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ACT II: OUTCAST
Chapter 09: The Price of Freedom
(Hiccup)
Much as it pained him to admit it, Hiccup knew, deep down, that he could be extremely careless at times, not to mention frivolous. He had been told so plenty of times, by plenty of people too. So, he also knew that, starting today, having been probably disowned, and most certainly exiled, he needed to become less of all those things. He needed to urgently learn how to fend for himself, how to survive.
The time of indulgences was over. And yet, despite the weight of this new, vital responsibility, Hiccup was not feeling the same grief and panic that had overwhelmed him the day before. They had not disappeared, but Hiccup had somehow managed to force those feelings aside, out of sheer urgency, storing them with a lock of faint determination, which he had found within himself, helped by the reassuring presence of his friend.
He still sighed at intervals, a sinking feeling in his chest reminding him of the gravity of the situation, but he also caught himself smiling a few times as he flew, thinking about his future, a future of boundless freedom and independence. In fact, he felt cautiously excited at the thought.
Hoping his pleasant excitement was bound to last, Hiccup told Toothless to land on the next island on their way south, Boar Head Island.
Boar Head was considerably larger than Thor Rock, but, like Thor Rock, it was also uninhabitable. There was no constant source of fresh water, and it was too small to accommodate any kind of wildlife, not to mention a whole village. Still, after their first cathartic flight as outcasts, Hiccup wanted to take a small break to gather his thoughts and review the contents of his basket, the only belongings he now possessed.
They landed on a sandy beach, an unusual thing among their islands, where harsh pebbles or grass-covered mud would often unceremoniously meet the sea, at least wherever rocky cliffs did not violently dive into the waves.
As soon as he stepped on the sand, Hiccup removed his boots on an almost involuntary whim. He would never waste a chance to enjoy the rare pleasure of feeling the small cool grains envelop his feet and caress his toes.
Hiccup began to empty the basket. He considered its contents, laying each object neatly side by side.
"So, Toothless, let's see what we've got here."
He let the empty basket roll away, but only after shaking it upside down, to make sure nothing was left inside.
The dragon ignored him and instead launched himself towards the open basket. His head couldn't fit through the opening, of course, no matter how many times he tried, but the Night Fury seemed to find the playful activity strangely endearing.
"Hey! Careful with that," Hiccup exclaimed. "Don't break it. We're still going to need it, bud."
The dragon whined unhappily, but he shortly found another activity with which to entertain himself. Fishing.
Hiccup went over his belongings thoughtfully. He found some of his own clothes. A pair of woolen breeches and two shirts, as well as two pairs of linen smallclothes. There was also a wool blanket rolled and tied with plenty of rope, a large fur pelt, two large pieces of cloth, a hunting knife, an axe for chopping wood, the boiled bandages, and his precious journal, his charcoal-point pencil tucked between two pages.
Amongst the objects Gobber had added, there was a brass pot for cooking, as well as two spoons and two wooden bowls. Hiccup slapped himself mentally for forgetting to consider such basic tools.
Then, Hiccup counted the remaining dried yak-meat, and two cured-bladder waterskins, one containing water, the other mead. That last one had probably been an oversight on Gobber's part, for Hiccup had never liked neither mead nor ale.
Finally, there was the tiny box with Goth's salve, most of which Hiccup had already used on Toothless' large paw. Gobber had also added two more of his own personal effects, which Hiccup would have never expected to receive, not to mention deserve.
The first was a small satchel, containing nine coins of silver. It might not have seemed like much, but silver was a most valuable gift, especially considering Gobber was not particularly rich. The blacksmith regularly chose to have his wares and repairs paid in food or materials; he rarely asked for the softer metals, regardless of their worth. Thus, with the exception of the chiefs, most of the coin in the Archipelago (particularly silver, and gold almost exclusively) belonged either to the few landowners, or the even fewer merchants.
The second gift Hiccup found in his basket, left him even more astonished. It was Gobber's precious grooming kit, which the man regularly used to care for his long, blonde, braided mustache. Berk's master blacksmith valued his mustache braids probably more than his two remaining limbs; those braids were his pride. Of course, it was not uncommon for Viking men to take particular care of their facial hair, but this was twice as true for Gobber.
As soon as Hiccup saw one of his mentor's most treasured belongings, Hiccup realized he already missed the man terribly. Gobber had truly been like a father to him, or maybe he had replaced the mother Hiccup had lost, and which he had desperately needed during his childhood.
Realizing how much he taken the man for granted, Hiccup failed to fend off a sudden wave of sorrow mixed with gratitude. A few droplets escaped his eyes, which he hastily dried with his sleeve before Toothless could see him crying again.
Hiccup finally unrolled the leather kit, revealing some of its contents: a razor, a pair of scissors, a brush, a bone comb, and a small mirror, which he picked up. Hiccup found his own image reflected, and, for an instant, he was surprised at what he saw. There was dirt and dried dragon-spit smeared unevenly over his face, a bloody scratch on his cheek he could not recall getting, and a smaller one on his forehead, and, finally, dried tears were drawing ominous lines under his eyes.
At first glance, he thought he looked somewhat scary, which, for a moment, gave him a refreshing sense of pride. Maybe if he also had a beard, he thought, he could have looked like a dangerous outcast, as was expected of those living in exile.
Unfortunately, Hiccup knew his body was depressingly wanting when it came to a man's growth. He expected it to be a very long time before he could sport or any kind of beard, if ever. In fact, Hiccup had always been behind when it came to growing up in general, especially in relation to his larger, taller, and more muscular peers. Much to Hiccup's chagrin, even Fishlegs' voice had long begun to break, and the stout boy was actually a few months younger than him.
"Aaarrrr!" Hiccup growled savagely at the mirror, attempting his most feral expression. He immediately felt ashamed for even trying. A cat could look scarier than that.
It was no use. He could still clearly see his true figure underneath the dirt and dried blood.
After washing his face with seawater, Hiccup inspected his reflection again. He saw pale, faintly freckled features, slightly gaunt except for his rather puffy cheeks, which hadn't yet lost their baby fat. He was nothing like a real outcast, not by a long shot, but at least he had a Night Fury by his side, he thought, who more than compensated for his lack of brawn.
Hiccup put his belongings back inside the basket, when Toothless finally returned. The dragon trotted close, and happily regurgitated an almost-whole cod on Hiccup's bare feet. A heartfelt gift.
"Oh! Ugh, uhmm… no thanks, bud. I… I'm full," Hiccup said, patting his stomach for emphasis, whilst trying to conceal his involuntary grimace of disgust with a smile, hoping Toothless would not notice.
"Maybe another time," he added for good measure.
The Night Fury slurped the cod back, sulking at the refusal. Hiccup tried to ignore it. He had already eaten raw fish dressed in dragon's stomach juices once, and he very much preferred not to savor that sort of delicacy again.
"Let's just reserve barfed fish for, say… special occasions. Eh, bud?" He proposed in a half-apologetic, half-sarcastic voice. He then approached the dragon, and began scratching him behind the biggest one of his six, long, pointy ears. Toothless leaned gladly into the affectionate hand, and all was immediately forgiven.
Hiccup kept indulging him for a while, enjoying the funny expressions his scaly friend produced between satisfied chirps and purrs. How could such a fearsome predator make such adorable noises?
"C'mon, bud." Hiccup finally said, patting the dragon's muscular side. "We must find a better place than this rock, don't we?"
After being prodded on the head by the dragon's moist snout, Hiccup fastened the basket on the saddle, scraped the sand and half-digested cod fluids off his feet, and wore back his boots. Then, they were off into the sky once more.
The sun had barely started its slow descent for the day, when Toothless spotted the next island. Hiccup already knew the place. He had visited it twice in his life, though he only remembered the second time.
Not two years had passed since he had been brought along by his father to attend the Thing, the most important meeting between the Viking chiefs of the Northern Alliance. Hiccup remembered hating the experience, especially the stares of pity towards himself, and of commiseration towards Stoick. There was finally undeniable proof that the highly esteemed Stoick the Vast had fathered a 'hiccup'; the rumors were true. Hiccup had never wanted to attend any other meetings after that, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, his father had never proposed again.
Still, as far as Hiccup had understood at the time, and from what he had learnt since, the Northern Alliance was mainly a non-aggression pact between the northern tribes of the Archipelago: Hairy Hooligans, Meatheads, Berserkers, Bog Burglars, Hysterics, and a few others. It also entailed a few trade deals, though Hiccup knew next to nothing about those. What he knew for certain was that the pact had been signed and upheld for generations, for the northern tribes had dragon raids to deal with; wasting their strength to raid each other would have benefited no one.
Among the northernmost tribes, however, there was still one who had not partaken in the alliance. Aside from the Outcasts, who were obviously excluded, only the Lava Louts had refused to sign any deals with the other tribes, for reasons that Hiccup had never fully understood.
"A bit higher, bud, or they might see us," Hiccup yelled against the strong winds as they approached Meathead Island. "Better not land too close to the village."
The dragon carefully circled the island, keeping his distance from the more populated area, whilst hiding in the occasional cloud. They finally landed in a small, grassy clearing against the feet of the main mountain, where a tiny, silent waterfall dribbled from the rocks, and then lost itself as a rivulet into the thick forest.
Meathead Island was smaller than Berk, but still rich in both resources and population. From where they had landed, Hiccup could still see the smoke of the village's hearths rise into the sky. It was a strangely comforting sight, even though he knew he should not get any closer.
Hiccup made camp, putting slightly more effort in it than he had on Thor Rock. He freed the dragon from the contraption and saddle, then laid his large pelt on the ground, and sat upon it, near the unlit fireplace; he wasn't cold enough yet.
Hiccup pulled out his journal and began to contemplate what to do next, holding his pencil between his upper lip and nose, humming thoughtfully as Toothless took a nap on the soft grass.
We can't stay on this island for too long, or we'll be discovered. We should probably leave in the morning.
Alas, Hiccup didn't know much about the geography of the southern Archipelago, and he didn't cherish the idea of being lost at sea, even on dragonback. He mulled over his options until the sun began to set. He was considering sneaking into the village after nightfall to find a map, a very rare item indeed, when his stomach began making hungry noises.
The dragon's sensible ears picked up on the sound, and he rose from his slumber, ready to provide for his rider. Toothless approached the basket again, reaching for the dried meat.
"Toothless, wait, you big, scaly, mother-hen… I'll find something else. Dried meat doesn't spoil, so let's keep it for emergencies. Maybe I'll search for something in the forest."
As soon as he spoke those words, Hiccup remembered one rather important detail. He had no hunting experience. He was never invited during hunts, mostly because the one time his father had told him to go, Hiccup had only managed to make his presence unwelcome during every moment of the apparently delicate activity. Hence, he had never been taught to hunt.
Fortunately, Toothless had enough hunting experience for the both of them, and he instantly darted off into the woods with a determined scowl.
"No wait, I didn't mean to…" Hiccup began, but the dragon was already off to hunt in his stead.
Hiccup had already cooked fish from his friend's catch, but he had never sent Toothless to hunt on his own. Of course, Hiccup didn't truly mind having a personal hunter, but he had just decided that he was going to have to learn how to fend for himself.
Maybe next time.
Hiccup had barely enough time to refill his waterskin from the fresh rivulet and take out his hunting knife, that Toothless was already back with three, remarkably plump, still faintly bleeding rabbits hanging from his teeth.
"Whoa, bud! That was fast! Is someone selling fresh game in the forest?"
The dragon ignored the joke, and dropped the rabbits at his feet, brandishing a goofy, gummy smile, with the addition of a few blood smudges from the kill. Hiccup found the combination of blood and smiling somewhat disturbing, though the sentiment was clear; this was another heartfelt gift.
"Thanks," Hiccup said lovingly. "But I can't eat three whole rabbits by myself. You take the other two. I can barely fit half in my stomach."
Toothless nudged all three of the rabbits towards him, forcing Hiccup to insist a few times. The dragon yielded only once he was sure that his rider was telling the truth about his appetite. He took two of the rabbits back, and finally lit the makeshift fireplace, before he began to enjoy his raw meal.
Hiccup, on the other hand, stood motionless by the fire, kneeling with his knife in one hand, and the now bloodless rabbit hanging from the other.
Something else had just occurred to him. He did not know how to skin or butcher a wild animal; he had never done it before. He had only seen others do it, and he had never paid much attention to what he had always considered a gruesome process.
With fish, Hiccup had plenty of experience. Fish was easier for some reason. Fish didn't have faces. Well... they did, but their eyes were in no way as expressive as the ones this dead rabbit suddenly appeared to have.
'Don't look into its eyes.' Hiccup recalled overhearing once; a piece of advice not meant for him, but that was apparently important, and now he understood why.
Too late.
He had begun feeling sorry for the little beast, but he could not refuse the gift anymore, not the way Toothless was looking at him. 'Why aren't you eating?' was most certainly what the expectant dragon was thinking.
"Oh, man…" Hiccup exhaled, laying the dead animal on the grass, belly up. "How am I supposed to eat you now?" He asked the rabbit, only to receive a disgruntled look from Toothless, of the same kind Hiccup had often received from the people back on Berk, just before the usual exclamation of: 'Are ya daft boy?'
"Yeah, yeah. I know… I'll do it," he told the dragon, who was still munching vigorously on his own catch, bones cracking between his teeth. Hiccup caressed the soft grey fur of the rabbit. It was still quite warm.
"Sorry, little fella."
Hiccup tightened his grip on the knife, and surprised himself when his hands seemed to already know what to do. He had probably seen the process a thousand times. He started from the rear legs, making circular cuts to the hide, and then along the thighs. He then removed the hide whole, 'like one would a sock', as he recalled someone saying; a piece of advice that, as with hunting or other daily matters, Hiccup had never been given himself.
He had to employ all of his arm-muscles to achieve his first goal, but, once the skin was gone, Hiccup felt a flicker of pride blossom within him. Yet the bad part was still to come, and, to make matters worse, his hands had begun to shake. His sudden queasiness and rushed heartbeat were not helping either. Even their small fire seemed to have grown much hotter.
Biting the inside of his cheek to fight the threat of gagging, Hiccup began gutting the rabbit, remembering not to puncture the creature's insides, or his meal would have become a mess. Alas, the close-up view of the white, translucent membranes of the flayed animal, holding its fragile organs together, made Hiccup gut-wrenchingly aware of how vulnerable his own inner anatomy was. He much preferred not to see what his hands were about to do, so he instinctively shut his eyes, before he began to cut the belly open.
'Don't close yer eyes when ya work, ya muttonhead! Ya'll hurt yourself!' That memory was definitely advice meant for him. They were Gobber's words.
Following his mentor's suggestion, Hiccup forced one eye open for as long as he needed to cut things apart. Finally, he ripped away the innards in one go, trying not to think about what his hand was touching, but shuddering nonetheless at the dreadful feeling of slimy entrails between his fingers.
"Ugh! That was gross…" he said out loud, adding: "no offense, little guy."
Hiccup finally observed his work with both eyes open. The result, he found pleasantly surprising. It was much like what he had seen the women cook in the great hall, or sometimes outside their households, when the summer sun warmed Berk's streets and backyards.
After the unease in his gut had fully settled, Hiccup felt a delightful sense of accomplishment.
"Now, that wasn't so hard, right bud?" He lied.
The Night Fury let out a few draconic snorts of derision. Hiccup ignored them. He was so proud of himself, that he felt almost elated. For a moment, it felt like he could have achieved anything in the world.
Hiccup washed his hands by the waterfall. He then prepared a sturdy stick with which to support the rabbit upon the fire. A long while passed, before the meat was properly cooked. Toothless had long consumed his own rabbits, and the sun had completely plunged into the sea, letting the light of the stars and moon announce the arrival of nightfall.
As his meal slowly turned from raw to cooked, Hiccup's mouth began pooling with saliva. Toothless studied him contentedly from across the fire as Hiccup took his first bite.
"Oh gods…" Hiccup muttered with a hot mouthful. "T's really goof!" He spoke out loud, though he had not meant to.
Then, for a moment, he was lost in thought. He had always known the meat he ate at home came from actual, living, breathing creatures, and yet, why did it feel like he had just found out? Though he could not fully explain the reason, he began feeling oddly grateful to the small animal he was eating.
Despite the pungent smell from the skinning and butchering lingering unpleasantly on his fingers, the succulent, unspiced, unsalted meat tasted sweet as honey inside his mouth. Could it be that his mind was playing tricks with him? It was as if the grisly, unfamiliar effort he had made to prepare the rabbit by himself had improved the taste tenfold.
How can something so gross and cruel produce something so tasty? Hiccup asked himself.
He almost felt like crying again, though this time he couldn't possibly fathom why. Something about that contradiction made him think he had been about to grasp some deeper truth about nature or life itself… but it had been merely a fleeting impression. Maybe he hadn't lived long enough to understand those kinds of intuitions. Or maybe he was just going crazy. Having too many heavily emotional moments in the past few days was probably beginning to take its toll.
Hiccup's hunger abated quickly, but he forced himself to eat as much as he could of the rabbit. It didn't feel right to discard any of that meat. Once his stomach could take no more, however, Hiccup cleaned the knife and washed his hands again, hoping the persistent smell would soon leave his fingers. Somehow, it was still strong and sharp around his fingernails. It smelled a bit like blood and death, and, well… life too.
Hiccup reached for the waterskin in his basket, and sat on his large pelt by the fire, laying his back on the rocks behind him. He drank greedily from the waterskin, only to realize, after the second gulp, that he had taken the wrong bladder. The one he was holding contained mead.
Hiccup made a grimace of distaste. He didn't like the taste of mead or ale, and he could never understand what made the strange, amber-colored liquid so precious in the eyes of all the other Vikings, especially grown-ups.
Why would Gobber give me mead when he knows perfectly well, I don't drink it?! Hiccup thought, slightly offended by the bitter flavor.
As soon as the thought passed his mind, however, he felt ungrateful towards his mentor's generosity, particularly after he considered everything the man had done for him in the past few days. Hiccup owed the man both his best friend's life, and likely his own too. So, just as he had with the rabbit, Hiccup gulped more of the bitter drink.
He only took a few more sips, but, soon enough, Hiccup began to feel some of the inebriating effects. His cheekbones began to tingle, his eyelids became heavier, and his lips felt like smiling. Most pleasingly, for the first time in days, Hiccup felt like he could truly let out a deep breath, and relax. With the Night Fury's reassuring presence by the warm, crackling fire, the wind caressing the treetops, the smell of pines and grass, and the stars cheering in the sky, it felt like something was finally right in the world.
Before long, Hiccup chose to reseal the bladder of mead, which, he decided, wasn't half bad after all. Even the taste had improved after a few more sips, but he wasn't yet familiar with his tolerance, and he did not want to get completely drunk, which proved to be a wise choice.
His senses only mildly fuzzy, Hiccup noticed Toothless's head rising from the grass, the dragon's slender ear-fins raised in attention.
"Wha' iss it, budd-? Oh, man…" Hiccup found his lips weren't responding as expected. The mead had made them feel somewhat heavy or swollen, though they weren't really so; he checked with his fingers.
Toothless got up and approached him apprehensively, sniffing him.
"Oh, 'ts nothin', don't ya worry. I just drank s'm mead… maybe a lil too much; 'ts quite goot, actually. Ya should try it s'metime." Hiccup made the offer with a large smile, lovingly patting the dragon's snout. What he had just suggested sounded funnier than it should have in his head. So much so, it made him giggle.
The drink's appeal, was quickly becoming clearer and clearer now that he'd overcome the taste-barrier. Gobber seemed suddenly wiser than he had given him credit for.
Toothless, however, was unconcerned by Hiccup's impaired speech, or even the smell on his breath. He kept turning around and sniffing the air instead.
There was something else.
When the dragon emitted a low growl towards the forest, Hiccup sprung up. He wobbled and stumbled, but the lovely effects of the mead were partially washed away and put aside by a sudden sense of alarm.
"Is sss...'meone out here?!"
The dragon looked back at him, and nodded.
Hiccup felt like slapping himself for his stupidity. "The fire!" He hissed.
Even from their distance, the Meatheads had most certainly spotted the smoke of their small camp, and had sent a scouting party to check for trespassers.
They are probably armed to the teeth!
Toothless, having understood his rider's call, pawed the makeshift fireplace, until it was finally dark. Unfortunately, not dark enough to hide. The moon was high and full, shining over their clearing like a huge, pale-white torch. Hiccup's chest flooded panic, which ignited sparks of energy through his limbs.
"We must go! Quick!" He said as he began gathering his belongings. he put everything hurriedly in the basket, then started to place the flying gear around Toothless. With the mead in his belly clouding his bearings, Hiccup had to force himself to concentrate so as not to fumble with the straps.
Once he was done tightening the basket on the dragon's saddle, even Hiccup's human ears could hear the rustling noises from the forest.
"Shhh!" A voice hissed, dangerously close.
"There!" A man shouted. "It's just a dra-"
Hiccup mounted just in time, before five Vikings emerged from behind the trees, sporting axes, swords, and round shields, their faces aghast. Some even lowered their weapons at the shocking sight.
"Toothless, go!" Hiccup yelled, and the Night Fury shot upwards, like no other dragon could.
Hiccup was yanked back by the abrupt acceleration, but he was quite used to his friend's maneuvers, so he managed to hold on, even without his flying vest. He then looked down, as the small clearing grew smaller with their height. He could still hear the men shout below him.
"Odin, Thor, Freyr, and Freya! Someone is riding that dragon!"
"Warn the village!"
"Don't lose it! It could land somewhere else on the island!"
"Gunnar! Get the chief!"
Finally, Toothless rose too high for Hiccup to make out what the Meathead men were saying. Then, the dragon smoothed his flight, and Hiccup sighed with relief, although he felt terribly disheartened. That's what it meant to be both an outcast and a friend of dragons in the Archipelago.
I need to get used to this, Hiccup told himself.
With that in mind, he realized they couldn't land anywhere else on the same island. It would have been too risky now that the Meatheads knew they were there. The moonlight was also not helping them conceal their flying trajectory, and the sky was free of clouds.
The only choice Hiccup had was to direct the dragon south, hoping they would soon find, with any luck, some uninhabited land where to rest. Hiccup knew of no good direction, though. To make matters worse, he was tired, and, despite the chilly air washing his face, he could still feel some of the lulling effects of Gobber's mead pulling his eyelids to close.
"Let's find some other land, bud," Hiccup said, his voice one of pure dejection.
Toothless wailed with concern.
"I'm fine." Hiccup yawned. "Just really tired." He did not expect the reply to be a sudden slap on his face by the dragon's ear-plate.
"Hey! What was that for?"
Toothless looked back questioningly, producing a playful warbling noise.
"Yeah. Much better. Thanks." Hiccup said sarcastically, not hiding his annoyance.
Yet the slap did work, for he no longer felt as sleepy. How long he was going to last, however, he did not know.
Their flight appeared endless in the night.
Hiccup could still not see any land along the black horizon, so he ended up trusting the dragon's exceptional eyesight for a while. He decided to look up to the stars. He did not know how to read them, of course, like most sailors had to, but at least he could pretend.
The night twinkled around him with crystalline clarity. Hiccup even tilted his head back, letting only sky in his field of view, marvelling in full at the immense dotted vault above. Although they were flying at a Night Fury's speed, the countless glowing stars seemed so incredibly still and far away.
'Close your eyes. What can you see?'
Hiccup recalled his mother's words, the ones she used every time she began one of her stories. The stories, Hiccup could not remember unfortunately, but he could still somewhat hear her tender voice.
'Nothing', he'd always respond, matter-of-factly.
'Rub them.' She'd say. 'Can you see the stars?'
"I see them now, mom," Hiccup whispered to the wind so only he could hear.
He refused to blink for a while, overwhelmed by the night's beauty.
Whether it was because of the strong winds parching his eyes, or the memory of his mother, or his mounting weariness, Hiccup couldn't tell, but soon the sting of tears started blurring the majestic vision. With a deep sigh, he lowered his gaze once more towards the dark sea below, resuming the search for land. What he saw then did nothing to increase his hopes.
A black haze all around, flashes of light, clouds as tall as the sky itself. The true summer storms had finally come.
"Aaah..." Hiccup moaned with exasperation. "The gods hate me."
AN (Map): I have finally published the World-map for this story! You can find the links on my profile page. As you may have read in my profile, the world for this fic is not shaped with the geography of the Earth, but it's an original, fictional world.
I've also decided to plot Hiccup's progress on a smaller version of the map, marking the distances in Leagues (1League = 5.5Km = 3.45Miles). I'll be updating it along the way, so you can keep track of his journey. If you are a new reader, and you don't like spoilers, then keep in mind that the smaller map might reveal Hiccup's position in future published chapters.
