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Chapter 20: Fall
(Hiccup)
We are but leaves on autumn trees.*
…
Hiccup opened his eyes in small increments, waking up from a pleasant night's sleep. He felt remarkably rested, and light, despite having the Night Fury's strong, scaly limbs tangled around him in what looked like a smothering but comfortable hug. He did not have the dragon's wings covering him, though, for it was still rather warm this time of year, and even more so inside Hiccup's abode, which had finally been completed after weeks of hard work and toil. This was actually his first night inside the wooden, tent-shaped structure, and the dragon's too, since Hiccup had made the hut big enough for Toothless to fit inside as well, as long as he was careful not to ram down the central pillar, or any of the rafters.
To celebrate the completion of his new home, Hiccup had toasted again with some mead from the skin Gobber had given him as one of many parting gifts. He had offered Toothless a taste too, but the dragon regarded the liquid like a poison, and had thus refused the offer.
For weeks, Hiccup had forgotten about his small supply of mead, but he was glad he had, as he was given the chance to realize that mead tasted quite alright when enjoyed on happier occasions such as this one. He had fallen asleep before getting particularly dizzy, which was why he had awoken this morning with no headache, contrary to what was said to happen to those who drank the acclaimed beverage. Perhaps he was immune to it. He didn't know. He had barely begun to discover its secrets.
Nonetheless, despite the lack of a headache, Hiccup did wake up with a very parched tongue, not to mention a dangerously full bladder. With composed urgency, he tried to wiggle his way out the Night Fury's embrace, but the sleeping dragon pulled him closer.
"Toothless?" Hiccup whispered gently. "Bud? Can I get up?"
Still half asleep, the dragon stirred, huffed, smacked his lips, then opened one eye. He closed it immediately, producing a sulky groan, his limbs still firm as tree-roots.
"Please. I really need to make water," Hiccup said a little louder, trying to free himself. He was neither strong, nor flexible enough.
Toothless shifted. He was surely awake now, but instead of letting him go, he tightened the hug like a child with a stuffed toy, purring lovingly.
"No- Toothless! Toothless! Don't squeeze me!"
At the sound of Hiccup's second or third yelp, the dragon desisted. Feigning disappointment, he lifted his paws, letting Hiccup finally hurry out of the wooden hut. Toothless laughed groggily behind him.
It was drizzling outside, though grey clouds concealed the morning sky, and promised heavier rain very soon. A bad storm was brewing in the distance.
After relieving himself behind a tree, Hiccup hurried back inside under the mounting downpour. He did not go back to sleep, unlike Toothless appeared to have. He did however drink thirstily from his waterskin, which he used to fill from a thin rocky brook that traversed the woods, whenever gathering rain in his pot was not enough.
His thirst satisfied, Hiccup woke Toothless again to help light the stone fireplace, which had been embedded in the long side of the rectangular room. The fireplace was roofed as well, so that no rain would fall in the hearth, but Hiccup still checked for leaks, while the dragon went back to sleep once more.
The layer of leaves and dirt coating the whole structure was doing a proper job at sealing the cracks between the slanted, wooden logs. The heavy sail-canvas curtaining the large entrance was also proving to be a decent shield for the early autumn winds. Hiccup smiled with satisfaction at his work, then sat upon a pelt on the packed-dirt floor, near the back of the single, cozy room, where all of his belongings were stored.
Finally! No more hiding in those cramped caves when it rains. And no more floors of sharp rock for this Viking's butt, Hiccup thought. He was actually planning to upgrade to a cleaner, wooden floor, but sawing regular flat planks was hard work, especially without help, or without the proper tools.
As Hiccup made himself comfortable, he picked up his journal, and shuffled through random pages, his thoughts wandering absently. He took a deep breath, held it, closed his eyes, then slowly let it out. He could smell the wet sand of the beach beyond the treeline, not twenty paces from their shelter. He took in the scents of the surrounding forest; moss and sap and dirt. He could hear the roiling sea nearby, its large, regular waves crackling, mixing foam and pebbles.
Maybe I will fall asleep again, he thought.
Despite the oncoming storm, there was a powerful sense of calm in the air. His small fire popped and hissed steadily, Toothless snored, and Hiccup felt he had finally regained the safety that came with having an actual home. After so many months wallowing in semi-panicked uncertainty, he felt somewhat whole again.
With his eyes still closed, he listened to the rain outside, and to the bubbling of thunder far away, as the sparks from Thor's hammer fell onto Midgard.
Could Thor be also a blacksmith like himself? He wondered. He does wield a hammer, doesn't he?
Then again, maybe not. Aside from one mute Berkian priestess, Hiccup had never met anyone who could either confirm or deny any assumptions regarding the gods. So, for all he knew, maybe the mightiest son of Odin was truly nearby, watching with approval over him as he rode his goat-pulled chariot, leading the last of the summer storms with Mjolnir raised in one hand.
Strangely, despite the heavy waves roaring in the distance, the wind was not particularly strong, though even if it had been, Hiccup was sure his hut would hold. He had built it sturdy enough. Besides, it was protected by the trees around it.
Hiccup had even asked Toothless to climb atop the hut's roof, once it was finished, to test its resistance. He'd had to check, because, come winter, if the snowstorms here were even half as harsh as they were on Berk, snow could pile up as high as a full-grown person, and Viking roofs had to hold such weights, sometimes for weeks on end.
Hiccup would keep making enhancements here and there of course. In fact, he felt his shelter was never going to be truly finished, since he knew he would never want to stop improving upon it. He thought that maybe, after the upcoming winter, he could even build an extension. Maybe a bigger chamber. Maybe even a small forge of his own, to finally bring life to his many projects, some of which he could even sell or trade when he went to Thargran, or perhaps to some other village as well.
Hiccup knew he could not risk visiting Thargran too often. People talked, and when trading ships stopped sailing for the winter, the villagers would certainly get suspicious seeing a foreign boy appear every so often. They might realize he did not live on their island. He had to visit different places. There had to be more villages to the south, but still before the Wicked Waters, of course. He would not risk going north, for obvious reasons, but he did not want to reach the so-called mainland either. Not that he knew how.
It was said that crossing the Wicked Waters was near impossible, and only the bravest and most capable of sailors could manage it. Trader Johan was supposedly one of them, much to Hiccup's skepticism.
Hiccup had no need to sail of course, for he could fly, but he saw no reason to visit such a foreign place. Rumor had it that they spoke a different language there, and that mountains in the mainland reached as high as the tallest clouds. It was also said that, somehow, the gods were different there.
Hiccup could hardly imagine what such a place was like, assuming it actually existed, since he knew only of Johan who claimed to have been there, and Johan had always liked to make up stories. He was famous for it, in fact. As far as most northern Vikings were concerned, the Wicked Waters could have very well been the end of the world, much like the Last Sea to the west, or the White Sea to the east.
In any case, Hiccup did not want a forge just for making trading goods. He was truly going to require one very soon, and if not an actual forge, at least a workplace of some sort, as Toothless' saddle, and especially his prosthetic tailfin, were both starting to show significant wear. Hiccup still had the spare tailfin, but it did not perform nearly as well, and, besides, it could not last forever, so a workplace was soon going to become a priority.
There was still so much to do. So much that could be done. Hiccup even considered getting some animals: sheep, chickens, pigs, perhaps even a yak or two, though transporting the heavy beast was going to pose a bit of a problem. Toothless could hardly carry a full-grown yak across such distances; an elk's weight had marked the dragon's limit.
Maybe I could build myself a boat. I will also need to feed the animals, and-
A clap of thunder made Toothless suddenly jump and wake. The storm was finally above them. The rain became louder too, and the wind increased its howling. Once he realized nothing was wrong, Toothless yawned, wafting his morning fish-breath towards Hiccup, who had gotten so used to it, he barely grimaced in return.
Just then, a red snout peeked inside the hut from between the canvas drapes at the entrance. It was Dreyri.
Hiccup got up to lift the stone-weights holding down the curtain, and raised the thick cloth just enough to let the Monstrous Nightmare put her neck inside. She tried to get in completely, but she could not fit with the Night Fury already taking up most of the space. She produced a cooing sound that was something between grateful and politely apologetic. Hiccup had heard it before, and knew its meaning.
"It's alright. Come in," Hiccup said gently. "Toothless doesn't mind moving over a bit. Does he?" He asked, looking at the Night Fury.
"Of course not," Toothless replied flatly, with an expression that spelled: 'you'll pay for this later.'
Dreyri managed to wedge herself tightly beside the black dragon, whilst her rump and tail remained outside, under the rain. It was not the rain she was fleeing from, however, Hiccup already knew, but the loud claps of thunder. The crimson-colored Nightmare was often scared by loud noises, among other things. It was strange for a dragon of her kind, which was why Hiccup would sometimes jokingly refer to her as 'the Shymare'.
Her meek demeanor brought out the motherly instinct in Hiccup, who could not deny her request for solace. He was actually flattered to see Dreyri trusting him so much, considering how timid she had been at first. Still, she was not the only dragon who had begun trusting him; there were five more outside (not to mention two eggs), which Hiccup had all but adopted, and they did not like to be left behind.
It was thus no surprise when, a few rumbles of thunder later, Sharpshot came to join them, entering the hut through the small opening above the hearth, afraid he was missing out. Soon afterwards, as the storm began to drift away, and as the rain slowly softened, Twitch and Bolt invaded Hiccup's abode too, whilst Frigga stayed by her eggs in the nest she and Bolt had built upon the rooftop.
Hiccup welcomed the three Terrors, as their size did not pose much of a problem. The same could not be said for the large Zippleback, Khnut, who was now trying to sneak his own (or her own) two heads inside the hut as well.
Toothless did not complain, but his annoyed expression said it all.
"Alright guys, we can't all fit in here," Hiccup announced when he got up, waving his arms. "Cooome on. Out. The weather's almost cleared up. Time to eat!"
As the Terrors, Nightmare, and Zippleback pouted or chirped their way out of the little house, Hiccup equipped Toothless with saddle and prosthetic, then got out himself. Bolt took Frigga's place by the small nest, so she could hunt in his stead and stretch her wings. The rest of them waited on the beach.
The rain had stopped, leaving the sand dark and heavy. Sunlight was still scarce, mere tendrils spread gold across the sea. The sight reminded Hiccup of Berk, though it was certainly colder this time of year in his birthplace.
The dragons were waiting for his signal, one of the few draconic sounds Hiccup had finally learnt to pronounce correctly. He mounted on the Night Fury, and finally howled:
"Wooaoùp!"
And the daily hunt began.
It was a slightly overcast noon, but the sun still peeked occasionally from behind the clouds, warming the sand. Apart from the Night Fury, the dragons of the island were sleeping off their midday meal, some sprawled by the sea, others in the shade of the forest.
Hiccup was sitting by the beach, his journal in one hand, resting his back on a boulder and making calculations, counting days on his fingers. It had been a long while since he'd been told the exact date, and he was trying to figure it out again.
"You know, bud, I think October has begun."
The idling dragon turned to face him. "Is that one of your human 'months'?"
"Yes, the tenth. You know what this means?"
Toothless shook his head.
"Two things, actually. First, it means that a whole year has already passed since we first met. I think it was a few weeks ago."
The dragon cocked his head to one side. "So?"
"So… well... humans like to celebrate some important events after every year. In fact, the second thing I meant to say is: I've just turned fourteen years old! I think my birthday is today. Unless it was yesterday… but then Thor's day was…" Hiccup trailed off.
"Birthday. You mean like hatching day?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"So you have lived for fourteen winters already."
Hiccup nodded eagerly, but when he noticed the Night Fury did not look particularly pleased, he added: "It's actually considered a happy occasion. Some people celebrate birthdays, especially if it's for someone important, like the chief. Other people might receive small gifts. Gobber used to give me a bit of his good scrap metal. Then he'd always bring some honey-bread, and we'd eat it together in the forge, after work."
Hiccup went on to recount what his typical birthday was like on Berk. He talked about how a few families (usually those who wanted to be on better terms with the chief) used to bring some of their extra produce, or a particularly plump rabbit or chicken, or maybe some carved wooden trinkets for the heir.
Stoick himself would present Hiccup with a new piece of clothing, boots, a belt, or breeches, sometimes so oversized that Hiccup would have to ask Helga, the woman who baked for the chief's household, to have them sewn into a smaller fit, without telling the chief. Hiccup had long stopped asking his father for smaller clothes. Reminding the man that his only son was smaller and scrawnier than all of his peers would always bring forth that dissatisfied grimace upon Stoick's face, the one expression Hiccup dreaded more than any other.
There were other things, however, that Hiccup did not mention about his birthdays, like how, despite the badly-masked lack of pride, his father would always extort a cheer for his son in the great hall, from all those who were feasting there that evening. Hiccup had always been forced to attend, and grudgingly thank the grudging toasts.
He tried to clear his head from those memories, preserving the good bits, which he still remembered with some fondness. People would even pay more attention to him on that day, he recalled, at least of the positive kind, except perhaps for that time when Snotlout and Tuffnut had thrown him into the stream, although Hiccup still believed it had been a well-meaning attempt at a boyish, Viking kind of friendship.
"It really wasn't so bad," he said. "I kind of liked my birthdays at home."
"But it's not your home now," Toothless pointed out with unexpected harshness. "This is your home," he nodded towards the treeline, behind which stood their new hut.
Through their strange mental connection, Hiccup could feel bitterness fanning from the dragon in waves. Did I say something to provoke him? He wondered.
"I know," he replied. "I was just telling you what used to happen on those days. It's not like I can forget all about it."
"You should."
The words hit Hiccup like a slap to the face. The joy he had mustered from recalling those memories vanished. He felt his stomach tighten. "Why? What did they even do to you? It's my life they ruined. Not yours. For that, I am responsible. If you want to blame somebody, blame me."
"So you think your life is ruined."
"You know what I mean," Hiccup corrected quickly. "Why are you blaming them so much?"
Toothless snorted. "I do not like them. Your father, your uncle, the other young-ones, and… even that stupid girl with yellow hair. All of them, except the one you call Gobber maybe. They wanted to make you kill me. They want you to…" he hesitated, "They are stupid and dangerous. You should just stay as far as possible, and forget about them."
"You are just saying that because you want me all to yourself," Hiccup rejoined in what he thought was a light-hearted, teasing tone. He did not want to argue with Toothless, so trying to make light of the situation seemed to be his only way out of that conversation. Alas, the dragon's words had struck a nerve, which was probably why he could feel anger bubbling inside of him, and could not control what he said next: "No, maybe you just need me. So long as I stay away from home, you can keep flying. Wasn't that your point? It's nice to be considered just a means to an end. Maybe I'm just a tool to you."
The following instants seemed to stretch in time, as Hiccup considered the words that had escaped his mouth. Hastily, he reached out with his hand, saying "I... I didn't mean that. I-" but the dragon withdrew his snout at the touch.
Toothless puffed smoke from his nostrils. He did not speak or growl. In fact, he cut off their mental connection. As he made to leave, his scaly features were etched with a deep scowl. He was either angry, or upset, or both. Hiccup could not tell which of the two emotions he hated seeing more on the Night Fury's face.
"I'm sorry," Hiccup repeated, but did not chase the dragon as he trudged his way into the woods, grumbling. He called his name twice, before desisting.
He knows I didn't mean to say that, right? He thought. He must know. Maybe it's better to just leave him be for a while.
It took the better part of the afternoon for Toothless to reappear on the beach. He still looked somewhat sullen, but he was trotting straight towards him, his teeth biting on a rectangular plank of wood, of those Hiccup had been painstakingly sawing and putting aside to upgrade the floor of his hut.
"Hey…" Hiccup greeted timidly. "I'm really sorry about-"
Toothless dropped the plank on the sand by Hiccup's feet. It was slightly wider than Hiccup's shoulders, and it had been charred black, with claw-marks trailing jagged lines on the surface, revealing the lighter wood underneath.
Although anxious to complete his apology, staring at the rectangular piece of wood, Hiccup instead asked: "What's this?"
"You are not just a 'means to an end'," Toothless replied softly but firmly, pushing the plank forward with his snout. "This is for you. I hope you have a good hatching day."
"Oh," Hiccup murmured, not merely surprised, but astonished. Picking up the sooty plank, he could only mutter: "I… You… You didn't have to."
"I cannot make you honey-bread, or find you clothes," the dragon continued, "but you said something about wooden stuff, and… this is all I could do."
"Thank you, bud. But I don't deserve a gift from you. Not after what I said," Hiccup confessed, though he was already hugging the blackened plank to his chest. "It wasn't fair, what I said."
Toothless ignored him. With a paw, he pulled the board from Hiccup's grasp, so he could lay it flat on the ground. "This is me," he explained, placing his paw near the squiggly claw-marks at the bottom, "and this is you, flying on my back." The dragon pointed at the claw-marks above. "This is the tail-fin you made me. And this is the moon."
Hiccup stared at the jagged marks, speechless. The shapes were hard to make out, but once he knew what to expect, he saw it too. When realization hit him, his mouth hung open.
Toothless did not wait for a comment. He turned the plank over, revealing two more scribbles on the other side. "Now this was harder," he said, gesturing at the first row. "These are the runes for your name. H, I, C, C, U, and P, like you taught me. And this," he gestured at the second row, "is my name. I hope I wrote it right. T, O, O-"
"-thless…!" Hiccup cut in, but could not go on. His voice caught in his throat. It took all of his will not to tear up and sniffle like a child. Hastily, he cleared his throat.
"'Hiccup and Toothless'. You actually made all this… for me?" he murmured, looking down at the plank, so he wouldn't have to meet the dragon's eyes. He did not want his happiness to overtake him, but his eyes were wet already. Lost for words, Hiccup jumped towards the dragon, clinging from his neck, arms and legs both.
"This is the best present I've ever received!"
"Are you sure?" The dragon squinted skeptically. "It's just a scratched piece of wood."
Once Hiccup felt he got a grip on his emotions, he lowered himself to the ground, and sat back down on the sand, picking up his present. "I mean it," he said, smiling. "No one's ever actually made something with my name on it."
"Oh… Then I'm glad you like it. It was not easy to make. It took lots of tries."
"Tries?" Hiccup asked. "Wait, how many boards did you use?"
Toothless looked thoughtful for a while. "I did not count. Maybe nine? I think this was the last one."
"You used ALL OF THEM?! Do you realize how long it took me to…?!" Hiccup stopped himself, and took a breath. "I guess I'll have to make new ones." He said more calmly, rubbing his forehead.
He then studied his present, and he was grinning once more. "At least your writing has improved. So, there's that."
Gurgling joyfully, Toothless flaunted pink gums and no teeth.
In what probably was a bout of euphoria, Hiccup came up with what he knew was a rather uncharacteristic idea for him. He decided to have a proper birthday celebration with all of his scaly family.
Thus, before sundown, and with great effort, Hiccup caught four rabbits, though he had been hoping for more. Hiccup had recently managed to learn how to make snares for catching them, and his traps were fairly effective. However, perhaps unsurprisingly, he had always found himself releasing the rabbits, and then catching some others using his bow and arrows. He knew it was not wise to reuse his limited arrows so often, but he could still not bring himself to sink his knife into a trapped, squirming animal. As cowardly as it was, killing at a distance already took a heavy toll on Hiccup's appetite after each hunt. And he did need to hunt.
Once night had fallen, Hiccup made a large bonfire on the beach with the half-charred floor-boards that Toothless had ruined. He then gathered the dragons, and shared a taste of rabbit with each of them.
Although baffled by the strange event, they all accepted the small slivers of meat gratefully. Somehow, they seemed to grasp the extra meaning behind the offer, despite their inability to fully comprehend the notion of a birthday, or Hiccup's explanation of it.
Of all the dragons, Sharpshot, Bolt, and Twitch seemed the most eager to celebrate. They kept flying around the bonfire, before being joined by everyone else to dance in the night's sky, even the timid Dreyri, and Frigga too, since Hiccup had convinced her to move the nest with her two eggs inside his own hut for protection.
Once on the ground again, as the bonfire popped and cracked with the last remnants of wood, Hiccup, who was finally resting his back on the Night Fury's belly for warmth, drank generous gulps of mead from Gobber's waterskin, finishing all of it. This time, he felt the lovely effects thrice as much as he ever had.
Uncaring of his graceless, adolescent voice, Hiccup probably sung that night, and maybe Khnut's two heads joined him too, belching even more grating noises into the air. Hiccup was not going to remember it clearly the next day, but he would always remember how grateful he felt for having those dragons as friends. Each and every one of them.
Warmly colored was the carpet dressing the forest's floor. The leaves had long started raining from the trees around the hut, and all across the island. Only the pines and redwoods remained heavy with needles; the cold winds of mid-November had drained the green from all the other trees, their foliage now crunching under Hiccup's boots.
Winter was close, and Hiccup was expecting the first snow to fall at any moment. Considering the Berkian climate, the snow was quite late, but this was the southern part of the Archipelago, and it was probably a good thing, since Hiccup did not feel completely organized for the season yet. He would constantly come up with new requirements. Sometimes the dried meat did not seem enough. Other times it was the flour.
This was why he decided to make one last trip to the village of Thargran, to purchase some extra supplies. Just to be safe, he thought. After all, I've still got some silver.
Hiccup had also another, unspoken reason why he wanted to make the trip. He was curious to see if Spitelout had searched for him on that island yet. If there was still no voice of a bounty for some scrawny northern heir, then Hiccup felt he would have been able to sleep more tranquil nights in the close future.
If they haven't looked for me here already, then they won't 'till after the ice melts.
Wearing two of his three tunics under his thick but sleeveless fur-jerkin, Hiccup took his coin pouch, and his bow and arrows, which he always brought along when he left his island. He then mounted on Toothless' back, and they left into the morning sky, but not before telling the other dragons to stay. They obeyed, of course. They had gotten quite used to the human and Night Fury occasionally leaving by themselves for supplies.
When Hiccup was in the village, he noticed there were still a couple of ships entering or leaving Thargran's busy docks. Fortunately, they all had southern crests; no sign of people chasing him (though he did not dare to ask around), and none of the ships carried Berkian sails. Besides, Hiccup knew that, at this time of the year, Berk's ships were already long moored. In fact, a good number of them had surely been lifted from the sea, and pulled onto the rough beaches east of the island, where they would be safer from the elements throughout the winter.
This being his last visit to a village for a while, Hiccup asked Toothless to wait longer in the forest, so he could make sure to buy everything he needed, or might have needed. Reluctantly, the dragon had accepted, but only after making his rider repeat the promise that this was going to be the last time.
Hiccup ended up making three trips back and forth, from village to forest, for he did not want the villagers to get suspicious seeing a ragged-clothed boy leaving for the woods with a sack of flour, and bundles of dried meat or stock-dried fish, all under his arms. Not that he could carry all that stuff at the same time anyway.
The sun had fallen halfway down from its noon height when Hiccup was finally ready to go home, his coin pouch now much lighter. Their flight was slower this time around; Toothless was encumbered by the new supplies, which were all inside bundle of cloth, for the wicker threads of Hiccup's only basket had begun to come apart of late, and the basket looked dangerously close to breaking.
So slow their flight was, and so time-consuming had Hiccup's careful purchases been, that when the two companions spotted their island on the horizon, the sky had already begun purpling into dusk, flat clouds reflecting the final colors of daylight on their lone mountain. Night came much earlier this time of year.
Just then, as they approached, trying to stay on course despite the southern wind, something caught Hiccup's eye. Perhaps it was the twilight playing tricks with him. Yet, high as he was, Hiccup could have sworn he saw tiny flickers of light coming from their beach.
"What's…? Is Dreyri setting herself on fire again? Can't you tell her that ravens are harmless? I mean… even if they peck her, she has scales."
"I don't think it's Dreyri," Toothless replied curtly, filling Hiccup's chest with unexpected worry, before picking up speed. "Something is wrong."
"What do you mean wrong?" Hiccup's hands were suddenly clammy. "What do you see?"
Toothless either could not, or would not reply.
"What is it? Toothless? What happened?"
When the Night Fury failed to respond a second time, fear ran through Hiccup's nerves like a chill. They lowered their altitude, approaching the beach much faster, until they were close enough for Hiccup to see as well, in spite of the darkness. Night had finally sneaked up on them.
There were thin wisps of smoke rising into the air. Some dragons- no, not just some dragons. Hiccup's eyes could finally make them out as they closed the distance. Dreyri, large and crimson-scaled. Khnut, green, with his two long necks and tails. And two, three… four small terrors. Sharpshot, Twitch, Bolt, and Frigga. They all lay sprawled across the sand, in the midst of burning debris.
With the full moon's help, Hiccup could finally tell: the dragons weren't sleeping.
"No, no, no, no… Toothless, faster!"
Their hasty landing was almost a fall. Hiccup jumped off the saddle before the cloud of dust and sand could settle. He ran towards the closest of the other dragons, his heart punching his chest from the inside.
"Dreyri!" He yelled, taking the Nightmare's head into his quivering arms, panting. Her scales were cold, though she still smelled of dragon-fire. Her jaw was clenched. Her eyes half-open, fixed, stuck... and lifeless.
That's when Hiccup saw the wounds. Axe wounds. Sword wounds. Viking wounds. They were all over her body, and above her throat, where Hiccup was now touching. He laid down the heavy head as gently as he could, and stared at his hands. Wet, dripping, and dark, the blood painting his palms looked almost silver under the moon's blessing. It was barely tepid.
Warm instead were the tears that began to flow on his cheeks. "No…" He whimpered breathlessly.
Hoping against all odds that the Nightmare was the only one who had died, Hiccup turned towards the Zippleback not ten paces away, but before he could get much closer, he stumbled to his knees, and covered his eyes to stop from seeing, smearing Dreyri's blood on his own face in the process.
"No…" He whimpered again. "No!" He crawled forward.
One of Khnut's heads lay severed, only two paces away from the neck, but still much too far. One wing was also broken, white bones sticking out, and the belly and chest were pierced in many places. The second head was lifeless too, exactly like the ones Hiccup was used to seeing after every raid on Berk. But also, so much different. It was this difference that now blurred Hiccup's thoughts and vision. His brain felt as if stuffed with wool to the point of bursting.
He caressed the Zippleback's remaining head for a few instants, hoping perhaps that he could feel some life under the scales. Closing his eyes, he got up, and trudged slowly, weakly, towards the terrors, who had all died near each other. Terrors always fought in groups.
There was no reason to check them from up close. Their small bodies were so maimed, so butchered, that they could not be alive anymore.
In the span of half a day, when at first light they were all roaring and growling and snorting lively puffs of smoke, now they lay dead. All of them, as if arranged along the beach to form the painting of a lost struggle. A lost battle. And a battle it had been.
Scattered on the sand were fallen scales, shimmering with the light of the moon and of the fires from the still-burning pieces of shields. The smell of smoke and blood lingered in the air in a way that was already familiar to Hiccup. He could not help but fall on his rear then, and cry into his cupped hands, rocking himself back and forth, whispering his dragon-friends' names. Moaning them.
Toothless approached him from behind, and, standing upright, he pressed a paw on his chest to pull him closer, into an awkward draconic embrace. Hiccup turned around and rammed his head on the dragon's hard belly, again and again, sobbing, groaning, until Toothless stepped back, releasing a worried coo.
Toothless was saying something. He was talking to him, but Hiccup could not hear his friend's inner voice. Their minds would not connect.
How long Hiccup stayed like that, kneeling on the bloody sand before the Night Fury, wiping tears on his sleeves, trying to reason what had happened, what his eyes had just seen, he did not know. When he finally got up and looked around again, the burning shields had turned to ashes. A cold full moon remained as the only source of light.
"They all fought," Hiccup said softly. "This wasn't an ambush. They all fought together for a reason. They could have fled. Why did they stay and fight?"
Without speaking, Toothless gestured with his head towards their shelter in the forest, just behind the treeline. When Hiccup understood, he covered his mouth. His teeth bit on his tongue. He could not speak the reason, only think it, and hope it was not true.
They tried to defend my home. Our home. All of them. Even Dreyri. Even Frigga! But if Frigga fought too, then her eggs…
That, Hiccup could not even think.
He got on his feet, and walked into the forest, despite the darkness. Many trees had shed their autumn foliage, allowing large beams of pale moonlight to pierce through and illuminate something Hiccup would have much rather never seen. When he did, he felt an abrupt wrenching inside, as if he'd lost his grip on something.
His small house, the shelter which had taken him two months to build, the only certainty he had of surviving the winter, the one project into which he had put more time and effort than anything else, now lay completely wrecked, razed, disfigured; piles of wooden logs scattered on the ground, except for the central pillar, which still stood, almost like a monument.
Rummaging under the broken pieces, Hiccup noticed his belongings were gone. His basket. His journal. Gobber's grooming kit. The crate. The spare tailfin. His winter supplies. His tools. Even the plank of charred wood Toothless had given him as a birthday present. Had he been raided?
Who raids a deserted island?
That's when Hiccup saw the eggs, or what remained of them. Looking away, he groaned through clenched teeth. They had been crushed. The little terrors inside, waiting to hatch into the world, would never be born. Hiccup could feel his stomach turn, and his chest wrench, if possible, even more.
Then, it occurred to him. The Vikings who had done this had somehow gone for his shelter first, breaking the dragon-eggs, and had fought the dragons later. Otherwise, Hiccup was sure Bolt and Frigga would have tried to fly away with their future offspring. None of the dragons would have fought at all, had Frigga's eggs not been crushed. Hiccup could not believe they would have laid down their lives just for the sake of his house. He had done nothing to earn such loyalty.
The thought offered him no consolation. It was not enough to rid himself of the guilt that weighed upon his stomach. They had all still fought like a family, a family he had been responsible for gathering.
Hiccup realized how little he knew about the common dragons' loyalty. He'd always been sure about Toothless, but Toothless was supposed to be the exception, the Night Fury would even say this of himself, though perhaps only in relation to other Night Furies. When it came to the other dragons, Hiccup was still so very blind.
It is my fault then. They died because of me.
It was too much. His hut was destroyed, his belongings gone, and, apart from Toothless, his dragon-friends lay dead. And it was his fault.
But only partly. Those truly responsible are no longer here.
Wiping tears and blood from his face, he hurried back to the beach, with Toothless warbling worriedly behind him. This time, Hiccup did not look away. He took in all of the horror that soiled his only home, his island, his shore, the sand of which he had enjoyed daily between his toes, and which was now soaked in blood. Hiccup allowed this sight to fuel the anger burning inside of him.
Who did this? He wondered with grim determination. Who are they?
Hiccup picked up a piece of broken spear. There were no signs on it that could lead him to the answer. No carvings. No symbols. If any other weapons had been broken, they had been recovered for the precious metal, and what remained of the painted shields had finally turned to ash.
Giving Toothless the piece of weapon to sniff, he asked: "Who did this, Toothless?"
If the Night Fury replied at all, Hiccup could not tell. His inner ear had closed itself shut. His mind was in shambles, but he did not wait. He studied the moonlit shore.
Where the sea began, there were three deep grooves in the sand, which had yet to be erased by the calm waves. Three lines meant three keels, which meant three longboats, and by the look of it, they were of average size, with a single sail each on a single mast.
If it had been Spitelout and his men, Hiccup thought, then why were they no longer here? No, Spitelout was not stupid, he would have ambushed them already. Besides, did Spitelout have three boats? The number of people that had chased Hiccup on Balheim did not seem to suggest so.
"So? Who was it? Was it Spitelout? If not Spitelout, who then?!"
The Night Fury's reply could not be heard.
Hiccup threw the piece broken spear into the sea, roaring. As he did so, he became aware of a strange new feeling. Though he had never felt it before, he recognized it immediately: the lust for someone's blood. He just didn't know whose yet.
It doesn't matter who they are. They must pay.
The more Hiccup though about it, the more he felt rage replace his grief, and he found the feeling to be surprisingly pleasant. The anger was almost soothing, like a numbing balm, and Hiccup allowed it to envelop him.
"Toothless, can you follow their scent?" The question came out as a demand.
Once again, there was no reply.
Is Toothless even trying?!
"Just nod if you can!" Hiccup shouted impatiently.
The dragon did so, but slowly. He then let out an uneasy croon of uncertainty.
Hiccup ignored the latter. "Then we are going after them," he said as he prepared to leave.
He picked up his bow and arrows. He removed the bundle of new supplies, which was still tied to the Night Fury's saddle. Finally, he mounted on the dragon, smearing bloodied sand on the stirrups with the stained soles of his boots.
Once ready, in a low, steely voice, Hiccup gave the curt command: "Go."
Toothless turned his head, apprehension plain on his face. He crooned a troubled sound again. The Night Fury was attempting to connect their minds, Hiccup could tell, but the part of Hiccup that allowed him to stay sane, after everything he'd seen, did not want to hear what Toothless had to say.
"I said GO!" Hiccup shouted, kicking the stirrup.
Much too hesitantly, Toothless flapped his dark, bat-like wings, and lifted off from the ground, his snout pointing north.
Hiccup did not consider the direction. His mind was in a white-hot haze. He was only intent on finding the murderers aboard those ships, and perhaps the one within himself. He had his bow, and he had a dragon. Nothing else mattered.
The full moon, indifferent, lit their way to the place of vengeance, into the darkest side of night.
* The single-line poem at the beginning is an attempted translation of one of my favorite pieces of Hermetic poetry, an Italian literary style of the first half of the twentieth century. Though it likely needs no explanation, the little piece of poetry is simply an allegory about the commonness of death. Credit goes to Giuseppe Ungaretti.
EXTRA NOTE (Birthday): In this AU, Hiccup's birthday is in autumn (specifically, in October), which is in conflict with book-canon, where he was actually born on the 29th of February.
I placed his birthday in autumn for two reasons. The first is that in the movie-canon we don't have a specific date for his birthday. The second reason is to give better consistency to the events taking place during and before this story. To all canon-fanatics: I apologize for yet another seemingly unnecessary divergence.
