A/N Hi, sorry for not updating in so long, but, homework, you know...

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Chapter three

As our boat pulled up on the docks of Berk, I hissed under my breath to Percy and Annabeth as I watched Gobber the Belch hobble along the path to the docks, not even noticing us.

"You remember when I said you'd have to do exactly what told you or we were all going to die?"

"Yep." Percy muttered.

"This is one of those times. To these people, we are traveling story tellers, nothing more. Got it?"

Percy started muttering to himself a bit angrily, but Annabeth elbowed him and said "Yes, we've got it."

"Okay." I stood up and called out, "Ho! Gobber!"

Gobber stopped, looked up, saw us, and walked faster, calling out "Ho!" in return.

As he reached us, I hopped out of the boat onto the dock and bowed.

"Greetings, Gobber the Belch."

I heard Percy stifle a snort, but ignored it.

"We are three travelling story tellers who wish to stay here on Berk for a while in exchange for our wondrous stories. I am Songbird, and these two are Wisdom Speaker and Seafarer. Would I be correct in saying that it would be the Chief who makes the ultimate decision?"

Gobber bowed to me in return and said, "That he would be, Songbird. If you and yer companions would come with me I can take you to him and he can listen to yer request. Where did you say you were from?" He inquired casually, no doubt trying to see if we were some sort of dragon-snatching spies or something, eyeing our strange clothes.

"Oh, too far away to make sense to you, sir," I said, tying the boat to the dock while Percy and Annabeth got out.

"Right then," Gobber said, and escorted us up to the village, through the village, and up to the door of Stoick's house. Unless...I thought with a chill. Unless we were so far in the dragon timeline that Stoick was dead, and it was Hiccup's house...but Stoick answered the door, and so my question was answered.

"What is it so early in the morning, Gobber?" he asked sleepily. Then he saw us. His face went all business-like. "Oh."

He stomped down the stairs to the ground. I bowed, and, taking the cue, so did Percy and Annabeth. When we straightened up, I launched into the speech I'd been composing during the boat ride.

"Honorable Cheiftain of Berk, we are three travelling storytellers who wish for a month on dry land. We would gladly work for a place to stay and food, and we could also repay you with stories, every evening in your great hall. I must warn you that we are from very far away, and so our speech and mannerisms are most likely very different from yours. Please do not feel obligated to hide your dragons from us, as we feel no ill will towards such creatures, and no conviction to steal them. We have heard a great many things about your tribe and your island, so if it is not too forward, we would like to ask questions to clear up the difference between rumors and truth."

Stoick and Gobber stared, and I could tell that Percy and Annabeth were trying hard to keep disbelief off their faces. I was a modern girl, after all.

"Gladly," said Stoick after a short pause. "We have a space in the great hall reserved for traders and storytellers who might come by our island. There is one thing I want to know. Is one of you a bard?"

We all three stared at him.

"It's alright if you're not," he said. "It's just that one of our teenagers has been begging to become a bard, and I thought that perhaps a single lesson might either satisfy him or put him off."

"I suppose I might be what you call a bard," I said hesitantly. "Would the teenager in question be Fishlegs Ingerman?"

Stoick stared at me again. "How in Odin's name did you know that?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Rumors." I lowered my voice a bit. "The rumors also say that his singing voice is very loud."

"Well, the rumors got that right," Gobber chuckled.

I let a mischevious smile leak onto my face. "Where's this Night Fury I've heard so much about?" I asked innocently.

"And what exactly," Stoick asked with a dangerous tone, "have you heard?"

I shrugged.

"I've heard he's the last of his kind. I've heard your son named him Toothless. I've heard that he hates eels. I heard that he once ate an eel and got eel pox. I've heard that your son formed a BrotherBond with Toothless."

Stoick looked flabbergasted.

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It was evening.

We had met the dragon riders. Astrid and Annabeth had struck up a friendship (mostly because Snotlout wouldn't stop flirting with either of them, so they had both taken great pleasure in tying him to Stormfly's tail and taking her out for a spin). Ruffnut and Tuffnut wouldn't stop trying to steal Percy's sword (hey, it was shiny and kept disappearing, and they were the twins). Fishlegs had eagerly peppered me with all sorts of questions about singing, and I had answered them as best I could. Hiccup had been amazed at how much I knew about dragons already, and had offered me a ride on Toothless, and I had eagerly accepted, because TOOTHLESS IS SO FREAKING COOL AND ADORABLE! Hiccup wasn't too bad-looking either.

I had learned (and relayed to Percy and Annabeth) that Dagur was safely imprisoned, and had been but two months. So we were safe on that account. All too soon, dinner in the great hall came to an end. Most of the village had shown up, mostly because they knew storytellers were in town, yay! Even Mildew had shown up, muttering to himself off in the corner. I made a mental note to beat him up with words over the whole "zipple back feet and Monstrous Nightmare claw" thing.

I wandered up to the front of the hall and sat there. People started noticing me and hushing their friends and neighbors. Finally I had everyone's attention.

"Hello." I said with a smile. "I am Songbird, and I am here to tell you a story. Perhaps two. Would you like to choose which story I tell, or would you like me to choose?"

They all wanted to choose, especially the children. So I smiled and said, "Alright then. Would you like a funny story" -I grinned- "a sad story" -I made a sad face- "A animal story" -I bared my teeth- "or a war story?" -I made a ferocious face.

My faces entertained them, but the unanimous call was for a funny story. So I thought for a moment, and then began.

"Once upon a time, not really long ago, quite possibly last week, there was a Terrible Terror named Slip. Why was he named Slip, you ask? Because that's what he did. All the time, he slipped on the grass, he slipped on wood, he slipped on dirt, he even slipped on other dragons! As you can imagine, Slip spent most of his time falling on his face. And his tail. Every evening, his mother would inspect his feet, and every evening his feet would not be slippery in the least! His mother checked his feet every morning as well before he left the nest, and his feet weren't slippery then, either.

Well, Slip kept slipping, and his mother kept checking his feet, and she got so upset one day that she screeched, 'why!? why are my son's feet so slippery!?' And Slip looked right up into his mother's face, blew out a cloud of smoke, and said: 'daddy greases my feet every morning. he says it's good for my scales.'"

Both Vikings and dragons roared with laughter. Toothless came up to me and shoved me off the stool I was sitting on in appreciation. I quickly got back on it and rubbed him behind the ears and he purred, then curled up at my feet with a loud thump.

"Would you like another one?" I asked. The Vikings were very enthusiastic about that. So I decided on one I already knew.

"Alright, can you quiet down?" They obliged. "Since you chose the last one, I've chosen this one."

"What kind of a story is it?" Gustav Larsen called out. "A funny story, a sad story, a animal story, or a war story?"

"Well..." I thought a moment. "It's more of mix of adventure, sad, happy, and animal."

"Oh."

"May I begin?"

"Yes!"

I smiled.

"Once upon a time, a very long time ago indeed, there were four children sent away from home so they could wait out...dragon attacks. Their names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy..."

So I wove together the story of The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe, keeping it mostly in terms that the Vikings could understand, and explaining several creatures, such as Centaurs, Fauns, and the talking beasts, which greatly interested the Vikings.

When I was finished, the Vikings rose to their feet and..well, they did not applaud me, but they were Vikings, and so it was very loud nonetheless. I was very pleased with myself, and soon the Vikings all wandered away to their beds. Hiccup showed us the room off the great hall with five beds that he said had been set aside for when traders and storytellers came (which we already knew) and left us for the night.

I was very glad then that my trip to New York had been on its last day and I had packed everything I'd brought in my backpack...toothbrush, yeah!

Also, for some reason I couldn't fathom, my mother had decided to put a pack of spices in my front backpack pouch. Maybe she thought the food would be bad? I silently thanked her as I put the bag away. I was NOT going to eat nothing but mutton, fish and bad greens during my stay here. No way.

As we drifted off, I could've sworn I heard the call of a Night Fury from somewhere above. The sound comforted me, and I rolled over and fell asleep.