I know, I know, it was a MEAN place to end a chapter. But I couldn't help it! I saw a golden cliffhanger and I couldn't pass it up! So because I took the cliffhanger, I decided I should update a little sooner to make up for it.

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Chapter 16: Back into the Abyss

Berk was quiet. The sun had long since dipped beneath the far ocean. The night lanterns were burning low and the sentries were on their rounds. The Berserker ships had vanished but they had left a hollowness in their place. Stoick sat by the hearth, stroking the fire absentmindedly, his dinner long since cold. Every day he watched the horizon. He kept his ear open for the sentry's horn. Whether it be Berserkers or Johan, or by Odin's miracle, Hiccup, he wanted to know.

The fire burped and bubbled and brought Stoick out of his stupor. A log collapsed, sending tiny flecks of fire into the air, waggling the flames. Despite the warmth of the fire the house had never felt so cold. What was he to do now?

A quick steady knock, accompanied by a melodic, but off-tune, hum, came to his front door. Stoick opened his mouth to grant permission but Gobber didn't wait for it. The door swung open and closed as he limped in with a basket tucked under his stumped arm.

"Evening, Stoick, just dropping by," Gobber hummed. He set the basket on the table and uncovered it. It was full of bread, with a side dish of fresh yak butter, whose smooth aroma filled the hearth. "Ingrid thought you might be hungry. The yak butter is delicious! You know, I had to try some, just to make sure it was good enough to bring up." He laughed, grabbing a roll and slopping some butter on it. He handed it to Stoick. "Oh, come on, it's good. And by the looks of it you haven't eaten."

"Nah, I haven't felt like it." Stoick mumbled as he took the bread. It was a little stale but not by much. Ingrid must have baked it that day. She was in a similar place that he was, but at least her child had a chance of returning.

"The Berserkers haven't been spotted, so there's good news." Gobber said.

"Hmm." Stoick said. He knew what he was doing. He was trying to add some normalcy back into his life. Ever since the battle he hadn't been the same. He didn't need anyone to tell him so. Losing someone wasn't easy. And no parent is ever prepared to lose their child. And after Valka…Hiccup was all he'd had.

Now what?

"Oh, and Hoark found his missing axe. I heard him apologizing to Ack about it." Gobber nodded, roll in his hand.

Stoick nodded.

Gobber sighed. He took a bite. "You know, we all miss him, Stoick. You don't have to mourn alone."

"I know, Gobber." Stoick said. "Viking are no strangers to mourning. But with Hiccup gone, the Haddock line is dead."

Gobber nodded darkly. But he quickly recovered, "I suppose it falls to Snotlout then."

"Odin help us." Stoick groaned at the thought. Snotlout wasn't a bad Viking, but he was no Hiccup. Hiccup thought before he acted, most of the time, where as Snotlout rarely did.

"Oh, it won't be that bad." Gobber said, but the uncertainty in his voice was obvious.

"I should have pressured him into marriage sooner. I should have pushed harder. Maybe…maybe we'd have an heir by now."

Gobber shifted in his seat and rolled the bread around in his hand.

Stoick scoffed, half humored, "Of all the traditions that Hiccup actually followed, he would pick marriage. He broke every other and it didn't bother him."

Gobber laughed nervously.

"What?" Stoick asked. He had heard that laugh too many times to let it slide by undetected. Gobber knew something.

Gobber twiddled, and sighed. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you. It's about Hiccup. He…well, uh, that…uh, that whole 'tradition' thing. That's not entirely true."

"What?" Stoick pressed.

Gobber stuttered, looking down at the roll in his hand, keeping his eyes away from Stoick.

"Out with it, Gobber."

"I, uh, may have…caught them…" Gobber inhaled, and added quickly, "Doing exactly the opposite of upholding the marriage before sex rule."

Stoick gaped at him, mouth leaning open, as what he had said sank in and his meaning became fully realized. The partly eaten roll was forgotten and tossed onto the table. "They what? They were?"

"Yeah." Gobber said. "But I don't think that Hiccup knew that I knew. I didn't barge in. I couldn't do that. I kept hinting to Hiccup that I knew that he and Astrid were…involved. But I didn't want to start a scandal, you know."

Stoick knew what a scandal would do. But right now, he would give a scandal's worth of pain for Hiccup's return, or maybe even a grandchild. He groaned. If he'd known that his son's relationship had evolved that far he would have pressed much harder for marriage. He would have forced it.

"But that doesn't matter now." Stoick mumbled.

"No, I suppose not. You know, she could marry Snotlout. She'd at least kept the village from burning down."

Stoick rubbed his face. He knew what Astrid would say to that. She'd rather saw her hand off that hold Snotlout's. But, with Hiccup gone, it would be a politically smart match. Astrid wouldn't be the same. Stoick knew. He understood. After Valka, many had expected him to remarry, even suggested it, but he couldn't see any other woman in his house. It was different for women, he knew, they were expected to marry and have children. Stoick wouldn't force Astrid into marriage, although he would have to suggest it.

"You know, Stoick, you aren't that old." Gobber said, with a wink. "I'm sure we can find a young woman willing to carry an heir, for the sake of the village."

Stoick, however, didn't find this humorous. "I'd rather give the village to the twins."

Gobber laughed and after a moment Stoick laughed with him. He could always count on Gobber to be there, to listen, to knock sense into him, to cheer him up, to remind him that even if the sky feels like it's falling, it's still up there.

"Thank you, Gobber." Stoick said.

"No problem, Chief." Gobber drained the last of his mead.

X

Astrid had followed the maidens back down the rocky cavern corridor. Her steps were uneven. She couldn't…she couldn't walk straight. Her legs weren't working properly. Everything…felt like liquid, cold, stiffening, jellifying. A terrible stiffening struck her chest, squeezing out what breath she had left.

"Astrid?"

Esol was at her elbow. Astrid had lost her breath and couldn't get it back. It burned. It consumed. The tunnel swirled. Someone grabbed at her arm as it collapsed in on her, going black.

Dreams, or glimpses, maybe even visions, flashed before her eyes, inside her head, somewhere. She saw doors. Clouds. Sunlight. Clouds being lit by sunlight, brighter than she'd ever seen. The sun, a golden glop of something in the sky. Faces. Undeterminable faces. Words came and went. The sun was gone. A fire.

"What happened?"

"I-I don't know. We were coming back and she-she collapsed."

"Give her to me. There, by the fire."

Blackness came and went. Lydia's dark face appeared and vanished.

"Oh, dear."

There was a warmth on her chest, in the place where Richard had struck her, that only helped momentarily. But within its presence the darkness swirled, steeping, and it swallowed her completely.

For a few long moments everything was dark. But the pain and the stiffness faded. She recognized the feeling of falling, being pulled, onto the other side. She expected to land, to feel the solidity under her feet, but it didn't come. She tried to look around but it was completely dark. Her own breath was muffled. She reached out. Only space met her hand.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes." Astrid said to the nothingness. Suddenly, like a dragon's fire breath burst, she felt hundreds of spirits. They were near, far, and everywhere in between.

"Thank you,"

She felt a hand grab hold of hers, a face appearing, like pictures in the dust, "You've done what we could not,"

"You've done wonderfully,"

"You've helped so many,"

"We can't ever repay you,"

The gratitude was pleasant, if a bit overwhelming, and followed her for a floating bit. One voice spoke a little bit above the rest, a little more familiar than the rest, deeper, masculine, steady, and sure.

"You have done a great thing that means a great deal to those who understand it. You have saved many. You have helped many more. Why, then, are you not happy?"

Astrid struggled, a choke clogging her throat, pushing her words into crocked sounds that flopped out of her mouth in the horrible sound of a sob. Suddenly, the ground solidified beneath her, sending her crashing down onto it, quite ungracefully. Tears poured from her eyes and she let it all fall to the dark floor. She cried until it seemed all the water was expelled from her body. She felt like a dried and stale piece of bread, crumbling into tiny pieces, falling apart.

When she was done and her eyes still wet, she sat back onto her heels, and saw the man-shaped creature standing on the far side, cloaked, dark, and faceless. The room had evolved from the darkness with walls made of a thousand bones, pale white fingers, skulls, and kneecaps, a mosaic of death's result.

"Are you finished?"

Astrid nodded. Probably not.

"You have done an incredible thing. Why not celebrate with the rest?" he asked. "I hear there is a glorious party happening right now, on the very island on which you sleep."

Astrid gulped down the odd air. "I helped, I saved, but I had to make a sacrifice I wasn't prepared for."

Death didn't say anything and she had the strangest inkling that he was looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

"I know." Death said quietly. "For your time, and effort, are you sure there is nothing that I can do for you?"

Astrid felt a tilt in the floor but it quietly returned. She was faced with a question for which she had an impossible answer, one that had already been asked, for her sake, and answered, for she was proof.

"Can I?" Astrid asked, a plead slipping through her words.

"Can you what? Ask? You can ask anything. However, I suppose it is the answer you are asking of." Death said. 'But, I can not tell you the answer to a question that you have not asked."

Astrid stared at the darkness where his face should have been, or was, Astrid didn't know, but that wasn't what she wanted to ask. She opened her mouth but her breath was gone and she couldn't form the words.

"Do you want to see him or not?" Death said, a little irritated, and shook his hooded head.

"Yes!" the word burst from her throat. Death cocked his head, seeming to indicate that this had not been a question, and Astrid cleared her throat, "Can I have him back? Please?"

Death moved, but no legs pushed his forward. He came to a stop in front of her and extended a skeletal hand. His cold bony finger gently ran the length of her cheekbone and with it a slight pain eased. She had no sooner felt it than the room vanished and replaced with the spacious darkness.

It was another eternity of floating aimlessly, a surge of pain rain through her chest every once in a while, tingling into her toes, her fingers, her tailbone. A lightness embodied her and before she could recognize it, she was pulled out of the darkness and into a warm and tea-scented air. She was staring into a blazing fire, contained in a well-used hearth with a teapot keeping warm in the flames, a smaller pot of what could be soup boiling in the heart.

She was stiff. But not in the same way that she had been. This was a sleep-stiffness and was remedied with movement. She arched her back and a quick series of pops sang in delight. How long had it been since she'd moved?

"You are awake," Lydia's smooth voice drifted over the hearth. Her soft footsteps padded over and she knelt down by her side. A soft hand rested on her forehead.

Astrid peered around. She was in Lydia's home, in front of the hearth, a pillow resting beneath her head, a blanket up to her shoulders. Lydia withdrew her hand and Astrid pushed herself into a sitting position.

"How long has it been?" Astrid asked. Her entire body felt tight and cramped, like she had slept on a pile of logs, and needed to be twisted and popped into correctness.

"About three weeks." Lydia said.

"What?" Astrid asked. She might have misheard her. "Three weeks?"

"Yes." Lydia nodded. "And I must say, I was worried that you wouldn't wake up."

"What happened to me?" Astrid asked, resting a hand against her chest. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"I would hope not." Lydia said. "Here, drink something. You're looking too skinny."

Astrid accepted the tea. The smell of the soup was watering her mouth. She was starving, absolutely famished.

"I am unsure of what happened to you. But when they brought you here you were far from well. It was some kind of spiritual poison that I've never seen before. I have heard about it but never had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing it." Lydia said. "I didn't know if you would make it. I am glad that you did, however. Here, dear, eat. It will help."

Lydia placed a warm bowl of steaming soup in front of her. She ate, a bit undignified, and it was flat but delicious.

"The poison's effects have ebbed off. Your body fought it off, I supposed. You are something else, dear." Lydia smiled. She tilted her brow down at her and added, "And I am curious as to what you did while you slept."

"Hm?" She mumbled through a full mouth.

Lydia smiled. "Someone was found wandering through the temple the night that you were brought to me. He was as confused as we all were. But, considering the unnatural things of late no one worried too much over it. He's been helping out with the town since, waiting for you to wake up."

He? He. He. Astrid paused, but had no sooner swallowed than realized exactly what she meant.

X

Cheesy? Totally. Necessary? Completely.