AN: So Chapter 3 is up, I just can't seem to stop writing.
I had fun with this chapter. With a little bit of angst, teasing and a lot of childishness, with a cute moment or two. I'm really happy how it turned out... though I feel like it's like a chapter and a half with the amount I wrote but *shrugs* I'm happy with it. Feel free to review, or not, and all constructive criticism is welcome despite my weak and feeble pride.
Warnings for this specific chapter... ? Dealing with mental illness, and childishness in a possibly annoying way :D
Anyway, Enjoy, or not, your choice :D
"words" – English
"words" – Icelandic
words – thoughts
Chapter 3. How to Become an Inventor
Wind snapped across my face in a sharp whistling howl, warning of the near arrival of devastating winter.
I watched as animal rearers prepared to take their herds indoors; chickens, sheep and yak, and as crop farmers made their way through fields harvesting whatever had managed to grow in these harsh, soon to be harsher, conditions.
I was kind of amazed anything survived this weather most of the time. As is, I was as close to the forge as Gobber permitted, which was a table by the door, but I took what I could get.
Right now, I was being taught how to make bindings for weapon handles, how to make bags, and especially the uses of scrap leather. I enjoyed my lessons with Gobber, even if he was a hands-on teacher. He tended to be very easy to understand and only occasionally (very often) snapped at me for my (seemingly to him) endless questions.
It's been a few weeks since I started as his apprentice, only being allowed to treat, mark up, and shape the leather into base forms, but it was rewarding, even doing the small stuff just to see and understand how it all becomes something… else. Kind of like with anything creative really, like drawing.
Drawing… Something I was doing more and more of, as my hands grew more dexterous with practice. I'd started applying it to inventing… well, the designing phases of inventing as I learnt more from Gobber and by watching him in breaks… and from random creative bursts of inspiration.
As it were, I had already designed some of the tools Hiccup had in the TV show… though the collapsible flaming sword part, and the hidden compound bow-shield seemed completely out of my reach for now.
The bola shooting device with sights, however, I had down for the most part, just not the actual shooting motion, same for the flight suit… that of which I am aware is currently useless (or too dangerous for use) until I meet Toothless.
Oh, I've even (jokingly) designed the peg leg from the second movie, with a pretty good idea of how to make the settings interchangeable.
"HICCUP!"
Freezing in place, I let out a tiny squeak and stared up at Gobber, with a little bit of fear, as he glared down at me.
"Uh-Uhh… Uhm," I stuttered, gulping as half of Gobber's eyebrow twitched.
"Ye hav'n' been listenin' at all!"
Flinching, I quickly held up my journal for him to see.
"H-Have too! I've even made notes," I argued weakly, pointing at the page. "See!"
I watched him as his eyes squinted, and flinched again as he smacked me upside the head.
"Notes, ye say?" he grumbled, taking my book with his good hand, turning it for me to see, and tapping the splayed open pages with his prosthetic. "Is 'at what ye call this?"
Rubbing the back of my head sheepishy, I winced seeing English covering the page.
"It's my secret language," I mumbled childishly. "Not my fault you can't read it."
"Oh, is 'at so?" he said haughtily. "Well, I guess ye don' wan' t' learn any of this 'en."
Pouting, I launched myself at Gobber's good arm and dangled from it. "But Uncle Gobbeeeeeer, you're the best craftsment hereeeee. How else am I supposed to learrnnnn anythingggg," I bellowed, swinging my legs and puffing out my cheeks.
No, I'm not embarrassed. I'm in a four year old body so I'll be as childish as I like, thank you very much.
Gobber heaved a tremendous sigh, shaking his head, and put me back where I had been sitting, dropping my journal beside me.
Towering over me, he poked me in the chest and announced very clearly, "Ye can stay. But! Ye better be on yer best be'aviour an' follow everythin' I do or say. Lest ye fall into the forge an' hafta explain yerself to the Chief."
Nodding gravely, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning up at him, knowing it wouldn't help my case.
Cuteness, as I'd learnt in my first life, almost always won in the end. Well… I liked to think that…
Though I did try extra hard not to drift off into thought after that as I was taught different ways to treat and mold leather, and the effects they created.
What can I say? I had always had trouble concentrating since the first time I was young. Not that I wasn't good at learning, just that I normally caught on too quick and started mentally applying uses for what I learnt without taking a breatj. Nor that I was much different when I was older… that particular hyperactive part of my mind just got worse through the years, though it did serve me well during university…
That is… once I taught myself how to slow during certain parts to make sure I was running with actual concepts and not the preconceived ones my mind conjured using only the bare bones of the teachings.
Making sure to take notes using Nordic runes this time, when Gobber didn't have me handling the leather myself, I tried familiarising myself with the work and the processes as much as I could, aware it will save me potential hassles in the future, and may actually save my life. As a poorly made dragon saddle could have me falling to my death.
On that note…
"Hey, Gobber?"
"Yes, Hiccup?" Gobber sighed, mirth coating his voice.
"Could you teach me how to make a saddle?" I asked, trying to be casual as I continued working on the leather bindings to an axe.
Now, this wasn't the first time I had asked Gobber this. The first had been the day after I had gotten Dad's permission to learn leather work from him, and at the time Gobber had just dismissed me saying I was too wet behind the ears to be making anything that big yet. At the time he hadn't really wondered why I wanted to make a saddle, probably thinking I just wanted to prove my worth.
Today, however, he didn't respond right away and seemed to think about my question. I had hoped this pause meant he was ready to let me try my hand at bigger stuff.
Suspicion creeped into his voice as he eyed me across the bench. "Why do ye want to make a saddle?"
Blinking down at the thin leather in my hands, I wondered how to respond, before just thinking, Fuck it, and smiling up at him.
"Because I'm going to become a dragon rider, and thus, need to understand how to make a saddle for my big scaly friend."
I watched as he squinted at me, some strange emotion I couldn't place coming over his face. Going back over my words and behaviour since reincarnating here, I decided what I'd said wasn't any different from any of it.
Quickly enough, the look passed and Gobber shook his head and he started laughing. Not small chuckles either, he had bent in half, smacking his knee as he bellowed out deep, rolling cackles that left him breathless.
I stood by, halting my work as I stared at him. I was not amused.
"Oh, haha, can ye even hear yerself?" he cried, merth tearing up his eyes. "Oh ya, the day yer able to befriend one of 'em vicious beasts, let alone pu' a saddly on 'em, is the day I willingly take a bath!" he wheezed, his amusement slowly dying down to light snickers.
"For a year."
"Hahhaha, wha'?"
"It'll be the day you willingly take a bath for a year," I quipped, feeling viciously determined.
"Oh ya, a year, hahah!"
"Is that a promise?" I ask, all seriousness, eyes at half-mast to show all my unamusement.
This, however, set off another set of chuckles from the meathead with attitude. "Oh, aye, on me word," he slurred, wiping tears from his eyes.
Reaching my hand forward over the bench, I made very serious eye contact with him. "Shake on it then."
"Ahahha, yer killing me, lad."
"Gobber," I said. "I'm serious."
He bent over even further in his laughter and shook my hand. "Hahhh ha! If ye insist 'en."
Puffing out an annoyed breath, I tried to stop my eyebrows from creasing. I really wanted to laugh with him, but also really wanted to not be undermined so much. I didn't care that I was a four-year-old. Deal's a deal, and I'll make him eat his words.
With the sun setting, and nightfall coming over the village, I lamented over one of the main things I missed from my previous life.
Coffee.
Gods, I'd even go for a tea right now. Something hot mostly made of boiling water, and just not warm yak milk.
Sighing, I slouched over a little bit more as I began to slow walk towards the Great Hall for dinner, kicking the ground as I did. I know that even if coffee did exist here (which I'll be searching for it on new islands in the future… or at least asking trader Johann next time he's here) I probably wouldn't be allowed to have it since I'm four… but I'd settle for hot chocolate too!
Pouting, I ruminated over possible substitutions to fill my old habit and I usually did on the way to the Great Hall… when I was struck by an idea.
"Gods, in the name of Frigg, why didn't I think of this sooner?!" I muttered in agitation as I turned away from the steps and ran to the healers hut, slowing once a third of the way up the stairs.
I forgot how ridiculous the way up here was. What if I had a medical emergency? Seriously.
Finally making it to the door, I knocked, earnestly hoping Gothi was still in, and not called out for something.
As the door creaked open I breathed a sigh of relief and waved awkwardly as Gothi looked down at me.
Now, how to phrase this… Since I'm sure there is no word for tea…
"Uh-Uhm, I …I'm really sorry to bother you but I was-" I froze as I was smacked on the head with her staff.
Blinking in shock, I had no idea what I'd done to offend her. Maybe I was bothering her? Or she wanted me to leave? Or-
I felt a tap on my shoulder as she gestured me inside.
Awkwardly I followed her into the hurt, feeling all the more nervous than before. Damn you impulsive behaviour. You always put me into these situations.
Gothi gestured for me to sit as she went over to a basket, presumably filled with medical supplies.
Perching on the edge of a thin wooden chair, I fidgeted in anxiety. "Uhm… I-I'm not sick," I squeaked, wide, unblinking eyes following her as she moved about.
Gothi frowned at me from where she was and went back to, what looked like, gathering small items and putting them in a pouch.
I really hated this language barrier. I couldn't read the symbols she would draw yet, and no matter how hard I'd try to each time Gobber or Dad took me up her for a check-up I just couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.
Noticing her in front of me, I tried to contain my flinch. She handed me a filled small pouch and began making gestures.
When she noticed me staring blankly, I felt really bad for not understanding her, and that guilt grew as she rolled her eyes at me.
The Elder wandered back over to the bench and pick up a small cooking pot, miming pouring water in it.
Finally catching on, I blinked, feeling like a muttonhead.
"Oh, you want me to make tea?" I asked, so surprised that it came out in English. Fumbling as my anxiety increased, I gestured wildly trying to make the words disappear as if I never said it. "I-I mean, y-you want me to b-boil the-" I stopped, looking down at the pouch and noticing herbs in it.
Gothi didn't wait for me to finish before nodding swiftly, and making a gesture for drinking motions.
Simply nodding at her, I continued watching.
She then picked up a cup, and held up one finger before putting it down and swirling her staff in a circle then pointing it up and holding up one finger again.
Staring at her in contemplation, I made a verbal guess. "One cup of boiled herbs per day?"
She nodded once again, making more gestures, running her fingers under her eyes and pointing at the bags under them before pointing at me, chilling me a little as I panicked.
"Uh-Uhm… Y-You want me to drink it 'cause I have bags under my eyes?" I asked, gulping when she continued to stare at me. "B-beccause I haven't been sleeping well?" I tried again, this time having her squint at me. Wracking my brains I had no idea what else she could mean and simply stared at her, social awkwardness eating me alive inside as I felt like I'd failed something important.
Gothi looked skywards for a moment before turning and pulling out a piece of cloth. On it was one of the designs commonly seen on the sails of Berk ships; a dragon screaming and breathing fire that had been run through with a sword.
Gulping, I watched as she pointed to it, to the bags under her eyes and then at me again… and slowly, it clicked. And when it did?
I wanted to run out of there and never return.
Breathing a little faster, I refused to hyperventilate but looked everywhere other than her as I tried to tell myself that her knowing was normal. Why else would a four-year-old look so tired? The thought barely kept my heart from beating out of my chest. But still I felt her eyes on me, waiting for a response.
Feeling sweat bead along my spine, I shivered and looked resolutely at the ground. "You want me to because of the nightmares…" I breathed barely above a whisper as I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. The silence was killing me, sending me into small snippits of memory of the last nightmare I'd had this week alone.
I'd been having them as soon as I realised I died.
Probably sounds stupid, but I'd been afraid of dying since I was eight years old in my past life (and how much it hurt to think that, past life) and now that I had, and particularly the way that I had made me feel sick and queasy all over… So I went into denial and pretended it away… That's when the nightmares started… so I slept sparingly and only when I was exhausted so that I would dream less and less.
I suppose I should be happy she gave me something for it.
If only it didn't remind of how alien a world I was now in.
Seeing her nod out of the corner of my eye, I stood shakily. "Thank you," I wheezed, taking in small, controlled breaths as I left her hut, barely seeing her bob her head in acknowledgement, and ran down the stairs as if hounds were right on my heels, only stopping once I'd made it back to my room, where I stashed the herbs under my thin pillow and chanted at myself to bring back the false sense of stability I had woven for myself.
"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. I am four years old. My mother is Valka. My father is Stoic. I am the son of the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe. I like inventing things. The only scary things here are the wildlife, and the gruff people living here," I paused after chating this over four times as a thought came to mind, showing it had worked again for now. "And Gobber on bath days," I added as an afterthought, smiling slightly, as the room came into focus.
Hearing a knock on the door, I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face, trying to feel more like the four-year-old I currently am.
Hopping down the stairs, I opened the door to see Gobber looking at me funny. Speak of the devil…
"Saw ye runnin', lad. Somethin' wrong?"
Breathing out slowly, I pulled a wide grin onto my face. "I remember a dream about a really really cool dragon and-"
Gobber waved his hand through the air, sighing, a smirk pulling at his face. "Ye and yer delusions," he huffed. "C'mon, off t' the Great Hall with ye. The Chief will worry ye been carried off otherwise."
Scowling playfully at Gobber, I bantered back as I followed him to the Hall.
Pulling my journal from my yak fur vest, I went to the list of skills I had written down that I wanted to learn, adding cooking to the list. See, I knew how to cook, in my past life, but cooking in a firepit, using anything other than marshmallows, is very different from cooking with a proper stove.
Thinking on that, I remembered that Gobber knows how to cook, and look over at him sitting across the table as him and Dad talked about preparations for devastating winter.
Swallowing down a decent mouthful of water, I cleared my throat, instantly getting the attention of the two adult figures mostly involved in my life.
"Is there something you need, Hiccup?" Dad asked, eyeing me warily. Something he seemed to do more often these days. I honestly wasn't sure whether it was due to concern for frail little me, or because…
I turned my eyes to him and then to Gobber, and smiled sweetly. "Can you teach me to cook? Please?"
Because I'd ask questions like this at least thrice weekly since being permitted to learn leather working.
Gobber shakes his head, snickering lightly and nudges Sto- Dad.
"At this rate, he'll learn ev'ry craft in the village b'fore he's ten!" he chuckled.
The Chief gave him a sidelong glance, before turning to me, looking at me properly.
"No."
"But-"
"No, Hiccup," Stoic the Vast stated with finality.
"Why?" I huffed, pouting as my eyebrows scrunched together.
He gave me a deadpan look that I refused to interpret, stubbornly staring back at him.
His will broke first as he sighed, "Because you're too small and will burn yourself."
Indignant, I retorted, "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
Pouting, I glare down at my half eaten fish, poking it as I thought.
"What about cobbling?" I asked, looking up defiantly, to Gobber's amusement.
"About what?"
I rolled my eyes. "Cobbling. The craft of making shoes." I wanted something warmer and more secure than the shoes I currently had, and knew exactly what I had in mind to make.
"I know what it is," he grumbled. "How do you even know what that is? And why do you want to learn that?"
I frowned at him. "I read it in a book, and I want to learn it…" I didn't want to say because I want warm boots with laces, so I paused trying to come up with a valid excuse. "'Cause I've read all the books on this island," I started with a small glare at Gobber, as I knew that wasn't true thanks to him, "and I can only learn so much leather work before your rules make it so I have to wait another year or two until I can learn blacksmithing to be able to progress further."
I watched as Stoic shook his head ruefully, irritation slowly working its way onto his forehead.
"No." At this I rolled my eyes, staring back as he glared at me. "You can't even lift a hammer, and you need to be able to in order to do that."
Turning my eyes back to the table I pondered over that one. I remember an anime movie where a guy makes shoes, and, although he used a hammer for some parts, it didn't look like heavy work.
Unsure either way, I was determined to get permission to learn, and thus get tools to do, at least two other things. Even if they were near-future promises, I was greedy to learn.
"What about-"
"Hiccup. Just stop."
"But-"
"No."
Growling under my breath, I clenched my teeth. "Fishing."
"What? No, you're-" Stoic stopped as Gobber butted in.
"Fishing! Tha's a great idea," he hummed, sending a wink my way, as I smiled slightly. Yay! Uncle Gobber's helping me! "It'd help him become more Viking-like, don't'cha think? Less…" he gestured vaguely at me. "Ye know?"
Wow. I almost feel offended.
Stoic the Vast, Chief of Berk, gives me that up and down look I've seen him do sometimes, mentally comparing me to the other four-year-olds he's seen. And once again I feel almost offended. 'Cause really? I'm four. Four-year-olds aren't supposed to be stocky, or strong, like how oddly Snotlout is.
"Maybe, you're right, Gobber," he laments. I give him a very dry look for that. "And I guess this could be a way to do some… father-son bonding."
At this point I'm stuck between offense, amusement, and a sense of victory. That is, until a small memory tugs at my mind, reminding me of how my previous paternal figure had taking me fishing.
Shrugging the thought away in annoyance, I take in a deep breath; very aware I was being very irritating.
"And-"
"What now, Hiccup?" Stoic snapped, his patience apparently worn thin.
"Well, it's just…"
"Spit it out, boy."
"I can't fish at home… and well Gobber won't let me take the leather work home with me… So…"
"Yes?" he bites out, exasperated.
"CanIlearnsewing?" I garble, anxiety eating my insides, hoping I wasn't going to be told, that's woman work, or anything equally misogynistic.
Both Stoic and Gobber stare at me blankly. I'm not sure if they were processing my words, or about to shut me down, so I just hurried on.
"For like, really bad weather days, or, uh, if I get sick," I paused with a tiny thought in the corner of my mind wondering if I'd just suggested being 'near death' since sickness here was likely to kill people, "or during devastating winter, which is soon, or-"
I stop as Stoic rubs his face with one hand and sighs at me.
"Fine," he quipped. "Is. That. All?"
Definitely annoyed, I thought, feeling a cheeky part of me relish in his sour mood.
"Well…"
The Chief lets a long-suffering sigh, an eyebrow lifting higher on his face as I can almost seeing a vein pulsing.
"What. Now. Hiccup?" he snarls.
I stand up on my chair, moving my plate out of my way.
And leap across the table, tackling him with all the strength in my little legs and arms to cuddle him, nuzzling my face into his beard. "Love you, Dad."
I feel his shoulders tense before his arms wrap around me tightly, a breath of strained air leaving his lungs in another sigh. "Love you too, son."
Opening my eyes that I hadn't realised had fallen shut, I notice Gobber with a soft smile, wiping a small tear from his eye. Only in the next moment to feel his arms come around us both, making me feel that much warmer and loved. It was a great feeling.
Shame Dad didn't agree, as I felt him shift and could almost feel the look he gave Gobber.
Gobber's arms quickly slid away, clearing his throat as he did so, and muttering some excuse about having left something at the forge, before ruffling my hair and leaving.