Chapter Two: Turbulent waters
Hiccup sat on one of the bench's in the house's main room, hunched over he watched the flames as they danced about in the fire pit. Occasionally the teen would make use of the nearby poker to knock the ash from the crumbling wood pile, or move some of the embers about. His mind was currently occupied by the single thought that ran through his mind over and over again.
It was concern for his father.
He hadn't seen his dad since he had been sent home from the storm preparations. And he didn't really expect to see him home anytime soon so long as that storm was out there. Not unlike with the Dragon raids, Stoick was always among the first to run into the thick of things. He was always there to take charge of any situation and see the village through any hardship which suited his lead by example style. To some such behavior may have appeared rather reckless or glory seeking. But in truth it was born from Stoick deep caring for the everyone in the village and his passionate desire to not see anyone getting hurt.
Hiccup understood this and knew that as chief of the tribe he was responsible for the village's well-being. Yet he still couldn't help but to worry for his father's safety at times. He knew Stoick could handle himself in a tough situation, after all there had yet to be a situation that Stoick wasn't able to reign in under his control.
But the teen knew that he was not as invincible as he seemed. As there comes a time when some things cannot be so easily overcome no matter how strong and determined a individual is. And such times as those can very easily spiral out of control and possibly end up with a dire outcome.
And currently Hiccup couldn't think of a circumstance that better fit that than this storm.
It was like no other the village had encountered before it, thus who knew just what to expect or just how bad it could get out there. This brought Hiccup's fears closer to the surface as new questions came with them. 'What if this time his father had bitten off more than he could chew? What if something happened to injure him or worse yet what if this time his father doesn't come home?'
Such a thought sent a cold tinge down Hiccup's spine. Shaking his head the Viking lad did his best to banish such thinking from his mind 'No way anything like that could happen…'
There echoed a sudden reverberating crack of thunder interrupting his thoughts. With that the eerie silence that lingered in the air since the start of the storm was done away with. The sudden disturbance had startled the teen so bad he nearly leapt from his seat.
Heart was thudding heavy in his chest, and his breathing was equally heavy. Sagging back in his seat Hiccup did his best to regain his composure after that scare. Lifting his gaze from the fire he looked towards the ceiling. That abrupt boom of thunder marked the first time he had heard that familiar rumble that often accompanied a storm. But why the sudden change, why hadn't he heard this before now when he had clearly seen the lightning streaking acrossed the sky earlier.
Again the deep rumbling roar of the thunder echoed the air resonating through the teen's core. But this time a new sound followed, it was the sound of the winds whipping about outside the house creating a haunting howling.
The mingling of the rumbling growl of the thunder and the crying howl of the winds gave new life to the storm. Indeed the turmoil made the storm seem more alive like some dreadfully nightmarish beast had come clamoring straight from the pits of Helheim itself.
After a long several minutes Hiccup turned his attention back to the dancing flames. Quite reminiscent of that fire, the concern and issues of before returned to spread acrossed his mind this time blazing brighter than ever.
-x-X-x-
Though only semi-conscious Adryk was keenly aware of the cold wet air and the fluttering noise his clothes were making. As the air rushed passed his ears creating a high pitched whistling and it was this noise that helped to rouse him. Though pain still had a tight grip on his body but the teen managed to open his eyes. Blinking several times his eyes lazily wandered about unable to make out anything of his surroundings.
Though dazed and confused it took but a scant few moments before he realized that he was clearly plummeting earthward.
With the direction the air was moving and the given way his clothing fluttered it was obvious he was on his back. This was a position that he had been warned against by the instructor as it was difficult to get out of it in freefall. Knowing this he knew he had to somehow reorient himself to face the ground once again. Otherwise he would be unable to deploy his parachute and would likely wind up falling to his death.
Yet there lied the challenge. Alongside the throbbing pain in his head was the fact that Adryk any movements to be complicated by the fact both his arms and legs were numb. It was similar to when a limb falls asleep. It didn't help that each time he tried to move resulted in a new surge of pain that made his want to stop.
Adryk did his best to ignore the pain as he tried to right himself against the wind. After several attempts he used the wind resistance to his advantage and managed to offset his weight rolling his body over. Now facing the proper direction he was free to make use of the parachute strapped to his back. Or atleast he would have been had it not been for another thing. In the process of drawing his hand up to grip the pull-tab a brilliant violet flash illuminated the sky around him.
It was then Adryk remembered where he was. He was in freefall through the storm which had overtaken the plane he had been on before somehow winding up out here. And now he had a new problem. If he were to deploy his parachute he would be now be nothing more than a floating target for any lightning to be attracted to.
And even if he wasn't struck by the lightning, the winds would surely throw him all over the place.
But there was an alternative. If he were to wait he could drop through the storm and then deploy the chute closer to the ground where the winds were less likely to affect him. However, this came with its own dangers. By deploying so late meant he was closer to the ground and thus had less time for the parachute to slow him. This could easily result in a very rough landing at best or grievous injuries and worse should it go horribly wrong.
So as it stood he was pretty much screwed with either decision.
Mentally the teen cursed the lousy choices that had been gifted to him. Feeling it was better to risk injury of a low altitude deployment than hang around and be thrashed by the winds and possibly zapped by a stray lightning bolt.
Though it seemed like an eternity since he started falling in actuality it had been but a few seconds. With the rain filled air rushing against his face Adryk was forced to squint lest he couldn't see at all. More flashes lit up the sky around him and still all he could see was the dark clouds all around him. But he knew somewhere under this thick blanket of clouds the ground was there and it was quickly rushing up to meet him.
Then the proverbial light went off in Adryk's mind as he recalled something, something rather important the instructor had told him. The AAD, or Automatic Activation Device, was still active. The small safety device would automatically deploy his pack's reserve chute the instant its sensors detected he had gone below its preset altitude.
"Shit" the teen groaned as he whipped his head down to his chest while his hands began the search. Groping around he blindly felt around for the illusive device no bigger than cigarette lighter. As luck would have it he managed to locate the gadget in a small pouch on the left side of the pack near the waist strap. Fidgeting with the pouch he was able to pull the thing from its home and in the process yanked it hard enough to dislodge the wires.
Without those wires it was effectively disabled and no way it could carry out its purpose.
The second his grip grew lax the wind ripped the plastic box from his hands to be lost in the storm. But now with no way to judge his altitude the teen was in a very precarious position, one that could prove fatal. And as if that wasn't enough to contend with Adryk could feel the return of the weariness. It clawed at him as if to attempt and drag him back to unconsciousness. As it threatened overtake him once more he called upon desperate measures. Placing the side of his right hand in his mouth the teen bit down and with it this new rush of pain the weariness was made to retreat.
A burst of radiance and he could see that he had finally made it below the cloud level and able to see the ground below. Figuring this was as good a time as any he reached up with his left hand and gripped the tab on his shoulder strap. Closing his eyes he said a quick and silent prayer before pulling the ripcord as hard as he could.
Immediately the tab and attached cable pulled the release pin from its seat. With the simple metal bar removed the overlapped holes the parachute was allowed to slip free from its pouch. Catching the wind it quickly unfurled to its full size and set about slowing the teen's descent. Although he tried to brace himself as he had been instructed Adryk was still unprepared for the sharp yank the parachute gave as it caught the air for the first time.
With parachute open he became a plaything of the winds. The gale force winds tossed him about like a leaf caught on the breeze, sending him this way and that. Many times he thought that his parachute would collapse, or be ripped from his harness as he fought to guide it and keep it under control. At one point a particular forceful blast of air jarred him ripping the control line from his hand. This caused the teen to go into an uncontrollable and rapid spin. As queasy as it made him Adryk was able to grasp the line and regain his control.
Keeping a watchful eye on his parachute Adryk happened a glance at the ground below.
For the first time he was able to make out some details and they were not matching up. Something was off, terribly off about what he was seeing. The ground was moving. For this was not the solid earth that the plane had been cruising over just minutes beforehand. No, somehow in a way beyond comprehension he found himself floating over an ocean in the middle of a raging maelstrom.
-x-X-x-
The howl of the winds had somehow grown in ferocity; no longer did it sound like the howls of wolf but now screamed like the wailing of a banshee. Under the onslaught of the violent tempest outside even the sturdy walls of the cabin had begun to flex. With each thunderous boom the rafters would creak and more dust would be dislodged from its resting place above. The storm outside was indeed living up to his father's predictions.
Standing Hiccup moved acrossed the room to gather another log for the fire. As if the warmth and illuminating glow of its light would hold the storm at bay and protect against the darkness it brought with it. But the Viking lad knew it would do nothing against the elements but just having around seemed to give some level of comfort. Hiccup knew that as a Viking he should be like his father and master his fear of the storm, yet he just couldn't help it.
'I can't let a storm scare me, I am a Viking,' that was the mantra he repeated over and over to himself. "I am a vi…" a sentence Hiccup didn't get to finish as a particularly powerful gust from the raging maelstrom flung the door wide open.
Giving a startled yelp Hiccup immediately turned to look at the flapping door. The winds burst into the room, the fire flickered and flames danced about threatening to go out entirely in the turbulence. Getting to his feet the lad strode to the door and grabbing the edge he attempted to force it shut. However, when the wind had thrown the door open it had apparently jammed it making it refuse to budge.
Moving behind the door he braced his right shoulder against the wood, planted his feet firmly and began to push.
It was rough going. The door was wedged pretty good and it didn't help to have the winds constantly pushing back, determined to keep it in place against his efforts. His feet slipped a few times but with a heave he managed to make some progress. Inch by inch the door moved closer and closer to the threshold and eventually it a mere foot from the frame.
Moving to the side Hiccup wedged his right foot against the bottom of the door like a doorstop. Then from his new angle he endeavored to pull the door the rest of the way. From here he could feel the rain soaking his clothing in the downpour and could barely see the goings on outside. He could make out the outline of the houses and specks of light flickering wildly in the stormy weather. It was by chance that Hiccup happened to cast his gaze skyward as a extraordinarily intense flash of lightning lit up the area clearly.
No sooner had he looked up as the flash occurred than he gawked in surprise.
There in the sky was an object little bigger than a speck. At first he believed it to be perhaps a dragon but that guess seemed off. It looked too small and the object was falling, not flying. Hiccup stared hard at the patch of sky but the gloom had swallowed it back up. Then a few shorter bursts of lightning arced acrossed the sky once again illuminating the heavens. The Viking teen searched in those brief moments, managing to locate it and watched as what appeared to be wings unfurled from above the thing.
But all too quickly for his liking it grew dark again.
The curious sight had left Hiccup in a quandary, his mind having forgotten about his current situation as a flurry of questions flooded him. A sudden blast of air served to remind him. The gust hammered the door causing it to push back giving his knee a good smack. Recoiling Hiccup felt the sting in his leg as the wind threatened to bowl him over should he let the door open any further.
Returning to his task Hiccup applied more pressure forcing the door tight against the frame. Reaching over he dropped a wedge shaped wood block on the ground behind the door before he used his foot to slide the wedge in place under the door. No longer feeling the wind fighting him he took a moment, placing his hands on the back of the door he braced himself his arms sagging a bit from exertion. Straightening up Hiccup hobbled backwards still feeling the sting in his right knee; no doubt it would be a bruise by tomorrow.
He moved until he felt the edge of the bench press firmly against the back of his legs. Dropping down onto the bench he continued to stare at the now closed door. His mind was quickly trying to work out just what he had witnessed.
"What was that? It couldn't be a dragon, could it? There's no way a dragon would risk being caught in a storm like this" the teen mused to himself. "No, couldn't be a dragon it was too small. But then again it was far away. But the wings didn't look right." Again and again he would propose a new theory only to find some kind of fault with it until he was left with but one remaining question. "If that wasn't a dragon out there. Then just what was it?"
-x-X-x-
Deployed so late the parachute was near helpless to slow Adryk's descent and he knew it. His speed was far too great to even have a hope for a measurably soft landing. Staring down passed his feet he could do nothing but watch the violently churning waters rushing up to greet him.
Though he was braced the initial impact was still bone jarringly painful akin to hitting solid rock.
Slamming into the water the force was enough to render the teen unconscious for the second time that day. Adryk bobbed around on the surface for a moment or two like a cork before silently slipping below the turmoil of the surface. Here was a far cry from what lie above, the deeper waters were calm and moved in an almost tranquil pace. With the water supporting his body, Adryk hung suspended in the depths as if nearly weightless. But it wasn't enough to stop him continuing to slowly sink ever deeper into the watery depths.
It seemed that perhaps this was to be his fate, to be just another nameless soul that had been claimed by the sea.
Something snapped inside the teen jarring him awake. His eyes opened only to feel the slight sting when met with the salty seawater. A gush of bubbles escaped from his mouth as the teen whipped his head upwards. Kicking his legs and thrashing his arms in wide arcs Adryk made for the surface and the oxygen rich layer above as fast as he could possibly go. The teen had no idea just how deep he had sunk but only that it was far enough to make it seem that he never got any closer to the surface.
Adryk's air starved lungs started to burn and his edges of his vision grew hazy forcing it to narrow.
As the seconds ticked by his field of view grew darker and his chest felt it was about to burst at any moment. Suddenly he felt the wind brush against the wet flesh of his hand as it broke the surface. His kicking turned into a frenzy emboldened by this new sensation.
Bursting through into the air the teen gasped. Bobbing about in the rolling ocean Adryk coughed and sputtered trying to keep the salt water from his mouth as he breathed in. Finally the burning in his lungs ceased with each lungful of air that entered his body and he relished each and every one of them.
With one problem out of the way the next one quickly raised its ugly head.
Doing his best to stay above the water he spun about trying to see over the crests of the waves. Only thought ran through his mind at this point; to find someplace safe and quickly.
A flash of lightning in the distance silhouetted what appeared to be a mountainous island. As mysterious and unknown as the island was it was certainly better to take a chance there than to try his luck with the ocean. All he could do was hope that the island's coast was not rocky cliffs as he prepared to swim for it.
Adryk only managed about a dozen feet or so when something yanked him backwards. Recoiling like a dog reaching the end of its chain he looked back, the cause became easily apparent. The parachute was still attached to the backpack he wore. Now instead of filling with air the silk cloth was filled with water and acted like a giant dragline. However there was another more immediate danger than being pulled about the currents because of the parachute. And that was the danger of becoming entangled by the many lines that still hung slack in the water that attached the parachute to the backpack.
Relying on the kicking of his legs to keep him aloft he busied his hands with the backpack's harness. Unfortunately while he was able to stay above the surface, barely, his parachute captured by the currents began to drag it and the human passenger away from the island and out to sea.
At last Adryk's hands found what he had been searching for, a pair of small nylon loops that hung from the bottom of the shoulder straps.
Slipping his thumbs through the loops Adryk yanked the pair downwards. The loops and the thin cable they attached to pulled the set of metal tabs which held an interlocked set of 3-rings. These 3-rings made up the safety release system, without the tabs in place the rings simply slid one through the other cascading freely letting the straps on the backpack separate from the pack. No longer connected to the rucksack the teen was free to move away while the oceanic currents carried the parachute and pack out to sea.
Though he may not have to worry about tangling in the cords and drowning, he was not out of danger yet. The sea was still a rolling cauldron of turmoil and only the island in the distance could offer safe haven.
Adopting a form he had many professional swimmers use Adryk set out for shore. His arms moved in alternating sweeps through the water while he kicked his feet to keep up the momentum. In the rough seas making any sort of headway was slow going and seemed almost impossible. Yet with each flash of lightning that lit the sky the island's promise appeared just that little closer and that was all that was need to spur him onward.
The hardest part was timing his breathing with that of his movements and that of the waves as they washed over him. As was to be expected from battling the stormy currents and the waves it wasn't long before Adryk's muscles began to ache and tire from the exertion. But still the teen pushed his limits knowing that it wouldn't be long before that ache would transform into a strong burning.
Gradually his pace began to slow as his stamina reached its peak and he'd burned through his energy reserves.
When a cramp attacked his right leg Adryk floundered as the muscle of his leg underwent painful spasms. The current now had the upper hand and jostling waves were quick to take away an progress Adryk had made. With his right hand he tried to massage the cramp from his thigh while attempting to swim sideways with his left arm and leg. But each stroke and kick took more energy than the last and his limbs grew heavier. It increased to the point where Adryk was barely able to lift them as his body protested and demanded respite.
When the pain in his head returned, the break in concentration caused him to mistime his breathing.
The wave washed over the teen forcing his head underwater making Adryk gasp and cough up the seawater that he had inadvertently swallowed. As he bobbed in the open waters staring through the gloom at the land mass a feeling of despair overtook him. It was hopeless to try go on, he was out of energy and his aching body was proof of that. All he was doing now was just forestalling the inevitable.
Before him a great wall of water rose higher and higher as it came closer and closer. And with a final gulp of air Adryk ceased resisting and let the waters take him.
As the water crashed over him, he was forced under the surface once more. Drifting downwards he turned his gaze upwards watching from this translucent world as the frothy waves passed by. The familiar feelings returned as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. As the teen seemed about to pass out for the last the time a new and bizarre sensation was beginning to brew in the pit of his stomach. A strange warmth welled up within Adryk's abdomen to radiate outwards and with it came an unusual sense of calm and contentment. The teen just accepted that perhaps this feeling of peace was just part of what was coming.
"Come now, don't tell me you're calling it quits this easily" a small voice whispered to Adryk.
'Wha-Who are you?'
The mysterious voice ignored the lad's response and continued. "So far you're proving to be less than entertaining. I guess I'll have to do something about it this time but only this one time. Things are only just beginning and there is much to do."
Before Adryk could think of a reply a new sensation stirred within him. With it came a renewed sense of strength that surged throughout his body seemingly invading every fiber of his being. The fatigue and pain that plagued him were simply washed away.
Returning to the world around him Adryk kicked his way back to the surface. Taking another breath the teen looked about before setting his sights back upon the distant shore. His eyes narrowed, filled with a new found determination to make it there. Not knowing just how long this break would last Adryk set off, his arms moving wide sweeping arcs and his legs kicking furiously. The ocean had lost none of its fight as waves pounded down on him. But still he kept going managing to take a quick breath between each new wave.
The island loomed ever larger with each glance and the thought of being able to set foot on dry land again urged him ever onwards. Gritting his teeth Adryk continued until last he felt the loose silt of the shallows pass between his fingers. With a surface beneath his boot clad feet, even semi-solid as the sand was, the lad strode determinedly through the waters before staggering out of the water and onto the beach.
Collapsing to his hands and knees he began to crawl away from the surf zone. Clawing at the sand like an animal he made his way up the beach trying to get as far from the ocean as possible. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and his heart thumped heavily in the confines of his chest. Each movement became a harder struggle especially when he was forced to crawl over the myriad of debris that had been washed up on the sand. He moved until Adryk felt it, like hitting a wall. He could go no further and was utterly spent.
Taking a moment he cast a glance over his shoulder.
In the darkness he could just make out the edge of where the waves crashed on the beach some twenty feet back. Twenty feet or twenty miles it didn't matter to Adryk, with how he felt now it may as well have been a thousand miles.
No sooner had he turned back before his arms were no longer able to support him. As they gave out he fell flat out on his stomach in the sand giving a tremendous sigh. Mustering the very last of his stamina Adryk heaved barely managing to roll himself over. As he lay there staring up at the raging sky above the results of his ordeal now moved in to make themselves known. It seemed like just about every part of him was in some degree of pain.
Exhaustion crept over the teen like a blanket. His eyelids began to feel heavy and drift closer together; his breathing slowed becoming shallower as he fought to stay awake. But this was not a battle he could win. The last sight Adryk saw before he was claimed by the realm of sleep was the clouds beginning to break up and the stars shining through the clear sky.
-x-X-x-
Stoick turned his gaze towards the sky. The storm had been raging like no other he had seen before.
The thunder's powerful booms were almost deafening to the Viking's ears and the flashes of lightning were extraordinarily bright. The strange purple lightning ripped through the air illuminating the pitch black sky, some stray bolts had already struck the village several times. One bolt had narrowly avoided striking the chieftain and instead had struck one of the village lamps, causing the thick trunk to explode in a shower of splinters while the upper portion fell away nearly crushing several others.
The rain fell in torrential sheets from the sky with force enough to leave a rather painful sting on impact with bare skin. The winds raged and howled with the ferocity of wild beasts, picking up anything they could and hurling it about. The powerful gusts had been enough to tear one of the large catapults easily from its mountings to topple over before being dashed onto the rocks below. The many pieces quickly became a new source of ammunition for the storm in the growing number of things being thrown about like a child having a temper tantrum.
Many times Stoick had been forced to shield his face from the pelting of small objects. But what more even he had to struggle against the winds, having to rely on his grip on a nearby object to remain standing lest he be borne off his feet.
All around him, Stoick could hear the creaking and groaning of the wooden houses as they were subjected to the storm's wrath. Every home had already been battered by the flying debris and he always had his eye out for any sign of something worse happening to the homes.
And it was that fear that was soon realized. In a brief moment of calm a new and terrible sound attracted his attention. It was the sound of wood groaning before cracking as it gave way all together. Looking up he watched as one of the carved ornamental poles snapped and crashed down on a nearby house. Under the assault the home's roof collapsed taking two of the walls with it.
"You men come with me!" the Viking chief shouted to four nearby villagers as he broke out in a full run.
The small band raced through the streets in the direction of the horrible accident. Upon arrival the group was greeted with the sight of destruction. A mangled pile of broken wood and fallen stones now sat where a house once stood. For a second Stoick and the others remained motionless surveying the extent of the damage. Then their ears were met with a weak noise, it was the sound of a child crying from somewhere in the rubble.
"Help" a muffled voice cried out from somewhere beneath the debris.
Without a moment's hesitation the five men rushed into the pile of broken wood searching for the voice that continued to call out to them. Piece by piece the men picked through the mess hoisting logs out of their way and tossing stones to the side. It was when the voice cried out once again that Stoick swung around honing in on the location. A large pile of debris was strewn against one of the free standing walls.
"Can you hear me?" Stoick called out placing his hand one of the fallen beams.
Though it was difficult over the background noise he was able to hear the faint reply, "Yes I hear you. Please help us."
Gripping the beam's girth Stoick attempted to lift the hefty timber by himself. When the stubborn log refused to budge he was forced to let go, turning around he waved his hand "Over here." Their leader's words immediately drew the other men to his side. Placing themselves about the heavy beam the group gave a simultaneous nod before lifting the log. They grunted with the effort but their combined strength was more than enough to move the log. Carefully they maneuvered to remove the beam and carry it a short distance before tossing it aside in the debris listening to the weighty thud.
Turning the men returned to their previous spot. The remaining pieces were far easier to deal with as Stoick pulled it away to pass if off to the next man in the line.
The last remnant was a large piece of roof thatching that had been pinned by a smaller beam. Without out of the way the source of the voice was uncovered. Huddled together in a small pocket that had formed in the debris was a heavily pregnant woman and a young girl. The child clung tightly to her mother, while her mother held her equally as close with one arm and with the other wrapped protectively over her swollen stomach.
"It's alright now" Stoick spoke in a soft tone "Take my hand."
The pair looked up at him with a tear streaked face the woman was quick to take hold of Stoick's offered hand. As he helped to stand the other men moved in to help escort her through the rubble of her former home.
After making it through and back to the stone pathway, Stoick turned to one of the rescuees. "Are you alright lass?"
The woman stood, her arms supporting her daughter's weight and trying to offer some shelter from the storm. Though still in a relative degree of shock she was able to nod in response to the leader's inquiry.
"Good" Stoick said his relief dripping clearly from his words. Turning he pointed to two of the other men, "These men will take you to the Great Hall, you two should be safe there."
Stepping forwards the pair nodded, one came forward and picked up the woman in his arms while his partner picked up the woman's daughter. Turning away they hastily made their way along the streets carefully ushering their precious cargo to safety.
Seeing them off the Viking chief left the rubble and returned to his previous duties.
Making his way through the village, Stoick continued to issue orders to those villagers that were still out and about. They could not prevent the damage done by the storm and all they could do now was do their best to minimize the devastation. It seemed that no sooner had Stoick been able to wrangle in one situation under control than another dilemma would raise its ugly head.
"Stoick," an rapidly approaching villager called out in an anxious tone "In the harbor, the ships."
Rushing through the streets Stoick made his way down towards the harbor. Reaching the cliffs that overlooked the port he stopped gazing down at the chaos below. At some point the ships had been ripped from their moorings by the storm. Now the tall waves threatened to swamp the ships and capsize them or worse to smash them to pieces upon the craggy cliff face. Moving around the docks below the Viking chief could see the men as they struggled with the rope lines in their attempt to wrestle the ships under control. Each wave would wash over the docks knocking some of them off their feet and placed them in danger of pulling them off the wooden platform and out to sea.
Racing down the ramps Stoick moved to lend aid. Drawing closer he could hear the grunts and shouts of the men, many calling out instructions or warnings to their compatriots. The men had snagged several of the lose ships with grappling hooks and were in the process of pulling in. It appeared to be going well when one of the lose ships, propelled by a rogue wave, cut in between the dock and the ship being towed in.
As the ship's bow caught the taught rope it began to pull the line as it traversed the harbor.
The men held the line for as long as they were able but were swiftly forced to forfeit their grip. As the rope was pulled through their hands some who didn't let go fast enough suffered nasty rope burns acrossed their palms. One man at the rear of the line, unfortunately had not been paying attention to where he had been standing and was soon yanked off his feet when a length of the coil rope ensnared his left leg.
His footing gone the man was drugged acrossed the wharf, his flailing limbs knocking over several others. While those that remained standing tried desperately to stop the man's skidding. Acting quickly Stoick snatched up a nearby hand axe and aiming carefully threw the axe at the rope managing to sever the line. As the man was helped to his feet again, the Viking chief spared only a scant moment to be assured of his well being.
Striding down the dock Stoick hoisted a coiled length of a heavy gauge rope over his shoulder.
In passing he handed the end of the rope to one of the villagers, the receiver fastened it to the pier as Stoick moved on. Reaching the end of the pier the Viking chief dove into the churning waters and swarm towards one of the nearest of the ships. Building up momentum he jumped from the water to grab the edge of the watercraft. Climbing aboard the vessel, shakily he stood for a second or so getting used to the rocking of the vessel. Striding along the deck he headed to the bow where he tied the other end of the rope he carried with him.
Once he was sure it would hold Stoick turned grabbing another length of rope from the piles of the ship's rigging. Turning away he made his way to the stern and attached this new rope. Then taking a quick breath he dove over the side and paddled for the next ship. After climbing onboard the Viking went about doing the process all over again. Tying a rope to the bow and then to the stern before diving over the side and heading for the next ship.
It wasn't long before Stoick had created a chain of ships, each linked to the one next.
Reaching the stern of the last craft Stoick tied the last rope to the rudder, Stoick turned picking up a nearby harpoon that lay on the deck. Lashing the rope to the head of the spear he drew back his arm and released the harpoon with a mighty throw. The harpoon cut through the whirling airstreams with little problem as it flew straight and true to his aim. The sharp arrow shaped tip easily embedded itself deeply within the wooden dock.
Seeing the spear strike the deck the other men rushed forwards.
Each of the men taking hold of a section of the rope and then lining the dock they worked to pull the ship in. One amongst them counted calling out in sequence as they heaved the taught line drawing the wayward vessels inline. Thanks to Stoick's handy work the Vikings were able to pull the ships in alongside the wharf where they were able to be secured once again.
Standing at the aft of the vessel Stoick held onto the part of the rigging while resting one of his boot clad feet on the side of the ship. While the men worked to tug the ships in, the Viking chief took the moment to find some respite from the strenuous exercise he had just finished.
Once the moorings were in place Stoick nonchalantly stepped off the ship and onto the dock with the others. As his foot touched the wood of the wharf his ears were met with jovial cheers and congratulations, but it was what he didn't hear that nagged at him. It was then something occurred to Stoick, for the first time he noticed that howling winds had all but disappeared. Turning he looked out to the sea, with wind the waves too had died down but were still powerful nonetheless.
The others too followed his gaze and watched as within a matter of minutes the great swells that once posed such a threat were reduced to little more than gentle ripples.
A rumble from the sky pulled the Viking's attention upwards. The great pelts of rain still fell washing over their faces and drenching their clothes, but like the waves in the harbor the downpour began to lessen. Soon it had dwindled down to little more than a light shower till it ceased to fall all together leaving nothing behind but the humid night air. All over the village the Vikings watched as what had once been an abyss of nothingness fade and the first traces of the night sky become visible. The veil of the storm was quickly being lifted away taking with all traces, until just like that it was gone entirely as if it had never been laving the bewildered villagers to stare up in awe. Even now Stoick could hear the soft mutterings of those gathered around him as they began to voice the myriad of questions that now plagued their minds.
Although they could have seemingly stood there for ages but with the storm passed they now had to see to the village.
Taking a few minutes to survey the ships looking for any major damage and checking their moorings a final time Stoick and the others turned making their way back up the wharf. Striding up the system of ramps they made their way up the cliffs to the village. Some of the villagers had started to come out of their homes, all staring tentatively to the sky. Others merely wandered with a stunned look about them as they bore witness to the damage wrought.
Though it was difficult, they had to get passed what had happened and start sift through the aftermath. Doing his best Stoick set to organizing the villagers into groups, making it clear the main priority was to seek out any that may be wounded and see to it that they received whatever care they required. Secondly was to start the lengthy process of cleaning up the mess.
As it stood the village was a far cry from what it had been.
The storm's fierce winds had done their work well. A pair of the catapults had been torn down and several homes had been destroyed while just damaging others to different degrees. In fact it looked as if nary a single building had been able to escape being touched in one way or another. The streets were cluttered with all kinds of debris; mostly it was bits of wood from the houses and other small structures but there was also a fair number of things from the island's forest that had been uprooted and deposited in their village.
Hours wore by like sandpaper as they worked on into the night.
"How many wounded?" Stoick asked of one from the cleanup crew.
The fair-haired man turned, "A fair number," he replied solemnly "Thankfully none were grievously so."
"Oh Odin be praised" the Viking chief recited in relief at the prospect of not having to bid a final farewell to any of their number.
"Alas, it's a pity our homes were not spared such loss" a woman commented as she tossed a large rock onto a cart. Her words spurred others to make their own remarks and soon much of the work had stopped as more and more stopped to join the conversation.
Stoick stood near the center of this mass of chatting villagers. His ears rang with their questions and speculations about what had caused all this to come about. Casting a glance at the moon he noted it traveled a distance acrossed the starry sky since he last looked. So much energy had already been expended in the storm and even more after the storm had passed. And now their fatigue was clearly starting to show upon the faces of the villagers.
Quieting the ensemble Stoick dismissed them, telling those lucky enough to return home and those who unfortunately could not were sent to the Great Hall for the night. Seeing as there was little they could do now the villagers obeyed and disbanded knowing there would still be more work to do when dawn arrived.
-x-X-x-
Though it was rare for him to meet them even Stoick had his limits. And with each sluggish footstep Stoick grew closer and closer to reaching those limits. After seeing the others off and a last round through the village he turned down the path that led home. As the Viking chief made his way along the well worn path a worrying sensation settled into the pit of his stomach. Earlier he had ordered his son back to the house before the worst of the storm had struck. And it was this that now had him bothered.
How had the house faired? Was it still intact or had something happened to it? But as those question played through his mind a more deeply concerning question crept into his head.
What about Hiccup?
Such a thought caused Stoick to freeze instantly. How often had the lad wandered off and what if he had done the same again? What if he hadn't gone home but instead tried to prove himself by sticking it out with the storm. Was he safe at home or had something befallen the teen?
Clenching his fists the chieftain steeled his nerve and increased the pace at which he moved.
Striding clear of the village Stoick felt a great sense of relief to see that his home was still standing proudly as it always had on the same hilltop since before he was born. Yet that respite was short lived when his mind wondered just what he find inside.
Approaching Stoick's green-blue eyes roamed over the exterior. To him there didn't seem to be any appreciable level of damage he could detect. Of all the houses he had seen this night it seemed that his had fared the best among them. Reaching the top of the hill Stoick paused casting his gaze back to the village below.
The stars twinkled and the moon shone brightly above as if the whole nights ordeal had been but a bad dream. But in the pale moonlight he could see the proof that they were not so fortunate for it to be so. But even so they had not suffered so that they could not recover, they hadn't lost anything that couldn't be rebuilt. And like the dragon raids the storm had come and gone and the Vikings endured.
"No worse than she's seen before" he mused quietly to himself.
Moving forwards his hand soon rested on the front door's handle. As he gripped it the same trepidation returned and threatened to consume him as he thought about just what he might find waiting for him. Taking a breath he calmed his nerves banishing the anxiety from his mind.
'Strange' the Viking thought as the wooden surface stubbornly refused to yield. Perhaps the house wasn't as untouched as he was first led to believe.
Applying a more forceful technique to the door the obstacle finally budged before opening entirely to allow him entrance. The soft glow from the fire pit lit up the room allowing Stoick to more easily look about the darkened space. It was here that the father found something that put his mind at ease.
Carefully closing the door behind him Stoick approached the sleeping teen.
Hiccup was slouched over, his back pressing against the wall while his head was inclined towards his chest. His left arm dangled on the bench seat while his right lay astride his lap and in his hand a long stick was loosely gripped. It appeared the lad had fallen asleep while waiting for his father to return home.
Standing several feet away Stoick took a moment to survey the teen for any signs of harm. Hiccup was relaxed and his breathing quite normal for someone in a deep sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief he moved forwards, stooping over the larger Viking scooped up the smaller one in his arms. Moving cautiously he did his best not to disturb his son's slumber as he made for the stairs. Navigating the staircase was difficult as several times his movements seemed to have awoken Hiccup, but the teen would merely mumble something Stoick didn't catch before drifting back to sleep.
The last hurtle came in opening bedroom door but he managed. Gently he placed Hiccup down upon his bed before Stoick covered him with the bed sheet. With a last glance back at the teen and bid goodnight Stoick turned and left the room making his way back downstairs.
Back in the main living room Stoick headed for the small cupboard at the back. From inside he retrieved a cod that had been caught not but an hour before the storm and a bottle of mead. Tossing another log onto the glowing embers the Viking took a seat on a bench. Getting off his feet Stoick let out a pleasured groan, it felt good to finally be off his feet. Taking a moment he lend back and stretched before reaching aside for a roasting skewer. Leaning forwards Stoick set the end of the skewer into a small eyelet which let the fish hang out over the fire to cook.
Pulling the cork from the bottle Stoick took a quick swing of the sweet tasting liquid before leaning back.
Basking in the light of the fire he did his best to relax. His eyes followed the dancing flames, watching as they would occasionally rise up to flicker acrossed the fish. The warmth had another effect besides helping to put the burly man at ease. The heat was already starting to dry out his clothes, that although still wet were nowhere near as soaked as they had been. Being lulled into such a state it didn't take very long for Stoick to begin to unintentionally doze off.
However, the smell of smoke and burning food helped to break him from his lethargy.
Sitting up Stoick grabbed one of the thick squares of cloth to protect his hand before he pulled the skewer from its holster. Holding the hot metal rod he gingerly gripped the fish and slid it off and onto a waiting plate. Not rotating the fish had resulted in an uneven cooking with the side facing the fire receiving a charred appearance. Satisfied it had cooled long enough he set about satiating his budding appetite. With the first bite came the soft crunch and somewhat ashen flavor of the over well-done exterior as he chewed. This dry crispy layer forced Stoick to take another gulp of his mead to wash it down.
Using the time Stoick reflected upon the day's events as he ate.
It was in the near silence of the room that questions began to worm their way into his thoughts. Looking about his home he began to wonder why it had been seemingly spared any damage from the storm. After all his home had been far more exposed to the winds as it sat alone on the hilltop, not sheltered amongst the other village buildings. Every building had some need for repair yet all he had to contend with was a mildly stuck door. Such an oddity got the Viking to ponder this deeply.
Still he couldn't help but be grateful for that when it could have easily been so much worse.
Setting aside the remains of his finished meal his hand again brought the bottle to his lips. Gulping down the liquid he pulled the bottle away with a small sigh as his gaze again fell on the fire pit. Its flames cast flickering reflections in his eyes. His mind turned now to the moments before the storm, to when the Elder had addressed him and the others.
"By Thor's hammer she was right," he spoke aloud "That twas no natural storm, eh even a blind man could see that." Then a more troubling recollection came to the forefront of his thoughts, "The Elder said something was coming."
At the time he had believed that she had merely been speaking of the storm itself. But now after it had passed was he allowed to contemplate the meaning behind the words. "If she wasn't talking of the storm… The what was it she spoke of?"