Safe Out of Sight Chapter 2, a how to train your dragon fanfic

"And whichever you pick do it quick

'cause you're starting to stick to the steps of the palace."

~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter Two

Hiccup shivered and pulled his vest tighter around his shoulders. The crisp morning air whipped at his cheeks and stung his throat as he inhaled. Though slivers of sunlight shone through the clouds, the severity of the wind and the frozen ground clearly indicated that winter would soon be upon them. Hiccup was thankful that the impending drifts of snow had yet to show themselves as he trudged from the stables, where he had stored his riding gear from earlier that morning, to the smithy. But even for the lack of snow, Hiccup could feel the chill nipping at the toes of his right foot and noted he would need to replace his thinning boot soon. He nearly smirked at the newly discovered convenience of having only one temperature-sensitive foot.

There was a distinct lack of hustle and bustle as Hiccup made his way through the village square, an eerie silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of his metal prosthetic against the cold stone. Though unexpected, Hiccup was glad for the solitude in which he made his trek. The silence that surrounded him allowed his mind to breathe, to unwind and enable thoughts normally stifled by the cacophony of his environment to flow. It was absolutely a godsend after the immense burden laid upon him by his father the night before.

After a restless night, interrupted repeatedly by the downward spiral of his subconscious, Hiccup had been relieved to be awoken by Toothless clawing impatiently at his roof. The early morning flight was the perfect remedy for his troubled thoughts. Physically separating himself from the earth had served to purify his muddled mind, to lift the heaviness that had so abruptly been thrust upon him. It was cleansing in the most profound way. If "steps toward preparing for the chiefdom" were really going to be taken as his father had stated, he would surely be pining to fly just as frequently as Toothless had recently.

Realizing that flying time would likely become the only time he would spend away from the watchful eyes of the villagers, he decided that early morning flights should officially become routine; the rejuvenation of flight as well as the rare stillness of the village were both too breathtaking to neglect. That, and he hoped that remaining in the immediate vicinity of the village for as much of the active day as possible would prevent further berating from his father. Perhaps spending more of his time performing village duties could delay the institution of any "next steps" towards leadership. Thus, despite the bitterness in the air, Hiccup continued to trek towards the forge, where helping complete projects for Gobber would serve both to fulfill village duties and provide refuge from the choking tension welling up inside his own house.

Stepping into the forge and exchanging his vest for his smithing apron hanging on its hook by the entryway, Hiccup couldn't help but notice the clean, organized condition of the main workspace.

Gobber evidently had not yet been in the forge that morning.

Hiccup glanced at the sun over his shoulder as he tied his apron around his waist. It sat just below the sea in the east. He guessed that Gobber, not the earliest of risers, would not be arriving for a while longer, leaving Hiccup time to focus on his personal projects. Time which had lately been in short supply due to the sheer quantity of riding gear that had yet to be made and redesigned for the majority of the village. While an excellent craftsman, Gobber's experience with designing and constructing dragon-riding paraphernalia was severely lacking. Hiccup's expertise in the area was crucial to creating functional riding gear for each new dragon-Viking duo in Berk. Though customized riding gear for each villager proved to be beneficial in adapting to their new way of life, it also proved to be extremely time-consuming, leaving almost no time for Hiccup to dedicate to his own projects.

He made his way to the back corner of the forge where a small area lay secluded from the openness of the rest of the smithy. He pulled aside the curtain that partitioned his personal workspace and grimaced. Contrary to the current pristine condition of the main workspace, his room lay in utter disarray: drawings and half-completed schematics cluttered the desk, papers were scattered across the floor and crammed into corners. It was thoroughly apparent that the workspace had not recently seen the light of day. Hiccup bent to the floor and set to shuffling the disorder into relatively organized piles, but he knew his efforts were futile. The mess had been neglected for far too long to be amended.

Hiccup was aware he had been lagging behind in his personal projects as a result of the considerable amount of time he spent off the ground, but he certainly hadn't expected them to fall into such a state of disrepair. Dejected, Hiccup let the papers he had half-heartedly begun to gather in his arms fall to the ground and flopped onto his back. The sudden action created a gust of air that lifted several schematics into the air. They fell lazily about him, an imitation of the dying autumn's last leaves.

One in particular floated above him and fell to rest over his face. Exhaling lightly, he reached up to move the paper from obscuring his vision and held it at arms length. It was covered in sketches, half-thought out dribbles of possible schematics that had sputtered and died out mid-creation. They all revolved around the same invention, each design tackling the device from a different angle, but each failed to turn into something that could become a physical reality. The idea itself was one that Hiccup was quite proud of and certainly would prove beneficial to both him and Toothless if he could just figure out a plausible way to go about actually building it. He sat up, mulling over the dismissed designs sketched across the paper. Each had the potential to work, if only he could figure out a way to mesh them into a fully functioning design.

He paused. Jumping up from his seat on the floor, Hiccup moved to the cluttered table and brushed aside a jumble of plans to make room for the paper in his hand. He fumbled for a pencil and frantically set to sketching. Maybe he didn't need an entirely new basis for his contraption, maybe he just needed to mesh his existing designs together…

"Oi, there yeh are, lad! I was wonderin' where yeh'd gone off tae yesterday."

Gobber's sudden presence in the entrance of his workspace nearly caused Hiccup to tumble off the back of his stool. A yelp escaped him as he spun around to face the blacksmith towering in the entryway. Having released a higher-pitched noise than he would have preferred to ever make, he coughed to ensure his next words would be much lower and masculine.

"I was…out," he explained lamely. He kept his eyes down, doing his best to conceal the schematics he had been absorbed in just moments before. He was suddenly hyperaware of the implications of his design.

"I was thinkin' that dragon o' yers had carried yeh off," Gobber called as he turned back to the main forge, situating a pair of tongs into the stump of his left arm. Hiccup smiled wryly. If only Gobber knew how close he was to the truth.

"Nah, I just lost track of time," Hiccup replied, hopping up from his stool and following Gobber, closing the curtain to his workspace behind him. He would make time for his freshly inspired project later.

He found himself forced to focus on obligatory tasks when Gobber thrust a half-finished saddle into his arms.

"Well yeh best pay attention today. Those hides aren't goin' to cure themselves," Gobber said, nodding to the piles of skins that were to become saddles. With so many villagers suddenly in need of them, the blacksmith's stall had recently doubled as a tannery. Though inexperienced with the art, Hiccup had been learning more about the process as each saddle was completed. Included in the projects he planned to complete on his own time was an improved saddle for Toothless: one fashioned with better technique than his experimental version. But he also learned that the entire process of curing hide for leather was awfully time consuming, and responsible for the dilapidated state of his personal workspace.

"I'll try my best," Hiccup replied sardonically, moving toward the hides that that Gobber had indicated. He set to work, glad that his mind would be occupied by the task for the majority of his day in the forge, disabling him from dwelling on his own troubled thoughts. However, before long, he heard the burly Viking across the stall cease working. Gobber was silent for a moment before sighing and turning to address the boy.

"Look, Hiccup, I know yeh're not much interested in yer future or the future o' the village…"

"Glad to hear you think so highly of me," Hiccup deadpanned. Gobber was certainly not one to be roundabout in his manner of speaking.

"Yeh know thas' nae what I meant," Gobber reprimanded. He sighed again, and continued, speaking more softly. "I just want yeh tae know that, regardless of how yeh may feel now, yer father has good intentions."

Hiccup groaned inwardly. This was the exact topic he was determined to avoid. It was following him, shadowing him throughout the village no matter how far he strayed from his house and father. As long as he stayed connected to the ground, anyway.

"Gobber…"

"Hear me out now, Hiccup," Gobber interrupted. "He just wants yeh tae be prepared when the time comes. Tae be completely ready tae take on yer role." He paused, debating whether his next words were even his duty to tell the boy. "He doesn't want yeh tae be in the same position he was."

Hiccup froze, dropping the hide he held in his hands and finally turning to face Gobber.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that yer father was forced to become chief before he was ready. He doesn't want that for you." Hiccup made no response; his throat was suddenly too tight, choked. Even if he had been capable of speech, he was at an utter loss for words.

Amidst the uncomfortable, infrequent relations with his father in the past fifteen years, Hiccup had never learned any specific details of his father's younger years. Occasions on which Stoick spoke of his past were few and far between. When he did reminisce, it was almost always about Valka.

Hiccup had always imagined that his father must have been enthralled, honored to become chief, and thoroughly prepared when he did. To hear that in fact the opposite was true threw everything he thought he knew about his father out of balance.

"When yer grandfather passed, yer father was merely a young man. Don' get me wrong, Stoick always knew who he was and who he was to become but…we all thought, including yer grandfather, that he'd have more time to grow into a leader before becoming chief.

"Stoick knows our lives are unpredictable. Yeh've already proven yer capable, Hiccup. He jus' wants tae be sure that yer prepared when the time comes, whenever that may be."

Hiccup couldn't stop his head from spinning. His vision had become fuzzy, the stall surrounding Gobber sliding in and out of focus. The lines of his surroundings blurred, as did his conviction from the night before.

Gobber's five minute tale had revealed more about his father than Hiccup had learned from the man himself in years. It explained his unwavering dedication to a chiefdom that began with less-than-exemplary performance. It explained his frustrations with an only son who appeared to be incapable of leadership. Most of all, it explained the pressure he put on Hiccup now that he had proven he could lead in the eyes of the village.

But not in Hiccup's own eyes.

Turmoil gathered in the pit of his stomach, travelling further up his throat each moment he spent staring into nothingness, processing. He leaned on the workbench behind him for support.

Gobber must have seen the chaos whirling behind the boy's eyes, for he strode across the stall and lifted Hiccup by the scruff of his tunic and set him firmly on his feet. Gobber considered him a moment longer.

"Go on," said the older man, gesturing to the door with his head. Hiccup fought through his frenzied thoughts to comprehend.

"What?"

"Go on. I'll cover the stall for the rest of the day."

"But…but the riding gear and…" Gobber ended his protests by gripping the boy's shoulder with his good hand.

"Yeh look like yeh could use a breather."

Air was precisely what Hiccup needed. Air, sky, and nothing but sea below for miles and miles. Requiring no further convincing, Hiccup smiled gratefully before throwing off his smithing apron and bolting from the forge.

"Don' get too used tae bein' lazy now yeh hear?" Gobber called after the boy as he dashed away toward the forest. "Yeh best be here firs' thing tomorrow mornin'!"

Hiccup couldn't bother to respond with more than a wave; he was preoccupied with bounding towards his dragon as fast as his prosthetic would allow. His internal conflict was pushed to the back of his mind as he set himself to finding Toothless, then pure weightlessness in the sky.

The knot in Hiccup's stomach returned as soon as he touched the ground.

It was sickening; the moment he and Toothless landed at the edge of the village square, he was thrown mercilessly back into the tumult of his conscience, the freedom that had flowed through every fiber of his being in the sky stripped away.

Though, Hiccup pondered, the weight may have even begun to set in not as they landed, but when it came time to turn back to Berk. Toothless had yet again adamantly refused to change course, becoming irate rather than saddened as Hiccup insisted they return. Upon landing, Toothless had almost immediately bounded into the woods without showing his human any playful affection or farewell as he usually did.

Hiccup reached up to stow away his riding gear on its shelf. The stables were empty as he continued to stand in front of his shelf, unwilling to begin the trek back to his house.

It was simply unfair. He shouldn't feel torn between Toothless and his village anymore; that was precisely why he had found the courage to present his blasphemous ideas to an entire village of obstinate Vikings. He had sacrificed his leg, nearly his life, to make amends between lifelong enemies. Was that still not enough for the two halves of his soul to peacefully coexist? And if it wasn't, Hiccup wondered if they ever would.

"Look who decided to come out of hiding." The girl's voice broke the haze in Hiccup's mind, forcefully throwing him back into the outside world. He spun to face the stable entryway from where she had called. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, smirking as she shook her head. She was surprised she had even managed to find him given his increasingly frequent disappearances as of late.

"Oh…hey, Astrid," Hiccup replied as she crossed the floor to stand only a few paces away from him. She appraised him, but was still unable to fathom the boy's dazed expression. When Hiccup failed to continue, she sat back on her hip, determined to uncover the thoughts he was determined to keep out of sight.

"You've been disappearing," she observed. "Again." Hiccup acknowledged that he was falling into a routine similar to his frequent forest excursions from only a few months ago.

"Yeah, I guess I have."

"You've been flying."

"Mostly, yeah." Hiccup ran a hand through his windswept hair, only succeeding in mussing it further. While he averted his gaze to the floor, Astrid looked directly at his face, silent. His eyes were dull and sunken from worry, anxiety emanated from his voice and posture. He was weighted and weary, but, more than anything else, tired.

"I missed you."

Hiccup's eyes snapped up from their focus on the floor to regard the girl, partially in surprise, but also to confirm the sincerity of her statement. When her expression revealed nothing but authenticity, the boy let himself grin, the simple action relieving an extraordinary burden from his chest. Astrid allowed a chuckle at his bewildered reaction. Pleased to have succeeded in lifting his spirits somewhat, she reached to take hold of Hiccup's elbow.

"C'mon," she said, nodding her head towards the entryway, "Let's hear what's on your mind." She moved to the door, turning to the path that led, not toward the village square, but through the hills overlooking Berk. Hiccup, glad to have a human who was willing to listen, followed.

"Wow."

"Yup."

"Sounds like a mess."

Hiccup merely nodded and lay back on the grass, resting the back of his hand over his eyes. Though it been particularly chilly early on, the day had proven mild for late autumn, and Hiccup savored what he knew would be the last warmth of the year before the snow swept in.

While wary at first, Hiccup found that reliving the confrontation with his father was unexpectedly freeing. He was surprised when Astrid proved to be understanding of his predicament, even sympathetic. Though her treatment of him had improved tremendously within the last month since their discovery of the nest together, he was still taken aback when the girl who had disdained him so since childhood showed him understanding and respect. Of course, he wasn't complaining. He was sincerely fond of the gentler Astrid and was thrilled that she seemed taken with him as well, but it would take some time to grow comfortable in each other's company.

Regardless, Hiccup was glad to have another human who genuinely wanted to know what was plaguing him and, above all, was willing to listen. Not judge or advise, but listen and understand. Her openness meant more to him than the eager attention of the entire village.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I have no idea," Hiccup groaned, still covering his eyes.

"Well, you've already exhausted the stupid and crazy options." He could hear the smile in her voice. He lifted his hand to glance wryly back at her.

"I guess I'm out of alternatives then aren't I?" he teased back. For the first time, Astrid threw her head back and laughed at his words. He allowed himself to join, relishing the carefree moment amidst the mess he found piled upon his shoulders. Hiccup swore their laughter could have carried over the rooftops of the village and out to the cliffs of the shore, ricocheting off the craggy rock faces and overhangs, bouncing off the rolling waves and out to sea far beyond the limits of the isle.

"Well, for now I'm sure Toothless is enjoying the ample flying time," Astrid chuckled as their raucous mirth died down. Immediately, Hiccup was reminded of his ever more pressing dilemma with his dragon. Astrid noticed the distinct shift in his features. There was something else the boy was hiding that he wasn't telling her. "Out with it."

"It's nothing," Hiccup said as nonchalantly as he could muster. He could feel the heat of Astrid's stare boring into his shoulder. He didn't have to look at the girl's face to know she wasn't letting him leave until he explained himself.

But he looked at her anyway. Her eyes were blazing and her mouth was set in a stony grimace. Though, behind her dangerous glare, concern flickered in her expression. Hiccup had to remind himself that this was the new Astrid: the girl who had literally dragged him from his hiding place, who had just sat and willingly listened to his unfiltered anxieties and had understood. She deserved the chance to show the same understanding of his predicament with his dragon.

He exhaled, resigned.

"Toothless has been restless lately, antsy. We could be flying for hours, but when it's time to turn back he's so…reluctant. He'll ignore me. Get angry even, lately." Hiccup found Toothless' behavior difficult to put into words, but Astrid listened on nonetheless. "I…he's not happy. And he won't even try to communicate what's wrong." He looked away from the girl and out over the rooftops of the village, focusing on the distant horizon where the sea fell over the edge of the earth.

"I don't know what to do, Astrid," he admitted, lying back again on the grass and staring blankly up at the sky, which had proven only to be a temporary tonic for a more serious disease.

She was quiet, narrowing her eyes at the far-off spot Hiccup had been focusing on earlier. Puzzled as well, she reclined back on the grass as Hiccup did.

"Well," she pondered, "if I were a dragon I wouldn't be happy trapped in this village either."

The ground beneath Hiccup tilted nauseatingly. The warmth of the air instantly froze, stagnant in his lungs, disorienting.

The rift between the two halves of his life was far more concrete than he had thought. It was obvious, so painfully obvious, now that someone had actually said it aloud. The extended flights, the restlessness, the irritability: Toothless was a majestic beast chained to the life of a house pet because of his weakling, handicapped rider. And he was finally growing tired of it.

Suddenly, Hiccup had more problems than he knew what to do with.

Blurdeblurdeblurdeblur. Astrid? Nice? Whaaaaa?

I tried to keep a bit of an attitude around her, but with a more caring touch.

Hiccup is sad 'cuz he's insecure and feels inadequate. I wonder what Toothless has to say about that. If he'd show up, which he didn't really in this chapter. But he will I promise.

As always, constructive feedback is as well!