Safe Out of Sight Chapter 3, a how to train your dragon fanfic

"So you pry up your shoes…" ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter Three

Uneasiness returned to knot Hiccup's stomach the moment he awoke. The room was quiet, and unmoving save for the dust that lilted through the gray morning light that streaked through the chilly air from the window. The stillness wasn't good for him; it made it far too easy for him to dwell on the guilt already rising in his throat.

Though itching to break the paralyzing catatonia of his surroundings, Hiccup found himself utterly unmotivated to remove himself from his bed. Well-aware that he risked Toothless' disgruntled wrath by being tardy for their morning flight, Hiccup remained unmoving, unwilling to avert his gaze from his ceiling. His ceiling, he suddenly registered, that failed to tremor with the incessant clawing of his dragon as it usually did when he awoke early in the mornings. Instead, it lay as eerily still as the rest of his room.

Instantly, Hiccup sat up ramrod straight. Despite straining his ears, he was unable to identify any evidence of Toothless' presence nearby. Throwing off his covers, Hiccup moved across the floorboards to his window. The late morning sun glinted off of the snow that had fallen the night before, and hustle and bustle of Vikings moving every which way through the village square below confirmed the late hour.

Toothless hadn't come.

Emptiness settled more firmly in Hiccup's gut as Astrid's words reverberated in his head. Trapped. That was how she had described Toothless' current miserable state: chained to a miniscule plot of earth, a pitiful human settlement, by a crippled human boy. A crippled boy that, Hiccup registered, was responsible for crippling Toothless as well. Despite the incredible friendship that had grown between them against all odds, the mutual trust and understanding that extended beyond anything Hiccup had glimpsed with another human, he was unable to shake the guilt he still carried for unintentionally stealing Toothless' independent flight. While it had occurred under circumstances vastly different from their present situation, he still carried the burden with him, a seed of insecurity planted somewhere in the facets of their relationship. Toothless never seemed to acknowledge the loss outright, but Hiccup still wondered if the dragon had ever truly forgiven him. Did dragons even forgive? Or did they clutch firmly to their grudges, prideful and obstinate? And if Toothless did harbor some resentment, why did he choose to show it now?

Hiccup gazed at the village square below his window, watching as Vikings buzzed to and fro in the morning sun, clearing snow from the square, tending to food stores, and making the final preparations to sustain the village through the winter. Though with the absence of the threat of dragon raids this winter, there were no grim or worried faces: only grins and amicable greetings exchanged between villagers as they completed their tasks, prepared for the cold for once instead of fretting over lost supplies and damaged homes.

Among the hubbub, Hiccup spotted the blacksmith, peering from the counter of his stall, clearly agitated. He thoroughly scanned the square, eyes narrowed, before releasing an exasperated sigh and returning to the interior of the forge.

Before he could finish wondering what perturbed Gobber so, Hiccup's hand flew up to forcefully smack his forehead. Gobber was clearly searching for his apprentice who, judging by sun's height and the degree of Gobber's scowl, was extremely late. Darting from his window and promising himself to find Toothless as soon as he finished working for the day, Hiccup flung his fur pelt around his shoulders and flew down the steps as quickly as his prosthetic permitted. He cleared the bottom steps and crossed the few paces to his front door as stealthily as he could manage. Relief surged through him when he succeeded in making contact with the handle without any sign of his father; he must have been out in the village by this time. The rush, however, was short-lived when the chief's voice stopped the boy dead in his tracks.

"Hiccup."

The understated severity that rang in his father's voice as he addressed him caused the boy to cringe. Reluctantly, Hiccup released the door handle from his grip. So close. He was literally steps away from avoiding talking about this with his father again. Hiccup remained faced to the door, unwilling to turn to the gaping emptiness of the room between him and the chief. He desperately hopes his father wasn't planning to discuss his impending "chief training". Maybe he had a message for Gobber. Maybe he actually just wanted to hold a long-overdue natural conversation with his son. Maybe…

"I need to speak you."

Of course he did. Hiccup heard his father rise from his chair at the far end of the room and cross the length of the room to reach his son, footfalls hollow and resounding on the floorboards. Exhaling, Hiccup turned from his escape route to face the man. Yet again, the expression there surprised the boy. He expected stoicism, a firm resolution to shape his features into a stony grimace that would have persuaded proud firs to bend to the man's will. But there was only concern on his father's face, a hint of cautious optimism shading his eyes. He wrung his hands, glancing downward before speaking to his son.

"Gobber tells me yeh've been hard at work in the forge as of late."

"I-I sure have," he stuttered. On top of Gobber letting his leave the stall early the previous day and taking on Hiccup's workload, he had also lied about his absence to Stoick. And Hiccup repaid him by being terribly late. Hiccup grimaced, deflating as the thought piled still more guilt onto his already filthy conscience.

"I'm glad yeh've been takin' our discussion tae heart."

"I certainly have been…" Hiccup blatantly lied. This response inspired such pride in his father's eyes that Hiccup couldn't bring himself to revoke the statement: not with the knowledge Gobber had endowed him with, not with the new light shed on his father's motives. His father genuinely wanted the best for him, wanted to see Hiccup grow into the chiefdom with confidence and ease, unlike he had when he was young and unprepared. Stoick just didn't know how to make it happen.

"I'm proud of yeh, son. Yeh've kept up your end of the deal." He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder, and Hiccup nearly staggered under the weight it carried: expectation and undeserved belief. Barely looking up at the man, Hiccup managed an uncomfortable smile, but it read more like a wince. Unable to perceive the boy's distress, Stoick continued. "Tonight is the last before Vetrnætr." Of course, the Thing at which all preparations for the coming winter were finalized took place the night before the five night festival that marked the end of harvest work and the commencement of the season. Hiccup had never been permitted anywhere near enough the Thingstead when the chief and his council delegated to know much more about the details of the assembly. Only those who were considered to be of important enough position were allowed to participate.

Hiccup felt the color drain from his face.

"No, no, Dad, please, not again," he pleaded. His plan to lay low and adhere to his given village duties had horribly backfired. He was absolutely not ready to be shoved into this position, not at all ready to be relied upon by so many people.

"I want yeh to attend, to help with finalizing preparations: accounting for food and livestock, delegating tasks." If Hiccup were to have any hand in these decisions, he was certain they would all starve. "Yeh're ready, Hiccup."

"I can't…I'm not…"

"Of course yeh are!" Stoick's tone was gentler than Hiccup had expected, more taken aback at the boy's lack of confidence than anything else. He examined his son, shaking his head. "I don' think yeh understand how much yeh've already proven yerself."

Hiccup felt his patience thinning, disintegrating further with each oblivious comment from his father. He didn't get it. Hiccup could see him trying, trying so desperately to make the boy comprehend his point of view and agree with him, but he was disregarding Hiccup's feelings. Even after his sacrifices in the past months, even after their conversation only a few nights before, he failed to understand where his son was coming from, and Hiccup feared he never would.

"No! You're still not listening!" Hiccup snapped his eyes up from where they bore into the floorboards. "You don't get it. I didn't do any of this for the glory. Changing the way our village works with dragons, changing the way everyone looked at me, it only happened as a byproduct of doing what I had to do to protect Toothless." The acceptance from his village, peers, and father would have meant nothing had it come from killing the dragon he captured in the woods as it traditionally should have. Hiccup was steadily becoming less sure it even meant anything to him now. "I didn't do it for myself. Nothing I did, nothing I do, is meant to prove anything."

Stoick placed his hand on the boy's shoulder again, forcing him to look him in the face. "Aye, I am listening, Hiccup. I was a fool not tae listen before. Like it or not, yeh did prove something, son. Yeh showed everyone who ever doubted yeh what yeh were capable of. Yeh proved them wrong." He paused, momentarily breaking eye-contact. "Yeh proved me wrong."

The regret that tinged his father's voice managed to reach Hiccup through his seething. The fact that Stoick had felt let down by his son for years, while thoroughly understood by Hiccup and the entire village, had never been spoken so plainly. Hearing the words straight from his father's mouth enabled Hiccup to forgive him a little for the dysfunction their lack of communication had sowed in their relationship. For the first time, Hiccup saw the man openly struggling with doing the best thing for his son, a rare show of weakness, and felt empathy.

"I want yeh there tonight, Hiccup." His tone was low, gentle, yet authoritative. Hiccup knew he didn't have a choice.

"I'll be there."

"Good." Hiccup couldn't bring himself to be angry given the relief colored his voice. Stoick returned to his chair at the far end of the room, emptiness flooded the open space. Acknowledging he was now dismissed, Hiccup exited with much less fervor than before; the village beyond the confines of his house was no longer an escape route, but a continuity of his prison.

Hiccup's breath came in short, shallow pants as he worked the bellows, the cold air biting against the sweat that had formed on his brow. Quickly wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic, Hiccup continued to work his arms; he had been repairing farm tools all day, and this was his final project.

Hammering the last piece into place, Hiccup smiled, satisfied. His work for the day was complete. He could go find Toothless.

A sudden clatter arose from the stall counter, causing Hiccup to nearly drop his just- finished project. He would not be leaving quite yet. Keeping his eyes to the ground, Hiccup grabbed the axe that was dropped on the counter and weighed it in his hands.

"Just want this rebalanced?"

"A kiss would be nice too, if you're not too busy."

Hiccup spun to see that it was Ruffnut who had spoken, her elbows resting on the counter, smiling coyly.

Unable to muster a response, Hiccup instead set to rebalancing the axe, eliciting a chuckle from the girl. He felt his cheeks burn at her laughter and did his best to focus on the task at hand. That girl could be so forward sometimes…

Abruptly, Hiccup paused in his work. The axe had certainly felt familiar, but he hadn't recognized the distant designs wrapping the handle until now.

"Ruffnut, why do you have Astrid's axe?"

Again, the girl laughed, puzzling Hiccup even further. She was thoroughly enjoying withholding information, momentarily basking in the flirtatious mischievousness it lent her. When she finally opened her mouth to reply, a shout prevented her from speaking.

"Ruffnut! What the Hel are you doing with my axe?"

"None of your business!" Ruffnut called, suddenly scathing. Though Hiccup had known the girl for ages, he was stunned by the speed at which she could instantly alter her demeanor from flirtatious to violent: perhaps this was the reason her advances were so frightening.

"Of course it's my business, it's my axe," Astrid responded as she approached, coolly pulling the other girl away from the counter by one of her braids. Peeved, Ruffnut made a face at her, but strode away nonetheless. Hiccup released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"So, do you still want me to rebalance this?"

Astrid turned her gaze from the direction Ruffnut had exited to Hiccup and grinned. "Sure, why not?"

Hiccup set again to the task, glad to see Astrid, but uncomfortable given their most recent conversation; he had never been so honest about his anxieties and fears with another human being before. Was it understood that the conversation should not be mentioned, or was it normal to reference the topic again, to confirm that the exchange had actually taken place? It was a precarious position he had never found himself in before, and could do without experiencing again.

He heard Astrid's footfalls as she entered the forge, wordlessly exploring the space. She stood with her back to him as he worked, musing over projects that hung across the back wall. Utterly unsure of how to approach the topic with the girl, Hiccup settled to casual conversation as he sharpened the axe's dulled blade.

"How'd this get so worn out?"

"Just training," she replied, stretching her arms out behind her, still facing the back wall. Without the constant threat of raids, it was unlikely young women would be necessary as warriors. Hiccup didn't want to think about how she'd fare without the prospect of becoming a great shield maiden, and the ever more apparent one of becoming a homemaker instead. He wondered if she had even realized this, and, if she had, if she'd accepted it. Or if she resented him for it. "I'd like to stay in shape, you know?"

"Oh yeah, I totally get what you're saying," Hiccup deadpanned. He was clearly the last person who would understand her need to keep physically fit.

"Hey Hiccup, what's this?" Her voice no longer rang clearly from the main forge, but was muffled as it would be from behind a curtain. Hiccup whirled around to see that Astrid had made her way to his personal backroom of the stall, where his designs lay plainly on his desk for all to see.

Hiccup wasted no time in crossing the forge. Letting the axe clatter to the ground, he darted to the backroom, whipping the curtain from his path. Astrid only had time to jump back in alarm at Hiccup's sudden presence before he snatched the papers from the desk and stuffed them into the pocket of his smithing apron. Only when the papers were safe out of sight did Hiccup allow himself to exhale.

He did not look at Astrid, but could feel her gaze on him. She stared, stunned, unable to comprehend what papers could have caused Hiccup to react so forcefully. She tried to search his face, but he looked solidly at the ground, almost guilty. There would always be, she realized unhappily, things she couldn't understand about him. Astrid found herself unable to shatter the stagnant silence with any witty or blasé remark. She resolved not to press the boy any further.

"Could I have my axe? If you're finished."

"Oh. Right." Hiccup shuffled back to the main area and bent to the ground where he had abandoned the axe. He grunted, struggling to throw its weight over his shoulder. He was pleased to find, however, that it was not as difficult it used to be. Astrid repressed the urge to snigger at his struggling, and instead reached to take the axe from him, tossing it easily between her hands. Hiccup could never handle a brute weapon like that with such ease.

"I hope you figure it out, Hiccup."

Hiccup's eyes snapped up from the axe in her hands to meet her eyes. While honest, they betrayed her confusion; try as she might, Astrid was unable to grasp what was that troubled the boy. She was content where she was, while Hiccup remained unsettled and frustratingly unequipped to handle the responsibilities and expectations being thrust upon him from every direction.

"Thanks, Astrid." His gratitude was bittersweet. Through no fault of her own, she couldn't help him. He feared no human could.

With a final sympathetic smile, she strode past him to exit the forge.

Hurriedly, Hiccup threw off his smithing apron and hung it on its peg in the back wall. The curtain to his workspace hung open, still rustling from the force with which he had bolted through it. Decidedly, he pulled it shut and reached into the pocket of his smithing apron to retrieve his designs, quickly stuffing them into his tunic. He felt better with them on his person.

"Hiccup?"

He jumped at her voice; he was sure she was far from the stall by now. She leaned into the entryway, concerned and hesitant, unnatural for her. "Just be careful, okay?"

He smiled. "Can do."

Smiling in return, she disappeared again from the doorway, leaving him alone.

And he was glad to be alone; he had business to attend to.

It was time to find his dragon.

Toothless lay resting in the cove, content to be curled up napping on the soft turf. However, he perked up at the noise that broke through the peaceful stillness as Hiccup clambered down into the cove and quickly moved to meet the boy.

"Hey, buddy," Hiccup greeted, surprised at the dragon's eagerness to meet him given his absence that morning, but Toothless thought little of it; he knew his human needed time alone to process whatever it was about his fellow humans that was troubling him. Lately, flying had failed to alleviate the boy's weighted disposition, seeming instead to only intensify it. While it pained Toothless to be unable to directly help shoulder Hiccup's burdens, he did what he could to aid his human in the best way he could, be that constant companionship or personal space. Recently, Toothless had felt the latter was more appropriate.

He wondered, however, if Hiccup agreed. There was an uneasiness about the boy reminiscent of when he had first approached Toothless what seemed like ages ago: anxious, unsure of the dragon's feelings. Concerned, Toothless moved closer to nuzzle the boy. Hiccup laughed, though the sound what tinged with nervousness.

"I'm happy to see you too, bud," he said, reaching to scratch the dragon's neck, but his fingers were tense, uneasy. In doing so, he dropped his pack to the ground. Toothless sniffed at the basket, and after one whiff immediately withdrew, taken aback. The pack contained no fish as it usually did. Toothless eyes the boy. Was this the reason for his human's unnatural nervousness? Was Hiccup really choosing now?

"What do you say to doing some fishing tonight, Toothless?"

The dragon grunted in disappointed agreement, but quickly shook his displeasure; it was foolish of him to think the pack could have pointed to anything else.

He complacently offered his back to the boy, who proceeded to buckle his saddle. The boy's fingers lacked their usual dexterity, moving over the leather with careful, measured motions. The caution with which Hiccup regarded him only proved to further perturb Toothless. Didn't he trust him?

The dragon froze. Trust. That was what was missing from his human's careful words and wary actions; there was a tension that Toothless could feel pulling relentlessly at the boy, threatening to tear him apart.

Hiccup needed to leave, for his own good.

"All set, bud?"

Toothless whuffed, bending to the ground to allow Hiccup to climb onto his back. He was pained even further when Hiccup paused before mounting, seemingly afraid to do so. Their fluid naturalness and ease they had together in flight was nowhere to be found. Their relationship was tangibly fractured by the conflict raging within the boy, and there was nothing Toothless could do to remedy the situation. He purred, low, concerned for Hiccup's well-being. The boy smiled and patted the dragon's neck. The gesture was warm, but still too detached to reassure Toothless.

"I'm alright."

Toothless snorted. Lies.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but was glad for the disbelieving response; Toothless was the first to blatantly call out this particular untrue statement.

"I will be," Hiccup amended. This seemed to placate the dragon well enough, for he spread his wings wide. He crouched low to the ground, teetering on the thin line between earthly attachment and pure freedom. And then they were off.

Sunlight skipped across the waves and over basalt columns below them as it quickly receded over the horizon. Wind rushed through his hair and over his skin, erasing his mind. A joyful roar sounded over the rushing wind as Toothless moved to dive. Hiccup, consenting, shifted the tailfin and the pair dove sharply towards the rolling sea. Hiccup laughed, lighthearted and relaxed as the water steadily approached from below. At the last possible moment, they pulled out of the dive, swerving around a pillar of stone and again ascending towards the clouds. They were in perfect sync, all insecurities plaguing either one seemingly obliterated by the open sea and endless sky. Though well-aware that the utter weightlessness that lifted his soul was temporary, Hiccup welcomed it with open arms. He would take what he could get.

The fleeting nature of his bliss became all the more imminent as Hiccup reluctantly registered the fading daylight. His presence would be required at the Thing soon, and, recognizing the basalt column formation below as the resting point from their very first flight, Hiccup realized they would have to turn around. Leaning forward, he prepared to break the news to his elated dragon.

But Hiccup found couldn't stop leaning forward. His weight suddenly was completely out of control, lifting him from the saddle, held to Toothless only by his harness. His stomach plummeted, head throbbing. The sky spun around them, melding sickeningly with the pulsing waves below and tilting rocks.

They were falling.

Hiccup didn't have time to register the cause of their sudden decent, only that control was lost, irretrievable, and the rocky coastline was steadily approaching, quickly growing larger and larger, absorbing him.

Toothless roared and struggled in the air, flailing urgently to regain some control, but to no avail. They were going down.

And, Hiccup realized, heart leaping into his throat, they were going down separately. His harness, in their struggling, had detached from the saddle and now flailed uselessly in the wind.

"Toothless!"

The dragon had registered the boy's absence at the same time. Roaring fearfully, he spun in the air and reached desperately for Hiccup. The ground was sickeningly close. He wouldn't make it.

As Hiccup resigned himself to reaching the ground separated from his dragon, he felt himself pulled to Toothless. The dragon's wings cocooned the boy seconds before they struck earth.

The shattering blow jolted through Hiccup's body, jarring his bones and emptying his lungs. Hiccup felt the brute force of the impact before darkness took over his mind.

And then they died the end.

Naw that'd be dumb.

Why'd they fall? I'm not sure, I supposed Hiccup will have to figure that out later won't he? That is, if he didn't die on impact.

This chapter gave me so much crap. It just did not want to be written. I think it wanted to get Hiccup out of Berk just as much as Toothless and I did.

Any and all constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated!