How to Train Your Friend

Chapter 8

Spitfire

Rough scales rubbed up against Jorvar's face, and he felt their coarse touch tear across his aching front. They weren't going to draw blood, but it was as if sandpaper was begin used to try and smoothen his face down to a softer state. It was a few second before he noticed that the entire world was black, and he couldn't see anything aside from a motionless void before his eyes. In time, he eventually realized that he had passed out, yet again. If this kept up, he was sure to become the laughing stock of Berk. Jorvar Asvald VI, the fainting Viking. Jorvar hated the way that sounded.

Cracks of light began to form at the bottom of the void he was staring into, and from it came blurry shapes and images. He thought he saw a giant reddish circle hanging in front of his sore facial features, and this circle could apparently split in two and reveal an even greater hollow black tunnel of nothingness. Something shiny and pink emerged from this slowly darkening tunnel, and Jorvar face was touched by something long and slimy. The pain in his face slowly vanished into the void he'd seen, but now his face was utterly drenched in some putrid smelling goo. He tried to blink to bat the goo away, but instead, some got into his steadily opening eyes, and it burned his eyes into watering.

It was then that Jorvar remember that he had arms, for he'd been so disoriented by fainting for a second time that he forgot he had control over many functions. He moved the fingers on his left hand, and brought his entire arm up to his face and with a clean sweeping motion rid his face of the icky goo that had somehow been placed there. He blinked frivolously, and the world around him began to grow clearer. He was in a wooden room, lying on a bed covered in wool sheets and a blanket. Hanging to his left, the giant reddish circle, had been the face of the crimson Nadder. The shiny pink thing had been her tongue, for she had apparently licked him into waking him up. Her catalyst worked, for now he was shaking his head back and forth, trying to rid himself of the confusion that was currently surrounding him.

There was no one else in the room besides himself and the Nadder. He gazed around the room, and he heard the crackling of a fire downstairs. He was tempted to leave the sheets behind and journey down the steps, for hearing the fire dance beneath him suddenly made him feel chilly. He pulled his left hand up to his right shoulder, and he rubbed it with dry fingers. They felt like all the moisture had been sucked out of them, and were brittle like desert sands. His skin was slowly beginning to heat, and he moved his right hand up to his left elbow, intending to do the same thing.

However, the very second he moved his right hand, pain like that of a hornet sting coursed through his hand and down into his wrist, but there it stopped. It was almost as if there was some kind of wall in-between his wrist and forearm that prevented the pain from travelling any further. Jorvar tried to move his fingers, but they ceased to obey his command. He moved his arm into his lap to stare at it for a moment, and saw that many bandages had been wrapped around his palm and wrist. Jorvar guessed that he'd been bleeding a lot, for in several places there were blood splotches leaking through the outer layers of the wrap. Jorvar attempted to have his right fingers move again, but they wouldn't listen.

It was then that he remembered everything. Every moment from the time he set foot on Dragon Island to the moment he fainted and watched the world go black. He'd been trying to rescue the crimson Nadder from the clutches of the amorous Alpha Male of her herd that had intentions of making her his mate. As she was too young for such a thing, he and the others sought to rescue her, and after they'd managed to find her and pull her away from the herd, the Alpha appeared. After he emerged, at which he was very angry, he'd launched some of his deadly tail spines at Jorvar and the crimson Nadder. Jorvar had managed to get the Nadder out of the way, but his hand, his right and dominant hand had been caught in the volley and was impaled against the rock behind him. The inside of his hand was shattered, and his bones were damaged beyond healing. The blood loss from such a dangerous blow caused Jorvar to pass out shortly after he'd watched the crimson Nadder fend off the belligerent Alpha. The truth finally struck Jorvar like one of the six shots a Gronckle possessed. His right hand, his good, strong, invaluably important right hand, was no more. He'd never be able to use it again; he'd lost all use of it for good.

Jorvar, before he panicked, check to see if his wrist and arm had been loss in the struggle too; to his relief, they remained intact. Now he understood why the pain had ceased as soon as it arrived at his wrist. His wrist and arm were still intact and movable, his hand and the fingers attached to it were the only things that would work no more. Jorvar smiled. He should have been upset that his dominant hand was no longer working, but he could help feeling blessed that he could've suffered much worse. His entire arm could've stopped working, or have been torn off entirely. At worst case, he could've been killed by the Alpha. Jorvar used his left hand to push himself up against the head of the bed, and the crimson Nadder, who'd been simply watching him the whole time, nuzzled up against him.

Jorvar placed his good hand onto her snout and rubbed her steadily. Above all else, regardless of his hand, he was grateful that she was okay. The crimson Nadder had been the whole reason that he'd lost his hand, so to see that she was alive and well, it was like Odin had welcomed Jorvar into Valhalla early. The dragon made a quiet purring like noise, and cooed in a motherly fashion. Whether the Nadder thought of Jorvar as a friend, sibling, or child, the Viking didn't care. All he knew was that he and the Nadder were friends, and the bond they shared was strong.

A creaking noise was heard from the downstairs area. The dragon perked her head up to footprints coming up the stairs, and over the top came Hiccup, followed quickly behind by a surprisingly cheery Toothless. Hiccup approached them and pulled up the chair from his nearby desk. He plopped into it as Toothless crawled up to the foot of the bed. Jorvar now had friends surrounding him on all sides. Hiccup to his right, Toothless in front of him, and the Nadder he'd saved to his left. Hiccup reached over onto the bed and placed his hand on Jorvar's shoulder.

"Hey Jor…how are you holding up?" It was a simple question, and Jorvar giggled a bit before responding.

"I guess I'm as good as I'll ever be."

"And the hand…?" Hiccup asked softly. Hiccup was aware of what happened to Jorvar's hand, but he didn't know if it would be permanently damaged. This was the time when such information was to be told. Jorvar's stomach twisted when Hiccup asked him this. He assumed that inside, it was a sensitive topic, but instead of refusing Hiccup, Jorvar simply smiled and said,

"What hand…? Hiccup, I've always had only one working hand. This is nothing new for me. I'm an Asvald, I can take it." Hiccup shook his head. From this jolly answer, he knew that his fear had come true after all. Jorvar's hand was gone.

"Well…that means that you and that Nadder are on equal terms." Jorvar turned his face to look at Hiccup, and his eyebrow rose like rain clouds over the ocean. "Yep, during her fight with the Alpha, he made an incision across her left foot. It was a pretty deep cut, and now she can't feel a thing there. We've tried, but she not getting the feeling back. Every time she's flown since then she's always landed on one foot."

Jorvar was startled by this, and he turned towards the crimson Nadder and leaned over the side of the bed and saw that Hiccup was right. He hadn't seen in before because he was too busy lying still under the covers, but now that he was looking, he saw everything. The crimson Nadder's left foot was wrapped up in many layers of bandages, much like Jorvar's hand was. Unlike his hand, blood wasn't seeping through the gauze, so it must've been tied rather tightly. Her right foot was twitching, but her left foot wasn't. Jorvar guessed that the cut had been so deep that it had nearly the same effect on her foot that the spine had on his hand. Her foot was still there, but she couldn't feel it, almost as if it wasn't there at all. The incision had been made near where her talons joined to her foot, close to where her foot met the base of her leg. It was almost clean down the middle of her foot, going across horizontally. Jorvar could tell because that was the area that was wrapped.

"She lost her left foot for me?" Jorvar said turning back to Hiccup.

"Pretty much, and you lost your right hand for her." Hiccup threw back with a dignifying smile. "I guess that means you two are just like me and Toothless. I lost my leg, and he lost his tail fin." Hiccup sat with his arms crossed, and Toothless smiled at Jorvar, or at least, the best he could. Jorvar pulled his dead hand in front of his face again, and thinking over the process of equivalent exchange that had happened between himself and the Nadder, he smirked at the oddity of it. Hiccup watched as Jorvar tried to piece it together, but stopped him before he hurt himself. "Alright, alright…that's enough Jor. Can you walk? Everyone's waiting for us outside."

Jorvar used his good hand to pull the covers off of himself, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his forehead and breathed heavily. The two dragons watched him as he did this. The Nadder even breathed in sync with him as he exhaled. Hiccup reached out a hand to pulled Jorvar up, and assist him in standing, and Jorvar gave a smile of approval. "Thanks."

Hiccup smiled, and the entire party moved down the steps. Jorvar's earlier desire to sit by the fire had vanished, for he no longer felt chilly. Hiccup warned Jorvar to cover his eyes before he open the door to the outside, and the one-handed Viking concealed his eyes from view. Hiccup led him out the door, and Jorvar uncovered his eyes. Before him, he saw that the entire gang was standing before him. Astrid was waiting at the foot of the steps to the house, and behind her was Fishlegs who was waving and hooting with ambition. Behind them the Twins were making grunting noises and trying to sound tough, but Jorvar disregarded them. Next to them was Snotlout, who was just standing with his arms crossed, and a devilish smile of acceptance streaked across his face.

"Yeah…! The dead guy's awake….!" Tuffnut yelled.

"He's clearly not dead idiot…" Ruffnut hollered at him and banged him over the helmet.

"Right…I knew that…"

"No you didn't…" And they began to argue.

Jorvar set foot in front of Astrid with Hiccup behind him, and she extended her left hand to shake. Jorvar smiled and reached out to grasp her hand, and they shook hands like old friends. "Not bad Asvald…not bad at all…"

"Like wise…Hofferson…" He saw Astrid smile and nod at him. Hiccup came around to face Jorvar from the front, and Hiccup grinned at him. "So Hiccup…when do I start learning how to ride my dragon?" Jorvar said and swung his left arm circularly, as if he was sudden a happy-go-lucky elf of sorts.

"I…I don't know Jor…" Hiccup blurted out sarcastically. "I didn't even think you wanted to learn how to train a dragon, let alone ride one. As I recall, you said they were 'monsters.'" Hiccup put air quotations around his final word.

"Bah…" Jorvar shrugged it off easily. "I never said that! That was some ignorant, lame Viking who knew nothing about dragons. Of which I have absolutely no relation to…" The message was clear, and Hiccup turned to Astrid. She nodded and gestured for him to speak.

"Well then…" Hiccup began, "We can start right away if you want, provided your hand doesn't pose a problem." He said to Jorvar.

"This flimsy thing…? No, it won't be a problem at all." Jorvar said as he pointed to his hand and shook it like it was leather.

"Alright…but first…" Before Hiccup said another word, Toothless and the crimson Nadder burst from Hiccup's large window; they ran from the side of the house to meet them up close and personal, and the other dragons around went to greet them. Meatlug sprung up to meet Toothless, and the crimson Nadder began to interact with Stormfly. It was a good thing that they were doing such, because now there'd be two female Nadders in the Academy. Hiccup watched this, and the crimson Nadder circled around away from Stormfly and hung over Snotlout's head. He moved out from under her and faced her from the front as Hiccup spoke. "You need to give your dragon a name."

Jorvar knew that this was going to come eventually. Whenever a Viking befriends a dragon and they become Dragon & Trainer, it was paramount that a system of equality was established. The easier and shortest way to do this was to give the dragon a name, that way you could speak to each other on even ground, figuratively. But what name could Jorvar give to the Nadder? He thought of many names in only a few moments. Tailwind? Crushclaw? Redwing? Spirehorn? Cloudchaser? No, none of the names seemed good enough to him. Jorvar turned to stare at his new dragon and friend, for in a moment, it was apparently decided that they were dragon and trainer. This didn't bother Jorvar, as he'd felt honored that instead of choosing his dragon, his dragon had chosen him. In more ways than one, he was like Hiccup and Toothless. The similarities struck him as coincidence, but in his heart it felt more like fate. Jorvar watched as his Nadder toyed around with Snotlout, but before he thought of any other possible names, she opened her mouth and he saw an orangey glow forming from her within throat. He knew what was coming.

"Snotlout, get down…!" Jorvar called to him, and the bulky Viking covered him head and threw himself towards the earthy soil as a stream of fire escaped from the Nadder's mouth. No one else was in the fire's path, and Toothless quickly fanned it out. Jorvar ran over to Snotlout and his Nadder, and he pulled the black-haired Viking up with his left hand. "Snotlout, are you okay?"

"Yeah, what was that about?" He said with aggravation in his voice.

"I don't know, I guess she knows that she's getting a name or something. It must excite her. I didn't know she'd spit fire like that." The light bulb over Jorvar's head lit up, and his smiled formed over his faced like the moon goes over the sun during a solar eclipse. "Spitfire…" Hiccup turned and faced Jorvar as the name was said aloud, and he faced him back. "Her name will be Spitfire."

Jorvar saw Hiccup smiled back to him and nod in approval. "Well then, let's get going to the Academy. You and Spitfire have a lot of stuff to learn before you can start flying together." Spitfire faced the sky and roared. Jorvar could tell that she understood her new name, and that she loved it. Jorvar stroked her nose, the thing she enjoyed the most. Without delay, Hiccup, Astrid, and Jorvar, along with their dragons headed off to the Academy, eager to start Jorvar's training. Everyone else stayed behind in the village, for they had had enough of Jorvar and Spitfire for one day, this was especially true for Snotlout.

As they walked down the wooden planks that led to the Academy, Jorvar turned around and watched the village slowly fade from view. He continued walking with Spitfire by his side. Never in his life did he imagine that one day his world be utterly rocked by a dragon like a Deadly Nadder. But he guessed that in the end it was all fair, and soon enough, he'd forget entirely that he ever had a working right hand. In his mind, he'd traded it for something far more valuable: a best friend.

…

"Alvin sir…?" Said Savage as he approached Alvin from behind, "The reports are true, there is a new dragon trainer on Berk. And he's an Asvald, just like you said he'd be." Savage stood with his hands together, as not to provoke Alvin into yelling at him.

Alvin quickly spun around and stared at Savage through his scraggily eye lashes, and he grunted as he turned back around to face the sea from his fortress on Outcast Island. "Excellent…we can use that to our advantage. Now, we just have to wait…" Savage nodded his head, and with his usual amount of fear navigating its way through his body, he left. The chief of the Outcasts stood proudly looking over the ocean, and even though no one was around, he faced the direction of Berk and spoke. "We're coming for you…be ready, Jorvar Asvald VI."