I've got a whole shopping list of author's notes today!

1) Thank you to all of the amazing people that reviewed! I was a little sad that the response was below average though, so I thought that I would move my update day and see if that changed the amount of people who read and reviewed! It's worth a shot!

2) Thank you to my beta, who is always there to talk some sense into me. Thanks Sir Nick!

3) I received a lovely little message from a troll the other day who told me I can't spell because I spell Canadian and not American, which, according to this troll, is the only way people should spell. If you'd like to read how I replied to this obviously uncultured troll, you can check out my deviantArt page. The link is in my profile.

4) Speaking of my profile, if you haven't already answered my poll on my profile page, please do!

And now, for the next instalment of...

HORIZONS

Arc 2: Verðandi and the End of All Things

Chapter VI

"YAH!"

The tree was given no warning as the axe came hurtling serendipitously towards it, the worn and tarnished metal lobbing into its bark with a brute force it hadn't been expecting. Clear sap oozed from its wound as its attacker stomped towards it, completely oblivious to anything but the sting in her arm.

Astrid shoved her foot up against the tree and jerked her axe from the toughened trunk, wrenching it roughly with her entire body. She grunted as the bark held firmly onto the edge and the young warrior eventually had to undulate up and down in order to loosen it from the wood. It finally came free, and she stared at the blade in annoyance as she stumbled backwards. She frowned as she noticed that the state of the weapon had progressively gotten worse and worse with each passing glance.

She paced to the left and sat down on top of the nearest rock, glaring at the chipped axe in her palms. The weapon was as old as her great grandmother, having been forged specifically for her as a coming of age present. From then on it had been handed down to either the eldest or most promising female warrior in the Hofferson line, thus falling into Astrid's possession.

The blade, although discoloured with flecks of rust, shone clearly in the dying autumn light. A small dusting of snow littered the ground as she placed the war trodden axe upon her lap, sighing deeply as she leant back against the rock. She let the last of the autumn sunlight warm her skin as she closed her eyes, reflecting on the past few days with suppressed emotions. The past was in the past; all that mattered now was the present.

It had been three days since her inherent self discovery, and she had spent them wisely. She was nearly packed, the essentials of a journey full of unexpected twists and turns already folded neatly with extra room to spare. She had gathered the additional supplies she needed under the pretext of training as much as she was able before the winter truly set in. She wasn't sure if her mother really believed her stories, but what she thought didn't really matter. No one was stopping her, and frankly, nothing could stop her. There was nothing anyone could do or say that would get her to change her mind; she was going to hunt down that boy and make sure he never left her sight again.

She pushed herself to her feet and turned on her heel, resting her axe on her shoulder with another placated sigh. She would need to get her axe sharpened one last time before she left, maybe see if she could get it rebalanced as well. The wood was worn and old and in desperate need of replacement, but she didn't have time for petty fixes. She was on a deadline.

She hunkered down against the chilly wind that met her as she left the sunlight, and continued her trek through the forest back home. She would make the best of the dying sunlight and coordinate the last of the arrangements before sleeping in her childhood bed one last time. Then, she would rise before dawn and sneak out of her house unnoticed, leaping onto her dragon and riding into the west with their backs to the sun.

She quickened her pace and went through the objects of her backpack in her mind, assessing and reassessing as to whether she had forgotten anything. She had gathered enough food from the stores in her pantry to last her at least a week; she hadn't wanted to be greedy, especially at the brink of what her great aunt had been predicted to be a rough winter. She could function physically off of very little if need be, and she was hopeful that there would be plenty of chances to hunt during her trek across the oceans. Though they may have been the settlement the farthest west from the mainland, there were myriads upon myriads of small islands speckled amid the seas until the coast of Grœnland. There would be ample opportunities to seek out game and heighten her stores of provisions; that is, until she left the known Viking territory and travelled beyond.

The thought of going further than any of her kin had gone before troubled her more than it should have. She pulled her shawl in closer to her body and dipped her head to preserve her fleeting warmth, wondering all the while as to whether she would even make it. She scorned herself for her insecurities, but in her heart she couldn't deny that the thought of delving farther than any of her forefathers had dared to go worried her. No one had ever ventured farther than the currents of Jörmungand and lived to tell the tale. What lay beyond their churning rapids and whirlpools? A waterfall that led to the endless depths of Hel? A continuous span of never ending ocean? Asgard itself?

Astrid leapt over a fallen log, and quickened her pace through the forest, her darkened thoughts spurring her in her need to flee the murky hollows of the forest. The unknown suddenly brought with it a sense of anxiety she had been feeling on and off since a particular Night Fury and his insufferably foolish rider had scooped her up in the forest all those many months ago. She hated the feeling as it attacked her from the inside out, making her insides feel as if they were revolting against her. She bit her lip and continued her seemingly endless trek through the forest, hoping to see the light of day through the trees sooner rather than later.

Within minutes, the young warrior had made her way out of the forest, vying against the urge to check on her dragon one last time. She was being irrational and she scolded herself inwardly for it, shaking the stupidity out of her thoughts. She hated being this unreasonable and this foolish in the face of the relative unknown. She was not a coward. She was not a coward!

Then why was she starting to feel like one?

Astrid grumbled and refused the urge to lob her axe into another defenceless tree. Gods, she was getting more and more annoyed at herself. She was starting to feel ridiculous as she stomped down towards the village; her thoughts were swarming with half formed insecurities. She needed to leave Berk before her stupid mind stopped her all together, and she would never forgive herself for that.

She was just venturing into the outskirts of the village when she caught Fishlegs scurrying towards her out of the corner of her eye. She turned to him and he waved frantically, his eyes suddenly alight with some strange realization. She waved back at him warily before watching as he revolved around in the opposite direction, his wide body bobbing back and forth as fast as his stout legs would take him.

Astrid shrugged, grateful for the distraction, and continued on into the lower levels of the village. With a bit of luck, Gobber would be somewhere in the vicinity of the force, and she could hopefully get her mottled weapon sharpened professionally one last time before leaving the island indefinitely. Her hand absently travelled down towards the pouch on her hip, and felt for the whetstone that lied within, holding its comfortable weight in her palm. Besides her axe, it was one of the most important things she could ever hope to have on her during a journey that would, no doubt, take a very long time.

She opened her ears to her surroundings, and was pleased to hear the telltale moaning and groaning coming from the general direction of the forge. Gobber was no doubt in there, probably smashing something with brutishly excessive force, and Astrid hoped that he would have the time to give her axe a bit of attention. She hoisted the weapon off of her shoulder and held the handle in front of her body, grazing her eyes over both arcs of the blade. One was far more damaged than the other, and she had trained herself to favour the less destroyed side when in combat, although it didn't always work when in the heat of battle. She found herself more often than not forgetting about it when she had been in the midst of dragon training, hence the poor axe shots when she had been fighting that Gronkle.

She pressed her lips together as the roof of the forge came into view, watching as black smoke spouted from its charred chimney. It dispersed into the clear skies and floated away on the bitterly cold wind that had begun to tousle her hair more and more violently. She tossed her blonde fringe out of her eyes and reminded herself of a particular chore she had to complete before she went to bed that evening, the frown never leaving her features.

She made her way towards the window counter of the forge and peered inside just in time to see Gobber lob something sharp in her general direction, swearing up and down as if his pants were on fire. He threw his hands up into the air and bellowed something unintelligible before glaring over at Astrid with an expression of both incredulity and exasperation colouring his features.

"Git out o' here, will yeh! Yer in meh light!"

Astrid swallowed and took a small sidestep to the left, keeping her eyes on the decidedly unsound blacksmith currently waving a hammer around like a fly swatter, "Sorry."

"Don beh sorry! Beh right! Now, git out! I dinnae 'ave any time to beh doin' anythin' but what I'm doin'!"

"Can you spare five minutes and sharpen my axe? It's starting to get really dull and—"

Before she had finished speaking, Gobber closed the gap between the two of them and leant over threateningly, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"CAN YEH NOT 'EAR MEH? I'M WORKIN'!"

Between the flying spittle and the terrifying expression of madness, Astrid stepped back and nodded, only once, before tactfully taking off in the opposite direction. She flung her axe over her shoulder and kept up her sprint, the eyes of her mentor still burning holes in the back of her skull. She stopped her flight only when the forge was out of her plane of vision, and all odds of imminent death at the hands of a remarkably volatile blacksmith were reduced to nothing.

So much for getting her axe sharpened.

She stood still until her breathing retuned back to normal, and then retreated back in the direction of her lodge. There was nothing else she needed doing save the sharpening, and she figured that she might as well spend the next few hours before nightfall resting up for the journey the next day. Her mother was probably cooking some sort of stew that she looked forward to stuffing her face with, knowing that this would be her last chance in a long time to have someone do the dirty work for her. Astrid wasn't known for her cooking skills; her entire family could attest to that.

She turned down an alleyway and let her eyes graze her surroundings, soaking them in. It wouldn't be long until the sights and sounds of Berk were but distant memories in the back of her mind, lost within the swathing folds of the past. She swallowed roughly and tried to shake the emotions that were beginning to claw at her core once more, threatening to drive her senseless. Memories of the past began to swarm her, moments of both joy and suffering shrouding her senses. Recollections of her first hunting trip with her father, her first successful loaf of bread with her mother, the hand-me-down axe she had received on her tenth birthday. Time was slipping through her fingers faster than she could rightly hope for, and the radical notion of the concept was beginning to seep into her bones. She would be gone from her home for a long time, maybe forever. She could very well die on this suicide mission to hunt down the boy that plagued her dreams every time she closed her eyes.

But she wouldn't.

She couldn't give up, not really. She could be on her last legs and she would still continue her journey. There was nothing that could stop Astrid Hofferson, save her own traitorous thoughts.

The cowardly voices in her head began to torment her again, and Astrid fought to shove it back down into the recesses of her mind once more, losing herself within the creases of her thoughts. She became ignorant to the world around her, even as a lumbering giant came galloping after her from behind, bellowing her name like a war cry. She barely noticed until he had run out in front of her and effectively blocked her passage through the rest of the alleyway, forcing her to stop and glare up at the obstructing hulk.

"Fishlegs? What—"

"Shhhh!" he whispered loudly, contradicting the affect. He motioned urgently with his arms like a flailing goose, beckoning her to follow him, "Come with me. This way."

"But—"

"Come on!" Fishlegs said, turning around and leading the way out of the alley. Her curiosity piqued, she had no choice but to follow him back into the dying sunlight and in the direction of the Ingerman lodge.

The moon had long taken residence in the dominion of the sun, its pockmarked features making a rare appearance in a sky that was devoid of the clouds that floated along the horizon. Outside, the stars shone with a brilliance that spoke of a millennia, their cores burning with the fires of souls long lost to battle or strife.

Astrid took one last glance towards the western horizon before shutting the doors to her home and peeling off her boots, chucking them haphazardly to one side. She tiptoed up the stairs, her footsteps muffled by her socked feet, and dumped her side sack off onto her bed. She carefully spilled its contents onto the fur bedspread and cautiously picked up the largest of the packages, cradling it in her palms. She sat back down onto animal pelt and removed the object from its linen wrappings, revealing the gift that lay hidden underneath.

In a flurry of fanatical enthusiasm and inventor's bliss, Fishlegs had urged her into the lower levels of his home with enough force to toss her sideways, both physically and figuratively. She was completely oblivious to his eager babbling, jabbering and prattling about this thing and that without providing any semblance as to what on earth he was talking about. She stopped listening once he had led her into a small workroom, brightly lit by a slotted window in the roof.

The decor of the little workshop was similar to Hiccup's in that it was covered with papers and pictures pinned chaotically to the walls. Books reclined in towering piles all over the place in the little room, having no other home if the state of his overstuffed bookcase was anything to go by. Astrid watched from the corner of her eye as Fishlegs threw his hands into the air and exclaimed something completely unintelligible before burrowing himself in a wooden chest stocked to the brim with trinkets and contraptions. His hulking body was almost half buried in gadgets before he shouted something that sounded like a eureka and came up for air, a small wooden box held gingerly in his meaty hands.

"I've found it!" he cried, spinning around gleefully and placing the box onto his desk. He grinned and waved Astrid closer to him, eyes wide with abundant enthusiasm. He lifted the lid of the box up with the utmost care, leaning in as closely as he dared to oversee his progress. Once the top of the package was clear, he threw it to the side and peered into the box, his button nose just peeking over the edge. He reached down into the pine container and lifted out a small package wrapped in linen and held it in his palms like a crown, holding it out towards Astrid.

"A few months ago I was riding Horrorcow and...and I got this idea! And so I came down and made these, but...they didn't fit! So then I put them away...and then I heard you were leaving! And then I thought—"

"Wait, who told you I was leaving?" Astrid interrupted, her bemused expression turning into a frown.

"I...I...I don't know. It's just what some people are saying, that you're leaving and you're going to find Hiccup and you're going bring him back and beat him up when you find him, that is if you find him, which is going to be like, a +25 difficulty once the weather starts getting bad, since the elder said there were going to be reaaally brutal storm systems and –"

"—Finding Hiccup won't be a problem," Astrid said forcefully, pushing every ounce of interjection she could manage into her voice. She was well aware of the risks her journey would pose.

"But—"

"What were you going to show me?"

Fishlegs knew a dismissal when he saw one, "I...right. Right, um," he swallowed to gain his composure, his enthusiasm already faded. He looked nervous as he brought the package closer to his chest, holding it as if he were afraid that she might break whatever lied within, "Well I made these and I...I figured you might as well have them, you know, only if you want to."

He bashfully handed her the package and Astrid took it from his hands, her eyebrows raised in scepticism. She placed the parcel on the surface of the desk and unwrapped what felt like something quite delicate, peeling the layers of linen off one by one.

When the object was finally revealed Astrid took a moment to stare, completely entranced by the little contrivance that lay out before her. It was a pair of what appeared to be glasses. The lenses were colourless and transparent and the image was almost completely unmarred as she brought them up to her eyes. Surrounding the two disks of glass was a belt of treated leather and the dark material that touched her skin was as smooth as woven wool. Attaching the lenses together were more strips of leather that fastened the pair of goggles snugly in the front and loosely in the back. There was even a tightening mechanism with a small buckle at the back where she could, hypothetically, constrict the goggles so they would fit better around her eyes.

"You made these?" she said quietly, her voice semi filled with awe. Fishlegs shuffled around his workshop timidly, his hands clasped in front of him, before replying.

"Well, I had some help," Fishlegs swallowed, his eyes never meeting her gaze, "Hiccup helped with the back bit. He found a better way than just tying the leather together."

Astrid bit back the swell of something horrifically familiar in her chest upon hearing Hiccup's name and set the glasses back down, peeling her stare away from the craftsmanship of the goggles, "Why are you offering these to me?"

Fishlegs shrugged, peering over at the glasses, "It's going to be cold and windy out there, and the gods only know that you'll need to be able to see, especially in a snowstorm. I mean, what if you run into danger, or an iceberg, or a giant whale! Or maybe a fleet of pirates! Or—"

"—Thanks Fish," she interrupted him fondly, folding the goggles back in their linens, "I...I love them."

"You're welcome!" he chirped, grinning all over again, "And when you get back, you have to tell me everything about them; how they fit, how they performed in sub zero temperatures, in snow, rain, sleet..."

Astrid smiled and shook her head. Back in her bedroom, the young warrior picked up the goggles from her bed and brought them up to her face, pressing the leather encased lenses up to her eyes. Once they were in place, she followed the leather strap around to the back of her head and pulled the strip tightly, feeling for the strange metal buckle that promised to keep them fastened to her skull. She found the nook and closed the little clasp, allowing her hands to fall to her sides. She could see clearly out of both lenses, although the right one was slightly botched in the right hand upper corner. She shrugged it off and padded her way over to her parent's wooden chest, making sure that her progress was as silent as possible. She opened the trunk with the utmost care and silently reached her hand inside, fumbling around for the small glass that had been passed down through her mother's side of the family for generations. It was the only mirror their family owned, as they were outrageously expensive and merchants didn't often come to visit the westward island of Berk very often.

She finally felt the cool metal in her grasp and pulled it out carefully, pushing herself to her feet. She peered into the polished glass and caught a glimpse of her reflection staring back, determined and unwavering.

She was ready.

She was up long before the first rays of the sun had begun their ascent above the horizon. She rose out of bed with soundless ease and slid her leather headband onto her brow, brimming with static determination. She sidestepped around her snoring siblings and, having already gotten dressed before she had gone to bed, left the room without any further supplies.

She kicked the errant strands of fallen blonde hair down the crack in the floor just above the stairs, revelling in the freedom of being able to see through both eyes. Her fringe had grown out of hand, and she figured it was now or never for her to chance getting rid of it. Her bangs now rested just above the arch of her eyebrows, and she peered into her mother's glass one last time before plonking the mirror on the mantle with a definitive clatter.

She looked good.

Breathing in deeply, Astrid went to the only closet at the end of the hall and unearthed her basket from beneath a pile of linens and furs. Her mother rarely opened the door to gather anything at all from the small, crowded cubby; only her younger siblings went into the diminutive room, usually during a game of hide and seek, and they would have never put two and two together anyway. She heaved her basket up over her shoulder and padded gently down the stairs, unwilling to wake any of her family in hopes that she could leave unnoticed. She wanted her departure to be as painless as possible; playing on her heartstrings would only make things worse.

She snatched a bound piece of parchment from the inside of her shawl and left it unceremoniously on the kitchen table. No doubt one of her siblings would find it first thing in the morning, and run screaming upstairs to mama and papa. Astrid sighed and shivered, the fires of the hearth almost completely extinguished. She didn't want to drag anyone else into this silly adventure, but she didn't want to force her parents to suffer either. She was the ticket to a better life for her family. She was well aware of this, and it pained her to leave them hanging. She was the eldest daughter, the best female warrior Berk had seen in a generation, and now...now she was leaving. She was practically already gone.

She shivered again and dropped her basket onto the floor as quietly as she could, her eyes searching vigilantly for her winter coat. It wasn't on the shelf where she had placed it the night before, and Astrid wondered vaguely if her mother had put it back into the pile in the closet. She padded over to the ground floor cubby and gently pried it open, but was unable to see anything in the dark. She sighed and slowly turned around in order to retrieve a candle when something, almost imperceptibly, moved in the darkness.

Astrid crouched immediately, and snatched at the dagger strapped to her thigh, "Whose there?"

The silhouette moved again, but it was the buttery swoosh of a cotton skirt that ultimately disclosed her identity, "Looking for this?"

Astrid's mother stepped out of the shadows, holding the warrior girl's woollen coat in her hands.

"Missing something?"

Astrid immediately froze in her stance, her thoughts completely petrified, "I..."

"Did you really think you could leave without telling me?"

Astrid's heavy silence spoke volumes.

"You may have been able to fool your father, but I am not as gullible as him. I knew the moment things started disappearing off the pantry shelves that you were leaving, like it or not."

The young warrior swallowed uncomfortably and glanced away, her guilt clearly marring her features.

"Astrid," Mrs. Hofferson's voice lost its accusatory tone as she breathed in unsteadily, slipping onto one of the stools that surrounded the dining table, "Are you sure you're ready to leave? You can wait another day, or—"

"No."

Mother and daughter locked eyes in the wavering darkness, illuminated only by the glowing coals in the hearth. The stalemate grew longer and longer, and for a moment Astrid thought it would never end.

"Gobber brought you something," Astrid's mother finally said, conceding to her daughter's iron stare, "I told him to leave it at the barn."

"I..." Astrid trailed off, staring awkwardly at a dimple in the hard wood floor, "What is it?"

"I have no idea."

The silence trailed on.

"Look mother, it's not that I—"

Mrs. Hofferson brought her arms up in order to silence her daughter, "Hush. I know you're not abandoning us. And I'm not trying to stop you from doing what you feel is right," the older woman exhaled noisily and dropped her hands into her lap in defeat, "I just wish you would have told me."

"I..." Astrid gnawed at her lower lip, raking her fingers through her recently trimmed bangs. They ran across the supple leather of her headband as they passed through her hair and Astrid shivered, reminded of the journey that lied before her, "Can you forgive me?"

Her mother didn't answer immediately, and Astrid couldn't help but suffer under the flurry of emotions that were beginning to well in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed back the swell of fear that came over her and chanced a glance in her mother's direction. The older woman's eyes were full of moisture.

"Yes," Mrs. Hofferson stifled a sob as she beckoned her eldest daughter closer, "But only if you return safely, Chief's boy or not."

"His name is Hiccup," she replied with a frown, crossing her arms, "I wish you didn't patronize him so much."

"I don't patronize him, I just don't know why—"

"Stop, please. Not right now."

Mrs. Hofferson opened her mouth in protest before pressing her lips into a thin line. She too realised that this was not the time for petty arguments.

"You'll see me again before midsummer. I promise."

Astrid dove in for a hug before her mother could say another word, and held onto her tightly, if only for a moment. She let go as quickly as she had taken hold, and allowed her mother to help her get her coat on. Astrid endured it out of emotional necessity as her mother fumbled with the buttons, fastening them all the way up to the furry rabbit collar that encircled her throat. The older woman muffled another sob against her sleeve and fiddled with her daughter's hood, checking her over one last time.

"Good luck. Be safe."

Astrid let her lips curl into a small smile, "I will."

The young warrior turned around and hauled the basket up over her shoulder, tugging her boots on with frightening efficiency. She peered over her shoulder and smiled at her mother once last time, before closing the front door with a thud behind her.

She hastened towards the barn at the back of her property, eyeing the large parcel lying in front of the shed's main doorway in the weak light. She let the basket drop to the ground and bent down to examine the package, curious as to its contents.

"Great Odin's ghost..."

She stared in astonishment as she unwrapped the large parcel, her jaw dropping as she felt the familiar weight in her hands. She started ripping the dirty fabric off of the offering, unimaginably eager to see the prize that lay underneath.

It was an axe. A brand new axe.

A wave of elation drove through her system as she gripped the smooth handle in her palms, perfectly balanced between the weights of the blades. And those blades, they shined like she had never seen metal shine before. They were a work of art, perfectly rounded, expertly crafted. She swung it around, once, twice, three times. It felt like an extension of her arms, fitting seamlessly within her grasp.

She grinned, her face lighting up with a madness she had never know existed inside her. She took her old axe from inside her basket and chucked it with wild abandon at her house, the bad side of the blade lodging itself defiantly in the wood. She smiled and proceeded to strap the brand new axe to her back, unwilling to chance losing it just in case the straps of her basket ever failed her. She nodded resolutely when she felt the leather strips were tight enough and brought her goggles out of the basket as well, fastening them around her head so that they could rest on the top of her bangs.

She hoisted the basket back onto her back for the last time and opened the door to the barn, whistling quietly to get the Nadder's undivided attention. Already outfitted in her riding gear, the blue dragon skittered out of the barn and stretched her wings, her gold eyes trained on Astrid with devoted approbation. The young warrior smiled and leapt onto the Nadder's back with only a small amount of difficulty, fiddling around once she got into the saddle. She clipped herself into the riding getup with the strap that attached to the loop of metal on the belt around her waist, and then settled in as comfortably as she could manage on the withers of the blue and yellow beast.

"Are you ready?"

The Nadder prattled excitably, skittering as it soaked in the anticipation of Astrid's all important question.

"Then let's fly."

Finally! We're out of Berk and on the road! It's about time, considering we're at chapter 6 already. I guess Horizons is going to go a little longer than I initially planned...

How did you like Fishlegs' little cameo? And are any of you going to kill me for trimming Astrid's bangs? Haha!

Please review! I'd love to hear what you think!

Love and fluff,

Brontë