Quite suddenly, Gothi saw it. And she wondered, with a chill, how she had missed it before. The keyhole of the Dragon Eye - that odd, unique shape. She had seen it before. Many times before. She turned away from the sight of it, willing herself to think of other things, as the emotions that were flooding through her began to write themselves upon her aging features. But Hiccup, ever a sharp boy, had noticed.
"Gothi, are you okay?" he asked concernedly. She turned, and there he was, leaning towards her, brows furrowed in concern, hand reaching forward in an obvious desire to help. "What is it?"
She studied him with a frown for a moment, debating, and in the next second, she had decided. She would show him. Of course she would show him. So she stretched her arm out and pointed. Pointed to the scar that matched so precisely the oddly-shaped hole in the maddeningly-mysterious Dragon Eye. She could feel his eyes on it, studying it with the almost unnerving focus and incomparable perception that he had shown even as a boy. Yes, Stoick had complained of Hiccup's short attention span when he was younger, but even then, when something interested Hiccup, it really interested Hiccup. And that intense interest, she knew, was now upon her scar. But knowing he was thinking about it just made it harder for her to not think about it. So in her usual silence and abruptness, she turned and walked away.
"Gothi..." Hiccup called after her quietly, and though she could not see it, she could feel that his hand was outstretched once more. Reaching towards her in curiosity, but also in concern. Definitely concern; she could hear it in his voice. She continued forward, out of sight of the others, and cast her mind around, wanting to think of anything but the memory of that day. Her thoughts landed, quite quickly, upon Hiccup.
Or more accurately, the way his hand had reached after her as she left. The way his concern had been palpable in the very air around them. The way his eyebrows had knit together in quiet worry. And the gentle kindness written on his face. Always, the kindness. It was different, Gothi knew. Very different. Of course, the boy had always been different, in nearly every possible way, and those differences had always proven to be good ones. And this kindness - this genuine caring Hiccup so clearly possessed - well, Gothi had no doubt that this was a good difference, too.
And this kind, caring demeanor was not something just shown to her. Gothi had seen him interact with many of the villagers, and the kindness had not left him once. The way he acted with them, Gothi knew they could feel it too. When Hiccup stooped down to pick up a little girl's fallen stuffed dragon toy, and dusted it off before handing it gently back, Gothi knew the girl could feel it. Her mother could feel it, too. And when a lonely terror landed hopefully on the young viking's shoulder, and he scratched it fondly and let it play with his hair, all the people who happened to be watching him could see it as clear as day. And when the stressed-out viking on a late-night stroll ran into the chief's son, and Hiccup, no matter how exhausted, provided a smile, a listening ear, and some incredibly insightful advice, that viking would hear it in his voice. It was obvious, whatever he did, that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III cared greatly, powerfully, and genuinely about the people of Berk. It was a mark of his greatness, without a doubt. Hiccup's bottomless supply of love and kindness was evident to anyone - human or dragon - on Berk, and in turn, he had wormed his way into even the hardest of viking hearts. The humans and the dragons all loved him, and cared for him just as genuinely as he cared for them. They would stand behind him to the bitter end, Gothi knew. She smiled a little. That boy had no idea what fierce loyalty he had created.
Yes, young, skinny, un-viking-like Hiccup would be a truly great chief. There was nothing of which she was surer.