"Stop, dragon! I, Thor Bonecrusher, command you to stop!" With a wild roar, Thor Bonecrusher strengthened his grip on the scauldron's tail, and then began to climb. But his movements on the dragon's back did nothing, and the agitated scauldron, undaunted, continued to chase the fleeing Gronckle. Thor Bonecrusher stood up on the scauldron's back, watched to see what its next move would be, and saw it quickly close the distance between itself and the Gronckle - the oddly-familiar Gronckle.
"No!" he shouted suddenly, a note of fear creeping, unbidden, into his voice. He wasn't sure just what he was afraid of - he could have sworn that he had never been afraid of anything. A strange but unshakeable sense of confusion settled heavily upon him then, and in an inexplicable haze, he seemed to forget himself. He forgot who he was - what he was called, what he was like, what he stood for, and what he fell for. His world was a swirling mass of conflicting thoughts, ideas, dreams, talents, and memories. A fog seemed to have settled permanently in his brain, and for a moment, he was simply lost.
And then he saw, with unexpected clarity, the scene before him. The Gronckle looked back, met eyes with him, radiating utter terror. And the scauldron below him took careful aim, expanding its cheeks with boiling hot water that some part of his brain reminded him could take the scales off a Screaming Death. The Gronckle turned around and flew frantically, but the scauldron was closing the distance with startling rapidity. The scauldron prepared to fire, and then terror erupted in Fishlegs' mind.
"No!" he screamed, one hand reaching forward ineffectually, his eyes widening and his voice nearly cracking. Every pore of his body screamed fear, and his brain seemed to be incapable of thinking anything other than Meatlug. Horror claimed his every sensation, but it was like a fog had been lifted. Everything clicked into place; the world was right again - he was right again. Confusion about the past twenty-four hours threatened to distract him, but whatever had happened before did not matter in this moment. Right now, the only thing that mattered was his dragon.
"Not my Meatlug!" Fishlegs cried. "You leave my dragon alone!" And with that, he ran without hesitation straight up the scauldron's neck, and leapt cleanly off of its head, onto his own dragon. His own wonderful Meatlug. And as he slipped into his spot on her back, his hands feeling the comforting texture of her immediately-recognizable scales, the fear began to seep away. There was no terror now - no confusion or uncertainty. There in the air, Meatlug beneath him, and the infinite skies around them, Fishlegs felt at home.
Skillfully, Fishlegs guided Meatlug away from the scauldron, out of the larger dragon's line of fire, and then the others swooped in. A net held between Stormfly and Barf and Belch effectively trapped the scauldron, and the water dragon curled in on itself, rendered harmless - at least for the time being. Hiccup and Toothless joined the group as well, Hiccup looking extremely relieved.
"That was a little too close," he commented warily, eyeing the momentarily-docile scauldron.
"Speak for yourself!" Tuffnut piped up, exchanging enthusiastic glances with his sister. "That was freakin' awesome!" And then, accompanied by Astrid and Stormfly, they turned and flew off in the direction of Berk. Fishlegs watched them go, unhurried to return, and instead took the quiet moment to sigh contentedly, leaning over to embrace his delighted dragon.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, girl," he murmured to her, hugging her with all of his considerable strength. "I don't know what happened to me; I just wasn't myself." But Meatlug, apparently, had no need of his puzzled explanations; she was only glad to have her rider back once more. She wriggled in the air, grumbling happily, and then licked him kindly.
"Oh, I missed you!" Fishlegs told her, equally elated. But he was still a little confused about the day's earlier events. He seemed to have some memory gaps that he hoped the others would be able to fill. "How did I-?" he wondered, but he was cut off as Hiccup and Toothless appeared suddenly to his right, melting out of the storm clouds with a stealthiness that Fishlegs had nearly become accustomed to.
"Long story," Hiccup informed Fishlegs, in answer to his unfinished query. "I'll explain later," he promised, and with that, he and Toothless streaked swiftly towards Berk, storm clouds left swirling in their wake. Patting Meatlug gently once more, Fishlegs urged her forward, and together the pair followed the others back - at their own, leisurely pace. In a minute, the storm clouds broke, giving way to healing sunlight. Smiling, Fishlegs leaned all the way forward and laid down atop Meatlug, taking in the sun, the sky, the sea, and the familiar sound of Meatlug's flapping wings. Berk spread out into view before them, and Fishlegs sighed happily. It felt so good to be home.