He knew it was a rare evening when they sat all together, he in his mother's lap staring at his sister who in turn sat across the table, his vision often marred by tankards, candles, and a variety of bric-a-brac.
His mother held out her hand and dropped two bone-carved dice into his hand. "Roll 'em'"
He nodded and let them go across the table.
"Four," his father stated. He gathered them up and handed them back.
"You've come across a sea-serpent in the Waters of Estrangement. Now you must see if you can defeat him."
"Why isn't it a her?" Frostbite demanded belligerently from where she was sitting in her father's lap.
"Because it's rough!" Splint retorted and rolled the dice again.
"Girls are rough!" both his mother and sister proclaimed which made him re-think his statement.
"Bludgeonstick told me only boys were rough."
"Don't listen to that maggot," his sister demanded.
"Sweet cake, what did I tell you about being nice?" Their father moved a piece on the 'map'.
"Hey! I defeated that serpent! He rolled an eight!" Their mother frowned and reached out to grab their father's wrist in protest.
His sister didn't start to answer his question about being nice because their father's attention was now on their mother. Frost only stuck out her tongue at him, which she did when she thought she was right and he was wrong. She stuck her tongue out a lot.
"No dearest, that serpent was a level fifty-two and your dwarf had to roll at least a ten to defeat it. You are set back, you have to take the land path to get to the Den of Treasure."
He felt his mother's stomach heave in and let out—a frustrated breath hit the curls of his head and rustled them.
"Well, you should have told me that before—isn't that your job as the Denmaster?"
Splint didn't really understand his parents' game. He didn't understand the math or the map that wasn't a map or even some of the words they used. He just liked rolling the dice. His mother would give him a big smack on the cheek when he rolled her turns favorably.
But now she was caught in debating his Father's rules.
Both Children knew the game was over for the night when that happened.
He felt a shove from behind as they climbed the stairs to go their beds.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Proves girls are rough," Frostbite replied without a drop of regret.
He opened the door to his darkened room. He had to share a bed with his younger cousin, Bludgeonstick. Bludge had been put to bed earlier by his aunt. His cousins couldn't keep their eyes open long after nightfall because they spent most of the day wearing each other out.
He insisted he could get himself ready for bed now that he was six years old. Usually his mother would help him get out of his day clothes but now he was thankful she was distracted so he could prove he could do it himself. He grumbled and grunted trying to pull his tunic over his head. He didn't like being in the dark for long, and having his head trapped in a case of wool didn't help—it was itchy.
"Mppf!" he struggled getting his large arms out.
Suddenly there was a vicious tugging not of his own. It didn't stop until his head was free of the woolen tunic, leaving him in an under cover of cloth and curls stuck toward the ceiling.
It was Bludgeonstick who had helped him, "I was sleeping. You woke me up." He didn't sound pleased which made Splint wonder why he had bothered helping. In fact he was surprised Bludge didn't just stand there and laugh.
The fact was though, no twin awake after dark was a good thing.
"Well, sorry."
It took a moment for Bludge to respond, "Okay, so 'cause I helped, I get to sleep in the bed by myself."
Then Splint knew why Bludgeon had helped him, "No, it's my bed. I get to sleep in it 'cause it's mine. You just get to stay here because I'm nice."
"No, I get to stay there 'cause otherwise the moms would get mad at you."
"I could make you sleep on the floor."
Bludge shrugged off that comment, "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be stucked."
"That doesn't mean you get the bed all to yourself."
Bludge was always trying to have the bed to himself, even when he was asleep he would kick Splint and steal the blankets all night which was downright rude in the winter when it was colder than Niflheim in the upper part of the lodge. They didn't have enough room for everyone to get their own bed so he was forced to sleep with Bludgeonstick and Frostbite, in turn, shared her bed with Briarprick, their other cousin—Bludge's girl-twin.
"Well if you don't let me have the bed, I'm going turn into a pig."
"You can't turn into a pig!" Splint hissed and not without surprise at such a claim. He didn't think little boys could turn into pigs at least. He'd never seen it happen.
"If you sleep in the bed tonight it will happen and then everyone will get mad at you for turning me into a pig."
He wasn't sure if his cousin made sense but he really didn't want to sleep on the floor so he just pushed Bludgeon to the side and crawled into the quilts and covers.
He heard Bludgeon give a huff and then felt the boy join him despite not getting his way. He was almost as bad as Frostbite.
Usually the calls of his mother or whines of his sister or brutal pokes of his cousins would wake Splint up in the mornings. None of those woke him up. It was a soft grunting.
He opened his eyes blearily and came face to face with a wiggling snout.
"ODIN'S EYE!" His own shot open and he immediately backed away from the animal in his bed. He tumbled over the edge pulling the covers with him.
His little heart was beating so fast, startled beyond belief. He scrambled up and peeked over the bed to see that his cousin really did turn into a pig! He was there all pinkish and wiry haired with beady black eyes.
"Bludgeon!" Splint exclaimed and grabbed him by the cloven hoof to shake it. "This isn't funny! Turn back before our moms see you!"
Bludgeonstick just gave a snort. How like him.
Splint got a little upset and pushed the piglet until he was sent squealing off the bed. Bludegonstick wasted no time in getting to four feet and running in circles around the room while making high-pitched squeals and snorts. Splint chased him, shushing him furiously and frantically wondering how to get him to change back.
He knew their mothers would not be happy if they found out.
It was no use; he needed to calm the piggy Bludgeonstick down before he could take him out of the house. Maybe the elder would know what to do to change him back, or maybe even the chief!
He put on his clothes, shut the door behind him, and stepped as lightly as he could to see if he could find a rope or something to tie on his cousin to lead him out of the lodge.
He didn't make it far before he was put to do a chore. He whined to his mother because he didn't see Frostbite to be doing any chores until Ruffnut pointed into the other room where Frostbite and Briarprick were working together to churn milk to buttercream. She then told him to learn to pay more attention.
He was supposed to take some finished earthenware his mother had made to his father's stall in the market, which was not but a few minutes' walk away. The problem was there were more than a few pieces and he didn't want to make multiple trips back and forth.
"Why didn't Daddy take them when he went to market?"
"Because they weren't all fired by the time he left."
"I can't carry them all!"
"You can use that two-wheeled cart in the back to haul them."
It was a small cart, and Splint had forgotten about it. His father had used to put Splint and Frost in the cart when they were younger to be pulled along by Horrorcow the Gronkle. She waddled along with Fishlegs to the old training ring where their father taught the older kids dragon training facts in the afternoons. Splint and Frostbite would play out of the way or watch the older kids learn dragon-training from the area above.
That cart would be easier to transport everything so he started taking the bowls and carrying them out to the cart. His mother helped carry some as well but sternly chided 'Don't break any of them!' when he looked to about fall, stumbling over a small rock he hadn't seen at his feet.
He mumbled his sorries and heard his tummy rumble.
Ruff heard it too and assured him he would get his morning meal after he had done his work. She and his auntie Harkin were baking bread for it before he had opened his eyes.
He gave a little sigh of anxiety because he knew he still had to figure out how to get Bludgeonstick to stop being a piggy. He also needed to figure out how to get the lad out of the lodge.
He pulled the cart along to his father's stall ; it was full of his mother's wares. He wondered if Bludgeonstick could even turn back to a human once he was a pig, or was he just a pig forever? His aunt would be so mad if she found out. He took a nervous gulp because his uncle Tuffnut would be even more furious if he learned that Splint had caused his only son to be a pig, and maybe forever!
"Oh son, what's the matter?" He heard his father ask. He was already at the stall. Had navigated his way without thinking about it. His face must have betrayed his worry.
"Nuffin' Daddy. I brought you some of Mama's clay stuff."
He could see a pile of cleansed bones next to his father's workbench. A chisel and a hammer laid on top. The smell of laquer his father mixed to coat finished pieces permeated the stall. His Dad was the only bone-carver in Berk and he worked hard.
Fishlegs unloaded the cart and set the bowls and mugs next to other clay-made wares that hadn't sold yet. His mother shaped them quite fast. He remembered one afternoon she got their Terrible Terror, Snipe, to fire up to fifteen pieces. It was tricky because Terrible Terrors could only could one shot of fire at a time before having to regain it in their belly.
Splint knew this not only because his father had told him but also because Bludgeonstick tested the creature's patience and usually ended up with light singe marks on his clothes. They knew it took an hour for a Terror to build enough fire to strike again.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"How do you make a pig go where you want it?"
Fishlegs didn't even pause to think or become suspicious. "Well you use canes or boards to herd swine.
If you hold wooden boards up to them about yea big." He opened his large arms to show it was maybe as long as Splint. "You can trick pigs into thinking they are walking into a wall so they turn and avoid it."
But Splint didn't have a board or a cane and sighed with disheartenment.
His eyes wandered around the stall once more and stopped on an empty burlap sack. "Can I have that sack?"
His father looked over his shoulder and saw what Splint was pointing to. "Sure son, what for?"
"I'm gonna...gonna put something in it!"
His father arched a brow with the beginnings of suspicion but Splint snatched the sack and threw it in the cart before saying 'Bye!' and carting himself away.
He was going to sack that piglet and haul him out over his shoulder.
He arrived back home and ditched the cart in the back, then ran through the rear door on route to his room. He had all but forgot his hunger in his determination to get the piglet out of there—which was rare. However, once he passed the meal area and smelled that freshly baked bread and buttermilk he had to stop and gorge himself.
The girls looked tired and the women still seemed to be waking up. His entire family was fond of sleep.
"Mommy, he's eating all the bread!" Frostbite whined, but only half-heartedly.
"Splint, share!" was the short and effective chide of Ruffnut.
"Where's Bludegonstick? I haven't seen him all day," is aunt wondered as she spread her own piece of bread with skyr.
Splint about choked on his food.
"That's why you don't put it all in at once," was his mother's advice.
"You're a pig!" Briarprick blurted; she had such a loudmouth.
She had no idea it was her brother that was actually the pig, quite literally. But he wasn't going to tell her in front of everyone.
Splint could only frown and keep bits of breadcrumbs from falling out of his mouth, "I haffoo gogh."
"What?" the females asked, all staring at him and he found it unnerving.
He took a swallow, "I havta go!"
He grabbed his sack and rushed out of the room and back to his own. Bludegonstick was sitting in the corner of the room and making small little grunts as he breathed.
"Get in this sack," Splint demanded of him but Bludge never did as he was told and stayed put. He tried again, "Please?"
Piglet Bludge did not move a muscle.
He groaned and took out the extra slice of bread he had snuck into his tunic when the women weren't looking. He liked morning bread and didn't think he should share if Frostbite never did.
He knew his cousin hadn't had anything to eat all morning so wasn't surprised when he took interest in that piece of bread. Splint threw it into the sack and Bludgeonstick stood up and went after it, rustling his snout into the sack to get a bite.
Splint jumped on him and pulled on the sack so his cousin was all the way in. Bludgeonstick started squealing and struggling but Splint cinched the end of the sack and lifted it up on his back. Odin, his cousin was a heavy little piggy!
He tried to get out of the house as fast and quiet as he could but it was hard to escape notice with a squealing, wriggling sack.
He made it out the front door in such a panic that he didn't watch where he was going. His foot hooked onto a plank and he fell over into the dusty ground in front of the lodge. The sack had fallen, opened, and piglet Bludge shot out still squealing like it was the Ragnarök.
"Shhh!" Splint got to his feet as fast as he could and chased the pink animal, trying to subdue him. He took a leap and caught his naughty cousin in a pin.
"That's my pig!" came the call of a deep, angry voice. He gulped and looked up to see Munchglob the Morose, the butcher of Berk, approach. He was a scary man with a few scars running across his cheek, and usually spots of blood were stained in his clothes from all the animals he had slaughtered.
"No!" Splint retorted and rightly horrified because he knew the butcher would kill his cousin if he let him take him. He killed all the meat-giving animals. Pigs, sheep, chickens, cows, everything! Splint had gone with his mother to the butcher's stall and saw all sorts of dead pigs before with knife slits up their stomachs as they hung from racks.
"That's my pig, was missing since last night and I've been looking for him since."
"No!" Splint shook his head and clasped Bludegonstick close. He may have been a pain in the neck but he didn't deserve to be taken by the butcher.
"You ornery little snipe!" Munchglob was furious and made a move to pull him away from the piglet.
"Don't you think about it!" It came from behind him—a low demand. It was his mother and she just happened to be holding a sharp knife.
Munchglob looked up and blinked, noting whom was threatening him. Most knew it wasn't wise to argue, but Muchglob the Morose was not a wise man.
"That snipe stole my pig!"
"No I didn't!"
"Splint, where did you get that pig?" his mother asked him evenly.
His face fell; he couldn't hide it anymore and little speckles of tears of anxiety started forming because it was all his fault. "It's Bludgeonstick! Please don't let the butcher take him! I'll sleep on the floor if it gets him back."
"Missus Ingerman, your son is a might slow in the head. This is ridiculous! I'll be taking my pig—" Munchglob dared say and a knife went twirling past his ear, just a pinch off from grazing it. It effectively stopped his advance.
"Insult my son again and I'll show you how slow I could make you."
His mother's eyes were narrowed at the butcher. She looked down on her son and kneeled next to him and firmly spoke, "Splint, you have to let go of the pig."
"But Mommy—"
"It's not Bludgeonstick."
"But I turned him—"
"Into a pig? No you didn't. He played a trick on you."
He was amazed because he hadn't told her that part yet. "How d'ya know?"
"Because I played the same trick on your uncle Tuffnut when we were your age. I told him if he didn't stop wiping boogers on me I would turn into a goat and he would be in trouble."
That did sound familiar. Except Bludgeon had turned into a pig.
"How did you change back from it?"
She sighed, "I never was a goat. I borrowed a goat and put it in the room when he was asleep. So he thought it was me all day. I hid in the hay piles as I suspect your cousin is doing the same and when I find him he is going to get a licking."
Splint looked at the piglet sadly and released it. It went running. Munchglob caught it in one arm and hauled it up. "So who stole my pig?"
"My nephew did and don't worry, the pig is fine—no harm done and he's going to get a sound punishment for that offense among other things," his mother assured. She grabbed Splint's arm and pulled him up and wiped at his tears, telling him it would be alright.
"Your uncle must have told Bludgeonstick about the time I turned into a goat and he thought he could pull off the same prank," his mother explained, ushering Splint back inside. She barked out a menacing laugh, "Well not in my house. You can't get away using my pranks in this house."
Not only did Bludgeonstick take the butcher's pig without permission to use in the prank, but he also skimped on all his chores that morning which didn't please either lady in the home.
The snipe was found hiding on the roof of the lodge. No one ever thought to look there but once Ruffnut demanded the Zippleback to catch him, he had no way out. The Right Head dropped him to the feet of both displeased Thorston women.
They immediately began to chide him for his misbehavior and, to Splint's pleasure, his punishment was that he had to sleep on the floor the rest of the week.
A/N - Thanks to Antic_Repartee to for combing through this late at night when my brain was mush and pointing out errors. Also for info on pigs.
So now you've seen more of Splint, more children adventures to come :)