Three months after the battle, we were recovering. My dad was doing fine, Toothless repaired, Richard healed. The funerals for those had died in the battle were over with, grieving still happening but lessened. Wounds healing. Scars fading.

I had not gone through this unscathed.

My leg still ached every day, phantom pains practically ripping me apart on occasion. I bit my lip during the day and cried at night. I refused to let them know how much pain I was in.

On a cheerier note, my dad and I were finally making amends. The painful past seemed only a memory. He was proud of me. He kept repeating it over and over, how I had saved him, the village, and ended the war. How I had lost my foot in the process. He hugged me every night, and when I had pain in my leg, would help me not to fall. Richard did the same, hugging and helping. Toothless as well, though he didn't hug. I felt as though I finally had a family. A father and a brother. A friend and a village.

But I felt... incomplete. I wasn't just missing half my leg. I was missing half my family.

I wanted a mother. The only thing I still needed and had never had.

I walked down the stairs from my room, hearing some music. I saw my father, form outlined against the fire. A soft tune was coming from something he was playing. An instrument. As I approached, I saw a flute of some kind in his hands. The tune was light and melodic, but slowly turned sad and slow, like a last lullaby. I wondered what song it was. He stopped playing and put the flute down. He didn't seem to realize I was there.

I heard him begin to sing. The same melody as he was playing.

"Way down in the caves.

Among the roots and fossils.

A people hides below and lives

Far below the hills.

Years ago, they saw the sun.

Shining in the sky.

Machines now rule up above.

So deep they had to hide.

When someday they return again,

When the machines rust

They will build cities again,

Never again machines to trust.

If their lessons they do not learn,

A hefty price to pay.

Creating things that think and live,

Can take their lives away.

So heed our warning, surface folk,

For if you choose this path.

When you build the intelligence...

It will take out it's wrath."

He stopped, shaking a little. I was amazed. I never knew he could sing, or that such a song existed. It seemed to tell the whole story. Except the CAEs. The chips I had invented changed everything. I could reprogram every single AI on the planet. It would take a long time, perhaps my entire life. But nothing would keep me from doing it.

Nothing.

He began to sing again.

"My father told me something that happened once, so long ago...

Up where there was wind and sun, green grass and white snow.

I believed his every word, he was a wise old man.

He would tell me everything about this ancient land.

People saw the sun each day, saw the cloudy sky.

And they would greet each other as they passed by.

Oceans blue, and mountains great, fields of flowers too,

If someday I reached it, I'd come back and tell everything to you.

Then someday we'll live up there, in that wonderland.

You and me can live in peace, heart to heart and hand in hand."

He took a deep breath and sighed. I moved up and sat down beside him silently. He didn't move.

"That was beautiful." I whispered, picking up the flute.

He smiled in the firelight. "Thank you, Hiccup. Those are songs you didn't know, right?"

"No, never heard them before." I ran a hand down the flute, looking at the beautiful markings.

"That's because I wrote them." He gave me a soft grin.

"I didn't know you could do that.." I murmured, amazed.

"I didn't know you could invent and build machines." He sighed. "That flute belonged to your mother. I made it for her in place of a ring. Wood is rare down here, after all. She loved it, and I taught her to play it like my father taught me."

I rubbed the wood reverently. "Wow." I had no idea this flute was so important.

I moved to hand it back.

"I want you to keep it, Hiccup. It's yours now. Maybe you'll learn to play it, too." He stared me in the eyes.

I let out a small gasp. "K..keep it?"

He smiled and nodded. "I know you'll put it to good use."

I nodded, clutching the flute with care. The beautiful color of the wood, the smooth sides and soft bumps and outlines, the wonderful little carvings on it. Someone had spent many hours on it. And now it was mine.

I moved it up to my lips and gave an experimental toot. A single note sounded. My dad chuckled and showed me how to play different notes. We spent some time together, him teaching me how to play my new instrument. I found I had a knack for it.

I finally stopped, putting down the flute and turning to my dad.

"Thank you, dad." I said, smiling.

He patted me gently on the back. "Of course. You deserve it, anyway. Think of it as a present, a way for me to make up for those fifteen years. For all those birthdays and holidays I didn't spend with you. For every disappointed look. I only wish I could give you more."

I shook my head. "You already have."

I hugged him tightly, grateful for his presence.

Richard walked the short distance up the hill, spotting a familiar silhouette next to the tree. The figure was playing a flute, the notes ringing clearly and beautifully. The player had skill, perhaps the skill of playing it for many years. He moved up and sat down.

His friend stopped playing the flute and turned to him, tears in his eyes. Richard put a hand over his, still clutching the beautiful flute.

They exchanged a look.

The two men smiled at each other, one smile weaker and more forced.

A deeper voice came out of his mouth. "I miss him, Richard. I miss my father."

Richard nodded. His own voice failed him.

They cuddled closer together.

The memory fades, and Hiccup stops writing in his book. The first part of his story is in writing now. The rest is still to come. He feels a deep ache in his heart for those he's lost. He puts the pencil down and closes the book. He looks beside it, where an ancient flute lies on the table, well taken care of, but worn and old. It's impossible to tell how long ago it's been made.

Hiccup sighs and moves to his room. He stares at something for a long time. His hand squeezes the doorknob, and he begins to close the door. He looks up at us for a moment.

"Remember when I was a boy...? That was so long ago... Now I'm old... very old."

He moves a hand to rub through his hair. Still a mess of brown. A smile lights his young face.

We wonder why he says he is old, yet doesn't look it. He seems to realize our curiosity.

"I'll tell you everything... for now, just read that again in case you missed something." He gestures to the book on the table in the small room. "I'll see you later. For now, I'm tired, my friend."

With that, he closes the door. We turn to the book.

Missed something?