Ruffnut's Wish Chapter 5
It was Frjádagr. (We would call it Friday). It was a Frjádagr like Berk had never seen before. No less than four of their teens were approaching their parents about marriage, to people they'd known for less than a week.
For Ruffnut and Tuffnut, it was a slam-dunk. As Hiccup had mentioned, their parents were quite willing, if not actually eager, to get them out of the house. Flinrider turned out to be a talented leather-worker, as well as a fairly skilled warrior, so there was no question whether he could support Ruff and a family. Ferncookie was embarrassed to admit it, due to her name, but she was a good cook, and the Mead Hall always needed cooks, so she, too, could find a role in Berk. They didn't need to seek their parents' approval because they had no living parents. So it all came down to the Thorstons' willingness to marry their children off to strangers who owned nothing but the clothes on their backs.
Like Ruff and Tuff, their parents knew a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when they saw one. They talked it over privately, for about a minute and a half, and gave both couples their blessing.
Snotlout's suit for Misti's hand wasn't so clear-cut. For one thing, she had parents, but it would take eight or nine days' sailing each way to bring the two families together to work out a marriage contract. For another thing, it bothered Spitelout that his potential daughter-in-law had no warrior skills to speak of. She was fairly good at throwing a dagger, but she couldn't handle anything bigger, and she'd never taken any training in hand-to-hand combat, ship boarding, or anything else useful.
"Our family has produced the best warriors in Berk for generations!" Spitelout growled at his son. "We've been among the finest dragon-fighters, the finest raiders, the finest Thawfest Games contestants, year after year! Now you want to water down our bloodline by marrying a girl who's good for nothing except being a wife?"
Snotlout hadn't dared to disagree with his father since he was very small, but he looked at Misti and saw someone worth fighting for. "But, Dad, a wife is all I'm looking for! It's okay if she isn't a warrior – I've got the 'warrior' thing down well enough for the both of us, don't I?"
He glanced at Misti, who was fascinated by the row of Thawfest medals hanging from a peg on the wall. "Did you win all these, Snotlout?" she asked.
"Uhh, no, just the ones on the end. The other ones are from my dad and my uncles."
"Wow," she sighed. "You come from quite an amazing family!"
Spitelout softened his manner somewhat. "I'll talk it over with your mother," he grumbled. He could guess what his wife would say. He suspected he'd soon have to pack for a sailing trip of eight or nine days.
In the Ingerman household, the discussion was similar, but it went in the opposite direction. Anitra came from a long line of raiders and dragon fighters, and Fishlegs' parents were worried that she'd dominate the relationship and make their son miserable.
"Oh, please don't worry about that!" Anitra exclaimed. "I'm a traditional Viking girl through and through. I firmly believe the man ought to be in charge."
"What are your skills and talents?" his father asked.
"I'm an herbalist in training," she replied. "I'm about a year away from being ready to treat people without consulting an expert first."
"I thought she could finish her training with Gothi," Fishlegs interjected. "Gothi isn't getting any younger, and she's never chosen an apprentice. Anitra could be just what Berk needs."
His mother nodded. "If you don't mind my asking, are your eyes green?"
"Yes, ma'am, they probably are."
"Probably? I could have sworn they were blue when we first met."
"They most likely were," Anitra nodded. "They change color from time to time."
"They do?" Fishlegs gasped. "That's awesome!"
"You like it?" she wondered. "It freaks some people out."
Fishlegs' father looked at his wife, and they both nodded. "Anitra, we'll have to talk to your parents to make an actual engagement, but as far as we're concerned, it's a match." Fishlegs and Anitra hugged in delight.
While all these joyous arrangements were being made, Hiccup and Astrid were sitting in a corner of the Mead Hall, discussing their fears.
"Do we really have anything to worry about?" she asked. "I mean, we're already happy with each other, aren't we?"
"I know I am," he nodded, "but Ruff's wish wasn't about 'happy.' It was about 'perfect,' and I know I'm not perfect."
"Nobody's perfect, Hiccup! I'm sure even our friends' marvelous new fiancées have some little habits that will drive Ruff and company crazy in small ways."
"I know," he nodded glumly, "but that won't be very reassuring if a perfect guy sails into the harbor tonight, looking for the pretty girl with the shoulder armor. What would you do if that happened?"
"What do you want me to say, Hiccup? What would you expect me to do?"
"Logically, you'd be crazy to give up a guy who's perfect so you can hang onto a guy who's just adequate," he sighed. "I wouldn't want you to be logical in that case, but... forgive me, but the idea makes me nervous."
"Well, what if a perfect girl sails into the harbor and asks for you?" she countered. "What would you do?"
"You've got no worries," he scoffed. "She'd take one look at me, say 'Oops, wrong island,' and head right back out to sea again."
"Hiccup, you're not that bad!"
"Maybe not, but I'm far from perfect, too," he replied, a bit sadly.
"What's your standard of perfection?" she demanded. "For instance, how am I not perfect for you?"
"Well... since you asked, I wish you wouldn't hit me so much. I could definitely live without the violence."
"I've told you before," she said patiently, "it's not violence, it's communication."
"Does your mother 'communicate' with your father that way?" he asked.
"She wouldn't dare! Most of the time, she doesn't have to."
"Doesn't that tell you something?" he inquired.
"It tells me that you're nothing like my dad, and I'm nothing like my mother," she said.
"It tells me that people can communicate without hitting each other," he retorted.
"So if a pretty girl sails into the harbor and says she'll never hit you, I should worry?" she asked.
"I'd rather you ease up on the violence, so you'd be perfect for me, and that imaginary girl would have nothing to offer me. Wouldn't that be good for both of us?" Hiccup was almost pleading.
Astrid wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were riveted on the harbor entrance. A ship from some other island was approaching Berk.
"I don't know if I want to find out who's on that ship," she finally said.
"What are you more afraid of?" Hiccup asked. "That it's a perfect girl for me, or that it's a perfect guy for you?"
"I really don't expect either one," she said, but she didn't sound very sure of herself.
"Me neither," he nodded. "So let's go greet whoever-it-is together, shall we? I'm sure my dad is busy, and somebody ought to meet them when they arrive."
She nodded reluctantly, and they walked down to the docks, side by side.
The ship was maneuvering for the inner docks, which meant it carried more cargo than passengers. In fact, only one passenger got off.
Astrid's face showed disbelief, which turned into shock, which morphed into rage for a moment before it finally settled on horror. She screamed one word – "NO!" – and turned and ran back up the ramps without another word. It looked to Hiccup like she might be very close to tears. That was something he'd never seen, and he didn't like it.
He turned back to the one passenger. "Uhh... it's nice to see you again, Heather."
"I'm glad to see you, too, Hiccup. What's with Astrid? She acts like she just saw a draugr. I might not be the prettiest girl in the Northland, but come on!"
"She probably thinks she just saw her own replacement," Hiccup began.
"Huh? How would that work?"
"How about you explain what you're doing here again, and then I'll take a stab at explaining some of the personal stuff?" he asked.
"Sure," she nodded. "My home island of Fedje is looking for new trading partners. Because my parents and I have already been to Berk, you're on our short list of possible customers. I got chosen to make the first contact because I know the most people here, including the son of the chief. The ship is full of samples of the kinds of things we'd like to trade, and I have a written list of the things we want in return. Could you take me to your leader?"
"Sure, if I can find him," Hiccup agreed. "He could be anywhere in Berk at this time of day. Let's go for a walk and see if anyone has seen him lately." She nodded and walked up the ramps beside him.
"You were saying, Astrid thinks I'm her replacement?"
"Okay, this is totally crazy, but here's the story. Ruffnut broke a wishbone with her brother the other day and won, and apparently, she wished that all the teens on the island would find their perfect matches within a week."
"So Astrid thinks I'm your perfect match?" Heather giggled. "How does she know I'm not Snotlout's perfect match, or Fishlegs', or Tuffnut's?"
"Because all three of them have already found their perfect match this week. So has Ruffnut." Heather's jaw dropped; Hiccup went on. "Astrid and I are the only teens on the island who haven't had an impossibly perfect stranger appear out of nowhere and fall in love with us this week. I thought she and I were a pretty good match, but she wasn't sure because of the wish, and when she saw you appear unannounced on the docks, she assumed the worst. Kind of silly, when you think about it, right?" He chuckled.
"Well, I don't know," Heather said thoughtfully. "You're the future chief of this village, you ride a Night Fury, you're kind and considerate and clever, I know you'd never beat me... My father says it's time I found a husband, and I could do a lot worse than you."
"Uhh... uhh... you're not serious, right?" he stammered. He considered her expression. "You're serious."
"Think it over, Hiccup," she purred. "You're about the right age to find a wife, aren't you? Chief's sons can't marry for love; they marry to forge alliances, especially with other tribes on other islands. I'm from another island. Maybe we could start a trading agreement and a marriage agreement at the same time, hmmm?" She batted her eyes at him.
"Uhhh... oh, there's my dad!" Hiccup exclaimed. "He just went into the Mead Hall!"
"I saw him," Heather nodded as she trotted off to find Stoick. "I'll catch up with you later! But think it over, Hiccup. You could do worse than a wife who's smart, pretty, quick-thinking... I'll have a nice dowry soon, if this trade agreement works... and I'd never hit you like Astrid does."
An axe between the eyes couldn't have stopped Hiccup in his tracks more abruptly than that last remark.