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Chapter 2

Returning and Leaving

The following day Astrid had everyone up at the break of dawn, and ordered them to forge for breakfast. She firmly inspecting everything found to make certain nothing was poisonous and when something turned up that was she taught the trainees on how to recognize it. When breakfast was over she set her students to work preparing shelters. These mostly consisted of digging holes without any proper tools and covering them with branches. As they did this Astrid prowled about like a wolf on the hunt.

"This one won't work," she told Ase flatly, "tell me why." Put on the spot, Ase panicked and could only shrug while her face turned bright red. "It's too unstable. If the weather turns stormy it will fall apart in minutes, and then you'll have to repair it in miserable conditions and risk getting sick from the cold and wet. Try again."

She left Ase when another girl standing nearby nervously came up to her and asked for her opinion on her own shelter. Astrid glanced at it and gave the same assessment she'd given Ase.

"But what if a storm doesn't come?" the girl asked,

"Always prepare for the worst," Astrid replied, "that way if it doesn't happen you'll be pleasantly surprised, and if it does you won't be surprised at all." She then went off to have a look at one of the older boys who was trying to dig in the dirt with his hands.

"Well how am I supposed to do it without a shovel or a pick?" he demanded angrily after she reprimanded him.

"Find a stone and tie it to a strong branch."

"And what am I supposed to tie it with?" he asked as if he had asked something that would stump her.

"Your boots have laces, don't they? Or you could use your belt. And if you don't have a belt or boots in the future, bark or long grasses would work well enough. If nothing else, you could just use the rock to dig with. It would go faster than by hand and there'd be less chance of your hands getting cut and infected."

With Astrid moving about in this fashion nobody dared to talk about the Dragon King: they eagerly wanted to, but were too worried Astrid would call on them to demonstrate something. Snotlout mostly spent this time tailing Astrid and giving out tips when needed, which Astrid often ordered her students to ignore. Fishlegs had been put in charge of serving as lookout and keeping watch on the emergency rations.

The remainder of the week passed with few incidents, save for Snotlout somehow lighting his pants on fire. There were no more events involving the Dragon King, but as soon as the ship returned all of the trainees were excitedly recounting their encounter with him to anyone who would listen, and continued to do so when they made it back to Berk.

Astrid reserved her description of the events for the Chief, while Fishlegs confined his account to his journals, which were crammed full with his observations on dragons and all he'd learned about the Dragon King. Snotlout, to no one's surprise, spun a story about his heroic standoff with the King and how the mere sight of him had scared the King's Night Fury to back down. Behind his back people suggested the true reason the dragon was scared off was due to Snotlout's attempt to grown facial hair.

As soon as they returned Astrid went to drop her bag off at home, where she was nearly smothered with hugs from her mother Greta and received a proud smile from her father Olaf, who then informed her that they had received a message from Chief Stoick that he wanted to see her at his house as soon as she'd returned. Always quick to obey the chief, Astrid was out the door and on her way to Stoick's house after spending less than three minutes at her own.

From the outside it was the most impressive building on the island. Built on a hillside overlooking the village, it seemed even taller than it really was, but it remained one of the taller homes. Its roof and walls contained many elaborate metal carvings and less elaborate wooden ones, for with the long years of dragon raids it was completely futile to make anything into a work of art if it was flammable. Still, the house looked beautifully built, with a nice color combination of greens, browns, dark reds, and black, and it looked very much like a place fit for a chief.

The inside was less impressive, though only a handful of people were aware of this. Stoick didn't get visitors very much: large meetings were typically held in Mead Hall, and when Stoick wanted to see an individual he preferred to call on them rather than summon them. Astrid herself had only been inside it twice before, and both times were simply to report to the chief when it just so happened that he was there. In general, he didn't like to be in his house much, as it contained too many sad memories for him. His wife Valka had been snatched by a dragon from inside their house, and it was a known fact that he'd hadn't gone into his son Hiccup's room since Hiccup had been taken by the Night Fury. Just about every object in his home had some connection to at least one member of his lost family, and there were many days, especially around the anniversaries of their deaths, where he couldn't bear the memories that were triggered by looking at them. As a result, the Haddock house was little more than a place for Stoick to sleep in.

Stoick let her in and showed her to a chair with a pleasant smile. She found it hard to believe that, even after all these years, she still couldn't help but feel a bit awed and intimidated to be in the presence of Chief Stoick the Vast. The years after Hiccup's death had not been very kind to the chief. While he was still plainly a tough fighter, it was equally clear his famous strength was going to seed. His reflexes were a bit slower than before, his muscles weren't as large as they were (though his arms when flexed were still the size of grapefruits), and his hair was starting to show bits of gray. Still, his gaze was as hard and clear as ever, and it was easily apparent that his mind was as sharp as ever, and he turned that gaze on her and made her feel as if he was staring into her very soul.

She quickly gave him a rundown of the events of the training week and her assessment of each student's performance.

"Overall, most of them did merely adequately," she concluded, "but they'll do better with more practice. I think I should take them out again in a week or two." She then told him about the encounter with the Dragon King. Stoick showed surprise at this and chuckled when she first mentioned it, and listened with great attention.

"So tell me, lass, what do you think about this Dragon King?" he asked when she had finished.

"I don't really know, Chief," Astrid mused, "we discussed this on this island after he'd left. All of my instincts say he couldn't possibly exist, but I've seen enough on two separate occasions to know that he must be real. But if he is real, what is he doing, what does he want, and is he a friend or foe to us?"

"Ah, that's the question, ain't it? That's the reason I sent for you, in fact. While you were gone I got a letter from Chief Gort of the Owl Gut Tribe, you remember him?" Here Stoick held up a piece of parchment. "In short: he's calling a meeting of all the Viking leaders to Owl Gut Island, where we'll discuss this Dragon King and decide just what's to be done about him."

"All the tribe leaders?"

"Yes, Lass, all of 'em, except for Alvin and his outcasts, of course," Alvin the Treacherous was the leader of the Outcast Tribe, but that tribe was not accepted by the other tribes, with the occasional exception of the Berserkers. "So you see, as you're the only person I know to see this man up close, I want ya to be at this council. Your story will be very interesting to the other chiefs, and I'm sure they'll want to hear this recent one too."

Astrid expressed doubt about this, as there wasn't much she could tell, but Stoick pointed out that it was still more that most others could tell about the King. Conceding this, Astrid asked when they would be leaving.

"We leave the morning after tomorrow. I'm sorry this is such short notice, but the letter came when you were gone, and I decided it would not be good for Berk to miss this. We've gotta take care of our reputation, after all."

"But the survival training, chief! If the trainees don't keep practicing they'll forget everything!"

"I agree, and I'll appoint someone to take care of it for this occasion. We have to see that our seasoned warriors practice the survival methods too."

The sense in this mollified Astrid, so she asked "Is anyone else coming?"

"Myself, my brother, enough Vikings to crew a boat, and your father."

"Not Snotlout?" Astrid said in surprise.

"No, and I'll tell you why, because it concerns you. You know that your father has been telling me for years that ye would make a good chief, and my brother has been saying the same about Snotlout. While the two of you were off training last week there wasn't a day when Olaf weren't singing your praises in one ear and filling the other with attacks against Snotlout, while Spitelout was doing the exact opposite. After Spitelout declared that his son would be a great chief if I only gave him the chance to prove it, I decided I would do just that. While we're at this meeting, Snotlout is going to be in charge of Berk. He'll be given all the powers that I have, though I've given Gobber orders to take over at once if any real emergency happens. I've also arranged with several Vikings to tell me exactly how Snotlout does as Berk's leader, when I return. Then, the next time I leave Berk, you will be the one left in charge, under the same conditions. When I return, I shall then determine who did a better job, and decide who shall succeed me."

As Astrid thought this over she raised concern that the Vikings would be impartial, as those who supported Snotlout would try to cover up or downplay any mistakes he might make.

"I thought of that, but I'm certain the Vikings I picked for this job will be fair enough. That's why your father and Spitelout are both coming on this trip. Speaking of which, we're leaving soon, so you should probably prepare. It's going to take at least a week to get there, and anything can happen when at sea for that long."

She left the Haddock house without showing the slightest emotion, but as soon as she was alone she broke into a broad smile.

"Be your normal self, Snotty, and you'll make me the chief of Berk," she said softly. She turned and saw her father approach her with a beaming smile on his face.

"Did Stoick tell you?" he asked, and after she nodded he gave her a fierce hug that nearly made her breathing difficult.

"This is it, Astrid! This is what we've been working for all these years! You just have to be yourself, and it won't be long before the Hoffersons are in charge of Berk! Without his father to guide him and make his decisions for him Snotlout is going to make a complete fool of himself! Nobody will be able to excuse his mistakes this time, and then they'll all see just how bad a chief he'd make and they'll be begging Stoick to name you as heir!" He hugged her even tighter, "I'm so proud of you, kid. You're going to make the Hofferson name prestigious again, and go down in Viking history as a great chieftain. It's all yours on a platter, Astrid, all you have to do is take it!"

Astrid felt her face go red.

"Now why don't we go tell your mother the great news and start packing?" Olaf finally let her go and they started walking home.

"This will be very interesting," her father remarked as they walked, "All the chiefs of the Archipelago gathered together to discuss the fate of one person. Of course, I imagine they'll start discussing other things, or more likely bicker about them."

"You really think so? I would have thought that, given how important this is, they'd put aside petty differences to discuss the common problem."

"The first rule of politics, lass, is people are always going to argue over the tiniest issues," Olaf laughed, "especially if Dagur the Deranged is there."

Even before Valka had died, Stoick had always eaten in Mead Hall. He had never really learned to cook (and as Chief he never had the time to prepare a proper meal), and had found eating among his villagers a good way to keep in touch with them. It also saved him the trouble of having to clean the kitchen after a long day, and he had long ago learned the hard way that when he tried to cook something, the kitchen always ended up requiring a lot of time and effort to clean.

"Of course, Val wasn't much of cook either," Stoick chuckled to himself, "those meatballs of hers…we could have tied strings to them and used 'em for bolas." He smiled sadly, "Val…"

When he entered the hall he joined his younger brother Spitelout at one table.

"So where's Snotlout tonight?" Stoick asked, trying to sound casual.

"I sent 'im to do his exercises. If 'e's going to be chief 'e'll need to be in good shape."

"Good, good. Even if he doesn't become chief, he'll be more useful to us if he's stronger."

Spitelout raised his eyebrows, "'If'?"

"Yes, 'if'. Ye already know my decision on that matter."

"Yes, and I still say the best solution would be to 'ave the two wed. And why not? Snotlout's been in love with Astrid since they were kids, and the 'offerson's would become part of the Chief's family. Everybody gets what they want."

"I'd agree, but Olaf made it very clear that we'll see Ragnarok before he lets your boy marry his daughter. Astrid's made it clear too, if those bruises on Snotlout's face meant anything."

"She just wants the chiefdom for 'erself." Spitelout growled, "She's reaching too 'igh, if you ask me,"

Stoick sighed, "I'm getting sick of these talks over who's gonna to be the next chief. It wasn't like this when dad was in charge."

"That's because everybody knew you were going to follow him, and I didn't 'ave any interest in competing with you over it." Spitelout grinned,

"You were too busy fighting and flirting," Stoick elbowed him,

"Oh, and you weren't?"

"Hah! Ah, those were good days, weren't they? Starting brawls to impress the girls…"

"Having contests to see who could kill the most dragons in a single raid…"

"Gobber had all his limbs, I remember,"

"And you were always trying to impress Valka, and usually ended up making a fool of yourself."

"I did not!" They were both laughing very heartily now, to the point where they couldn't eat.

"Of course," Spitelout's grin faded a little, "Valka was rather 'ard to impress wasn't she? I mean, your kill count after a raid never pleased her,"

"Aye," Stoick's grin faded entirely, "she was always convinced that we could end the war some other way,"

"I remember the time she punched Mildew for mocking her ideas," Spitelout said, trying to bring the conversation back to the lightheartedness it had had a few minutes before.

"Well, if those dragons would stop raiding us I'd be perfectly happy to leave 'em alone, but until they stop, what choice do we have but to defend ourselves?"

"Very true,"

"I mean, what do you do if ya find a nest of mice in your house? You get rid of it. It's the same thing with dragons." He took a large gulp of mead, "Granted, we haven't had many raids in the past 8 years,"

"Two, I think,"

"Aye and one of those was just a pair of Gronkles that happened to be flying o'er the island. And the other was a small flock of Nadders. They only took one sheep before we drove 'em off. That was a skirmish, not a real raid. I didn't even get the chance to swing me hammer."

"Still, we 'ave to stay alert."

"Agreed. It's only the calm before the next storm. This war's been going on for far too long for us to hope that it would just stop for no reason."

Spitelout nodded grimly.

"And yet," Stoick went on, "how can we train new recruits to fight dragons when we don't have any locked up?"

"I don't know. Come to think of it, I don't believe we've used those cages since…"

"Since Hiccup died," Stoick said shortly. He put his head in his hands, "and now there's this meeting with this Dragon King. Thor knows what will come of that…I tell ya, Spitelout, there are times when I wish things were simple again. Like they were when I had settled into my role as chief, had a beautiful wife and was expecting our first child…those were probably the happiest days of my life…and then she was taken, and I had to raise Hiccup alone, and he was such a handful…then right when he finally was showing promise, he got taken too…" he took another large gulp of mead and slammed his goblet onto the table, "what did I do to make the Gods punish me so?"

Spitelout had no answer. Nobody did. In fact, Spitelout felt sorrier about Stoick losing Valka than in losing Hiccup, in part because he had lost his own wife nearly ten years ago to illness. Besides, he had liked Valka. She'd had some strange ideas about dragons, but she'd also had a sense of humor and was a tough fighter when she needed to be. Hiccup, on the other hand, had been small, frail, and pathetic when it came to fighting. Once Spitelout had realized how superior his son was physically compared to Hiccup, Spitelout knew that his son might become the chief, which made Hiccup a threat to his ambitions. This had increased his dislike for the boy over the years, though he had never really wanted Hiccup dead—or at least he didn't want to be the one to do the deed. He had always just hoped some accident might befall Hiccup (which wasn't too much to ask for, as Hiccup had often caused accidents when he was alive), or maybe Stoick might just pick Snotlout regardless of whether Hiccup was alive or not. And then as soon as Hiccup was gone, Astrid Hofferson suddenly became a contender for the chiefdom, and he couldn't hope Astrid would meet a similar fate. It seemed a miracle to some that Hiccup had survived as long as he had, but Astrid was much tougher.

"So," Stoick said at last, "going back to your son…tell me honestly, brother: do you really think he is ready to be chief? If I were to die tonight, would Snotlout be able to assume the position tomorrow morning?"

Spitelout considered his answer. He knew perfectly well his son wasn't ready to be chief. Snotlout was very keen to be chief, but he spent too much time trying to flirt with Astrid or show off to anyone present, or causing mischief with the Thorsten Twins. Spitelout had tried for a long time to get Snotlout to focus more, but Snotlout had responded by staying out of the house as much as possible. Spitelout tried to pass it off as youthful energy, even though Snotlout wasn't exactly a child anymore. Still, Spitelout and Stoick had both been hot blooded and irresponsible when they were younger, but they had matured when the time came and he hoped and prayed that Snotlout would too. He would have to if he truly wanted to be chief, otherwise Astrid was certain to get the position.

He finally sighed.

"No. He's not ready. 'e's…well, 'e's not ready yet, but 'e will be!" he added quickly, "I mean ya can't master somethin' as important as leadership in a single day! It takes time, 'ard work, and effort. Just give 'im a chance and a bit of patience, and 'e'll be ready soon enough, I promise you!"

"Which is exactly why I'm leaving him in charge while we're gone," Stoick said patiently,

"And 'ow can you be certain the villagers won't tell you a bunch of lies about 'im when we get back?" Spitelout demanded,

"That might happen, but I'm certain I picked the right people for the job. Though, you know, I could choose someone else to follow me,"

"Like who? Most of the people 'ere are either way too young or nearly as old as we are."

That was one of the reasons for the problems Berk was facing. Around 30 years ago there had been an increase in dragon raids, which resulted in a high mortality rate, especially among infants, and a low birth rate. It had subsided after about five years, but because of this the generation that Astrid and Snotlout belonged to hadn't been very large. That was a key reason for why Stoick was trying to decide between the two of them: nobody else on Berk was old enough to have leadership experience and young enough to be sure to live another couple decades. That left Stoick with about 10 people for options, and out of those 10 only 3 people came to mind: Astrid, who had so far proven to be the best warrior and a firm leader, Snotlout, mostly by virtue of his birth but he had also proven to be a strong fighter, and Fishlegs, who was not much of a fighter or a leader but was probably the most intelligent of the three.

Stoick drained his goblet and stood up. "Well, we shall see what happens when we return, brother. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow getting the ships loaded and organized. Can I count on your help?"

"Always."

"Then let's get some rest. It might be the last good night's sleep we get until we reach Owl Gut Island."

"I know what ya mean," Spitelout said as they exited Mead Hall, "I can never get to sleep when the boat's rocking."