Chapter 5

Some Decisions Are Made

They had returned to Berk the day before, and Stoick had summoned everyone to a mass meeting in Mead Hall. Not one villager wasn't amazed at the story he told them. Most were shocked that the King, who had remained secretive for so long, had come in person, and an equal number were outraged about the idea of making peace with dragons in a way that did not include the extinction of the species.

"He wants us to stop killing them!"

"He claims islands for them!"

"He lives with demons!"

"He's a demon himself!"

This kind of talk had begun during the meeting and had not stopped, though the meeting had broken up the day before. It wasn't the only subject of conversation, however. The delegates had returned to be told about in their absence Spitelout's house had been robbed.

Snotlout informed Stoick and his father that somebody had broken into his house while he was off doing his chiefly duties and made off with a substancial amount from the money chest. Not long afterwards the Twins had been seen firing a bag from a catapult into the ocean.

The Twins were immediately questioned by Stoick. They gleefully confessed to firing a bag of money away, and explained that they had just wanted to see if would have made a bigger splash than a rock of the same size would. However, they insisted they had not stolen it. The bag had been left in front of their homes one morning with a note that read "I wonder how big a splash this will make." When asked where the note was, they admitted it had disappeared.

The Twins claimed they had no idea who was behind this but thought it was probably the Dragon King. Nobody else felt any reason to believe them, even their infirm parents. After all, they were notorious on Berk for being the biggest troublemakers, the chief cause of destruction apart from dragons, and devoted lovers of anything dangerous or harmful. Had they not nearly blown up Stoick's house a few weeks before? Spitelout had been visibly trembling with rage when he had learned of this, and might have murdered those two if there hadn't been witnesses present.

Remarkably, that had been about the only thing to go wrong during Stoick's absence, and for the rest of the village it became overshadowed by discussions of the Dragon King's visit.

"I can't figure out how he did it," Snotlout said loudly as he and Fishlegs walked to Mead Hall to get some food, "how has he been able to spy on us?"

"Well, he's got Thor knows how many dragons at his disposal, and not all of them are larger than storage sheds. The Fireworm and the Terrible Terror are just two species which could easily hide out in a village without being noticed."

Snotlout could not think of a way to answer this. After a moment's thought he decalred "well if I ever get my hands on one of those spies, it'll never bring another message back to him. I'll rip it to shreds and send the demon lover it's torn up wings and hang the head on my wall! I'll show him my raw Viking prowess and beat him to a pulp!"

Once inside the hall they were joined by the Thorsten Twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who did not seem in the least bit distressed by the fact that they had just been convicted of robbery.

"So did you hear the news?" Tuffnut asked eagerly, "the Dragon King came to the chief's meeting!"

"Tuff, that's what everyone was told yesterday," Fishlegs said, rolling his eyes.

"We were?"

"Yes, idiot!" his sister Ruffnut said,

"Idiot yourself!"

"Idiot yourself again!"

"Idiot yourself again again!"

"Idiot yourself again infinity!"

"Say that to my butt, fist-elf!"

"Say that to my fist, butt-elf!"

"That's what I said! You're stealing my catchphrases—whatever that means—why I'll—" But Ruffnut slugged him in the mouth and the two went down on the floor wrestling. Snotlout went back to his food, trying to ignore them, until one of them unintentionally hit him in the back, and without hesitation he joined in the scuffle.

As the three of them rolled around on the floor shouting all sorts of names at each other Fishlegs stood up and headed for the door, muttering something about eating outside. As soon as he was outside, however, two men placed themselves right in front of him and blocked his way.

"Where ya goin', Fishy?" the taller one named Dogsbreath leered.

"Um—home?" Fishlegs suggested.

"That's a pretty nice looking lunch ya got there, Fishy," the other one, named Hognose, commented.

"Yes, and there are a lot more just like it over there, so why don't you go get some and let me enjoy mine?" Fishlegs said quickly.

"Oh, but we want yers," Dogsbreath snickered, "after all, we're friends, right?"

"An friends don't let their friends starve now, do they?" Hognose added,

"Or do things that deserve a good punch in the face,"

"And don't think yer safe because such a punch would make ya drop the food on the ground,"

"Coz we wouldn't punch ya now,"

"We'd come after ya some night when nobody's around to 'elp ya,"

"Then give ya a good bruisin' like we used to do to Useless,"

"But since we're friends, we'll be nice to ya. For 10 pieces o' silver, ya can keep yer lunch and not get a beatin'—this week."

Fishlegs sighed, feeling there was no way out of this one. He knew the two wouldn't beat him up here, but they could easily come after him later. He could do his utmost to avoid them, but sooner or later they'd get him, and the longer it took the worse the beating would be. He could complain about it later to his parents or the Chief, but they had all heard those complaints before, especially when Hiccup was alive, and the Chief would probably just tell him that a true Viking should be able to defend himself. Besides, they'd probably beat him up in revenge later. No punishments had ever seemed to any effect on the two or lessened their delight in making those younger than them miserable. So he gave them the money and walked away.

He walked along feeling miserable and wondering why he still put up with those two. He was 23 for Odin's sake, and they were only a year older! They weren't exactly kids anymore! He wondered if this was how Hiccup had often felt when he had been alive, and decided Hiccup had probably felt even worse. At least he had some friends who he could talk to, and he knew that his family would help him if he asked (though in this instance he knew it would not do him any good). Hiccup, on the other hand, had been friendless since before he was 10 years old, and his father had begun to neglect him long before that. In fact, Fishlegs could barely recall seeing Stoick showing any real affection for Hiccup, at least in public.

He remembered the days when they had been friends, running through the woods trying to hunt for trolls, which they both insisted were real, building forts and having pinecone wars, climbing trees, playing games with the others, or trying to wrestle with each other, or fight with toy swords. That had been a long time ago, of course, and things had changed.

He sighed, and his thoughts turned back to his current dilemma. As he often did when faced with a problem, Fishlegs analyzed the situation with a detached, unemotional, and logical mindset. He concluded that the problem was simply a physical one. Dogsbreath and Hognose together were too strong for him to fight by himself, and they were aware of that. If they wanted something they could simply use force to obtain it or, if he stood up to them, they could use force to punish him. It had been that way ever since they were children, and as a result those two had long been in the habit of using force to get what they wanted, which nowadays was money. When they were younger they had often just bullied for the fun of it, but once they had gotten older they were constantly in debt from gambling, so, being against working unless forced to, they usually resorted to getting it by threat. For a long time Hiccup had been the main target for their bullying, simply because he was so physically frail he made the easiest target and couldn't do anything about it.

Fishlegs had been a target as well, and to save himself he started hanging out with Snotlout more often. Dogsbreath and Hognose had seldom targeted him, mostly because even back then they had expected him to be the next chief and were anxious to please him. Snotlout, for his part, had then and still idolized them. So since Fishlegs couldn't beat the enemy, he joined them. It was a perfectly rational decision, and perhaps the one he regretted the most.

How many times had it hurt him to watch them punch Hiccup in the face, or tie him to a tree, or just taunt him with horrible words while he walked through the village, clearly trying not to react, Fishlegs had long ago lost count. He'd never actually taken part in hurting Hiccup, but he hadn't done anything to stop it either, so that wasn't much consolation. And from a selfish point of view, abandoning his best friend to their tormentors had been all for nothing. Once Hiccup had died, the favorite punching bag was gone, and Fishlegs became once again the main target. Granted, Snotlout didn't bully him much. Snotlout had become increasingly obsessed with Astrid, the chiefdom, and showing off, so bullying or extortion wasn't high on his priority list anymore. Perhaps, Fishlegs mused, Snotlout had matured in some ways.

Once again he sighed and his thoughts returned to his current dilemma. He knew what the problem was, and knew there were about only two permanent solutions to it: he could muscle up so that he would be the physically intimidating one, a solution he had attempted before many times with minimal success, or he could find some way to get those two exiled or thrown in jail for life. Such sentences were for only extreme law violations, however, and he knew Dogsbreath and Hognose had the brains not to go that far, at least not yet anyway. He decided his only possible solution at the moment was to just forget about it, to avoid them as much as possible, and go find something to read. It was just possible, he told himself as an afterthought, that if Astrid succeeded Stoick she would banish those two. He pictured what their expressions would be like when that sentence was being announced, and felt a lot better.

Stoick was having lunch with Gobber the blacksmith in the forge. Gobber was a short and squat man with a long blond moustache. Years ago he had lost a leg and an arm at different times to dragon. Now he hobbled about on a metal peg leg and had built for himself a fake arm with interchangeable hand parts capable of doing a variety of tasks. Among other things, for blacksmithing he had a piece with a hammer attached to it, for fighting he'd built a hand with an axe attached to it, and for meals he had arm which had a mug connected to it, which he now took a big gulp from, only to drop one of his fake stone teeth into it. He'd lost a few teeth when a dragon tail had got him in the mouth.

"So," Stoick said as they ate, "how did Snotlout do?"

"Well, aside from the robbery, 'e' did pretty well, Stoick,"

"That's what everyone's been saying. They're saying that Mildew was almost pleasant and the twins didn't destroy anything—aside from my brother's money chest," a dark look came into his eyes.

"There's no chance o' recoverin' the money, I'm afraid. It's at the bottom o' the sea now."

"I just don't get it. Those two have never been interested in money before, why should they be interested now? I'm more surprised that it wasn't Hognose or Dogsbreath: I hear they're always losing money gambling. I've been wondering where they keep getting the money for those bets. I know they don't steal it. And why should Ruffnut and Tuffnut rob Spitelout to get it? Wouldn't it be easier to steal from their parents?" The Thorsten parents were both rather sickly these days and had little control over their children. Some suspected that the Twins themselves were the reason their parents were constantly in poor health.

"These are the Twins yer talkin' about Stoick. Since when do they do things the easy way? As fer Dog and Hog, ah don't know wat they do. So, what's the punishment fer the twins gonna be?"

"They'll be doing whatever work Spitelout wants until the money has been paid back. That'll probably take a month or more." He sighed, "And nothing else went wrong? Snotlout handled himself properly?"

"Well, he didn't drop the ego and expected ev'ry person 'ere to call 'im all kinds o' big fancy titles, which ah donna think he actually knew the meanings fer, ah think Fishlegs suggested them, but aside fer all that, he ran things decently enough. Or maybe ev'ryone jest went about their routines like always."

"Still, I'm glad to hear this. It seems Spitelout was right about giving him a chance. Of course, Astrid must have a turn before I decide anything."

"Wat reason will you 'ave for bein' away this time?"

"Oh something will come up. There's always some diplomacy to take care of, and I'm sure the other chiefs will want to talk more about this Dragon King. Speaking of which, what do you think about this man and his terms?"

"'Onestly, Chief, I'd take 'em. If it means no more death or destruction because o' dragons, I'd call it a fair price to pay. Let 'im take his islands and keep 'is dragon friends, and if 'e leaves us alone, that's fine with me. Wat do ye think about it?"

Stoick's eyes glinted. "That man rides the dragon that killed Hiccup."

"Are ye sure 'bout that?"

"We know it was a Night Fury that carried Hiccup off, and he said so himself he's never seen another Night Fury."

"Hmm. O' course, 'e might not know that it took the lad. It might've taken 'im before the King tamed it."

"Or maybe he ordered it to take him. Maybe Hiccup has been that man's prisoner for 8 years."

"Why would 'e keep 'Iccup a prisoner for tha long?"

"I don't know."

"And if 'e did take the boy prisoner, why 'aven't we 'eard about it? Stoick, I know yer tryin' to stay 'opeful, but I jest donna see 'ow 'Iccup could still be alive."

When Hiccup had been abducted, Stoick had clung to a faint hope that maybe Hiccup had found a way to free himself from the dragon. Perhaps the boy had fought back or pulled some trick to get it to drop him. Of course, there were plenty of objections to these hopes. If the dragon had dropped him while flying over land, Hiccup would surely have been killed when he hit the ground. If they had been over the sea, Hiccup might have survived the fall, but unless he had fallen near land he would have drowned. Stoick didn't know how good of a swimmer Hiccup had been. Then, assuming the dragon had dropped Hiccup into the sea yet near enough to swim for shore, why hadn't Hiccup returned yet? If the land had been inhabited, either the chief there would have sent Hiccup back, either out of goodness or to claim a reward. If it had been an island inhabited by enemies, like the Outcasts, they would have held Hiccup as a hostage and probably sent a ransom demand.

Either way, Berk would have heard about it. And if Hiccup had made it to shore somewhere but had no means of returning, that meant that the island would have to be deserted, and Stoick highly doubted Hiccup could survive on his own in the wild for that long. It was also crazy to assume Hiccup had been kept alive by the dragon for some reason. He had held all his life that Dragons always went for the kill, so there was no reason for a dragon to keep the boy alive for 8 years. But if Hiccup had been held prisoner by the Dragon King…it was a long shot with a lot of unexplainable questions and Stoick knew it, but he had a sliver of hope in him that refused to die out. What occupied his thoughts more, however, was the Night Fury. Stoick had no doubts that it was his son's abductor, and if he couldn't save his son, he could at least avenge him.

Ever since Valka had been taken he had sworn vengeance on the dragon that had taken her. That particular dragon, however, had never been seen since that night. It was unmistakable, as it had had four wings. Its absence had been maddening for Stoick, for he'd had to endure the loss of his wife and couldn't even avenge her. It had been the same when Hiccup had first vanished, until Stoick had heard about the black dragon the King rode upon. He had long suspected it was a Night Fury, perhaps the Night Fury, given their rarity, and now he'd been told what he considered the final proof. Anger burned in his chest when he thought about it. That Dragon seemed to symbolize everything he hated about dragons and had lost to them, and he promised himself he would kill it. To do that, however, he would have to get close to the beast, and Stoick already had an idea of how he might do that. But first he'd have to learn more about the creature's master.

"I don't know why he'd do that, but we're going to find out soon enough. I'm calling another meeting tomorrow morning."

That evening Snotlout, covered in bruises thanks to Ruffnut and Tuffnut, made his way out of the village eastwards. He'd told his father he was going out to exercise, and he was glad to get away, for Spitelout was in a horrible mood about the robbery and ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

The clouds covered the moon, so it was promising to be a grim and gloomy night. The trees were nothing more than black figures against a dark mauve colored sky, and their trunks were indistinguishable from the ground. A deer could have walked within 20 feet of him and Snotlout would never have seen it. Such darkness suited Snotlout, as he did not want to be seen at the moment. His destination was not popular with most villagers, and he knew it might look bad if he was seen going to it. Besides, he rather liked the idea of sneaking somewhere in a secretive fashion and felt it would spoil the fun if people knew about it.

Sometimes on nights like this he imagined he was a spy or an assassin, stealthily moving like a shadow, unseen and unheard, until it was too late for his prey. The barbarity of such thoughts thrilled and excited him. Though he actually was not that stealthy, being rather large and noisy, he flattered himself that he'd be perfect for such a job. He knew that people like Stoick and Astrid would be disgusted with the idea, as they would see such a job as dishonorable and unfaithful to the way of a True Viking, but he didn't worry too much about that. Sometimes he thought the Viking way was too tame: it seemed to focus too much on honor and codes of civilized warfare. For Snotlout, results were what mattered, not the means.

He climbed a hill and saw an old ramshackle house before him that seemed practically deserted. Before it was a large field of full of cabbages and before the field was a thick wooden fence which surrounded the entire area.

"It looks more like a stockade than a house," Snotlout commented to himself. He didn't know what the word 'stockade' meant. Fishlegs had used it before when describing something about 'forts.' He hadn't paid much attention. He found it to tiresome to focus on what Fishlegs talked about. Much of what he said went in one ear and out the other.

He softy knocked three times on the door. It was opened by a tall thin elderly man with a gnarly, sneering face. Everything about him seemed odious, twisted, and unpleasant, from his rotted teeth to his cut up and dirty fingernails. His name was Mildew, and the only real reasons he was allowed to remain on Berk were because of his cabbages and his skill as a dragon killer. He was also renowned for his ability to always find something to complain about. Because of this and his unpleasant personality he was forced to live a good distance away from the rest of the village. His only true friend was his pet sheep Fungus, though he had been a companion and mentor for some of the younger folks, namely Dogsbreath and Hognose, who Snotlout could see were seated inside next to a pathetic and dying fire. They bowed as he came in and whispered "My Chief" as he sat down. Mildew closed the door and took a seat so that he was facing the three boys. The dying fire was the only light in the filthy room, but there was just enough light to see everyone's face.

Snotlout was going to begin this little meeting, as it seemed proper to him that he should be the one to do so, but Mildew beat him to the punch.

"So, we're all 'ere, so it's down to business…"

Snotlout looked at him miffed, but Mildew ignored it.

"We've got Snotlout 'ere in the good books of Stoick…"

"Yes, we've given me a good start, but I'm not chief yet." Snotlout said impatiently, "what can we do next?"

"We make life miserable for Astrid when it's 'er turn," grinned Dogsbreath,

"Do exactly to 'er what we didn't do to you," added Hognose, "we run this place to the ground so much they'll be beggin' you fix things!"

Snotlout smiled and bowed his head pompously. Then, as if on cue, they all turned to look at Mildew for advice.

"It's a good start," he grinned, "but yer right, lad, ye ain't chief yet. And while ah do like the ider of makin' miss 'Offerson miserable, we need somethin' more than that. And ah will be needin' a bit more in silver for ma services, if ya don't mind,"

"Me too,"

"And me, Snotlout,"

"I already gave you guys a bunch of money. Wasn't that enough?" Snotlout demanded.

"It's never enough, boy," growled Mildew, "there's no sich thing as enough money,"

"And if ya don't give us our share, we could always tell Stoick about ya…"

"And what ya did to yer father's money chest when they was gone…"

"Let's not talk about that right now. You'll all be paid in full when I'm chief, don't worry," he promised. He'd work out how to keep the promise later. "But first I need to get the title. How am I going to do it?"

"We could get Astrid to join yer side" suggested Dogsbreath, "or get 'er to back off,"

"Why not just marry the girl?" demanded Hognose impatiently, "that's what ya want, ain't it?"

"I've been trying to do those things for years. Nothing's worked!"

"We could try somethin'. Supposin' we attacked 'er or somethin,' and then you came to save 'er. She'd be beggin' ya to kiss 'er after that, ah guarantee it."

"Worth a shot," Mildew mused, "and if it don't work, ya scare 'er 'til she backs down."

"Do you think that will work?" Snotlout asked anxiously,

"Women are wimps, boy. They talk tough and act tough, gettin' above their station and all that, it's disgustin', but they're 'elpless if ya play the right cards. Pity other folks 'ere don't seem to know that. The ider of a woman bein' chief, that jest makes me blood boil. It ain't right; Odin says so 'imself."

"And are you guys willing to attack Astrid?" Snotlout asked,

"Jess tell us where an when,"

"Well, let me think a minute,"

"How 'bout tomorrow evenin'?" Mildew suggested,

"Well I suppose…She always is training in the woods after dinner…and if I could impress her enough she might finally come around…"

"Perfect," grinned Hognose,

"Nothing too extreme, of course," Snotlout added quickly,

"Of course," Dogsbreath assured him. If Snotlout could read minds, he would have found that Dogsbreath was imaging Astrid helpless in his grip as he pulled her clothes off.

"An' if nothin' else, it'll make ya look good to others," Mildew cut in, "but ah think we need an ace in the 'ole of some kind. Like that Dragon man."

"What about him?"

"Well, supposin' you killed 'im? Kill 'im, and then yer a hero fer life,"

"Well—"

"And if ya can take control of 'is dragons, ye could conquer the entire archilpegli—archilpelli—ye could conquer this tribe and ev'ry tribe out there. Ye could conquer the world!"

"I thought you didn't like dragons!" Snotlout said in surprise.

"Ah don't. But, I'm willin' ta let ya enslave 'em. Take 'em, make their lives rough, make 'em work, fight, enforce yer will, and punish those 'oo resist yer will." In fact, Mildew said this only to fuel Snotlout's desires. He had no desire to live with dragons even as slaves.

"But—about Astrid—suppose she rats on us?"

"She won't—if she ain't grateful to ya, she'll be too scared and ashamed to mention it to anyone,"

"An' if she does, we'll be the ones 'oo get in trouble, not you, me chief,"

"And there ain't a thing they can do to us that we can't handle,"

"So," Mildew said, "are we agreed, Snotlout? Fer a very small fee, the boys 'ere will get Astrid in a spot so ya can save 'er, and then when ya get the chance, ya kill the Demon Sorcerer and take control of 'is beasts. Then the four of us will lead the way to enslavin' all dragons and takin' the werld. What d'ya say to that?"

"Well just a minute, I've got to think about it first."

"Then think 'bout this: it's either 'er in charge, or ye. Stick with us and it'll be ye. If ya don't, there's nobody 'ere on this island 'oo'll 'elp ya become Chief Snotlout. Ah can see ya like bein' called that. Do as we—adwise—and that title is all yers."

"And so is Astrid," Dogsbreath hinted,

"Coz even if ya don't get 'er tomorrow night, once yer chief, she'll 'ave to obey yer orders,"

"'Specially if ya got a bunch of dragons to back 'em up."

Snotlout looked about the room. 'It's the results that matter,' he told himself, 'not the means.' His dad had sometimes told him that. He took a deep breath.

"How much will I owe you guys?"

The next morning all of Berk was gathered in Mead Hall.

"Well, you all know what's going on," Stoick announced, "now here's what I think we should do about it. As I said yesterday, we don't know what we are up against anymore, and we don't know if anything this man says is true, so here's what we're gonna do about it. I have here there location of where this nest is, as well as the location of the nest we've been searching for all these years. As for the second nest, I will take a large party there, and we shall see if it has been abandoned or not. As for the first, I will send ambassadors there on a mission of diplomacy."

He paused to let the murmurs subside. "Given how this task means going to an island which we know nothing about, I will only take volunteers. Before anyone offers, I want it clearly understood that it could very well be dangerous and possibly fatal. I am not saying that to scare anyone, but to make you all think clearly. Whoever goes will be on an island probably full of dragons and cut off from any assistance. If anything goes wrong they will be on their own. I repeat, whoever goes will be on their own." He paused again to let his words sink in. "So, are there any volunteers now?"

All heads looked around questioningly. Snotlout glanced at his father, whose face remained blank. He considered the idea. Volunteering would certainly look brave in Stoick's eyes, but at the same time, the idea of going to this unknown island alone did not appeal to Snotlout one bit. Snotlout also didn't like the idea of playing a diplomat, for he saw it as stupid and pointless: he'd rather fight it out than try to talk. But yet again, if he volunteered and returned successful, it might be what made him chief. At this thought he very slowly and hesitantly began to raise his hand, but it had not even passed his shoulders when Astrid stood up.

"Chief, I volunteer," she said.

"Chief, a word please?"

Stoic wasn't very happy about being called away from getting the ships fitted out, so he gave only the shortest grunt to Olaf and the two went a little ways down the dock.

"Make this fast, Olaf, we've got a lot to do."

"Well, I thought, since Astrid has volunteered for this possibly fatal mission, I would like to ask what will happen if she comes back?"

Stoick eyed Olaf and understood.

"You want me to name her my successor if she returns."

"Yes,"

"Even though I already said—"

"Chief, I know what you said, but that was before this came up. My daughter has just volunteered to do another dangerous job for you and her tribe. She's about to do something nobody else was willing to do and I'd say becoming your heir would be the only just reward for all of her help and bravery."

Stoick turned away from him to consider.

"Chief, she's the obvious choice to succeed you. I mean, do you really think Snotlout would make that great a chief?"

"He did pretty well when I was gone…"

"So he maintained the status quo for a few uneventful weeks. That hardly qualifies him to lead Berk."

"And volunteering to go to a dragon infested island does?" Stoick retorted. He held up a hand when Olaf began to respond. "Olaf, this has gone on long enough,"

"Yes it has, and it would all stop if you would just name Astrid as your successor! I ask again, Stoick, who else on Berk is young and competent enough?"

Stoick again held up a hand for silence and Olaf decided it would be sensible to heed it.

"This is not the time to discuss this. That will come when both expeditions have returned."

Olaf nodded reluctantly.

"That being said, I think Astrid has made either a brave or foolish decision, and I will not name a person chief just for that reason. But…well, it will depend on what news she brings us if she returns,"

"And suppose she does return and proves to be skilled at diplomacy?" Olaf pressed. At that moment a sailor came over to ask Stoick a question of storage space on one vessel, and Stoick walked away to look into it. Before he did, however, he put a hand on Olaf's shoulder reassuringly, and Olaf couldn't help but feel in that reassurance that the Chief would choose Astrid. Provided she did well on this mission.

Astrid herself was busy doing what she usually did when she had time to spare: axe throwing. It was a way to release her stress and a way to ensure her throwing abilities remained in top shape. There was a grove of trees in one section of the forest, and each one had a countless amount of cuts on its trunk, all because of her practicing over the years. On two separate occasions she had even managed to get a tree to fall down after years of its trunk being cut away bit by bit, a fact she was rather proud of.

Often times when she was axe throwing she imagined the target was someone or something she didn't like, typically Snotlout's nose or the Flightmare. The ghostlike Flightmare dragon was one of the most feared dragons on Berk, after the Night Fury. It only came to Berk once every ten years, coinciding with Aurvindil's Fire, and due to its terrifying roar and appearance, nobody dared venture outside. When Astrid was about 5 her favorite and only uncle, Fearless Finn Hofferson, one of the bravest and toughest men on Berk in generations, had decided to fight the creature. As he attacked he froze up, allowing the dragon an easy chance to kill him. Most believed that he had been paralyzed with fear, and ever since that day the Hofferson's had had a stain on their reputation. Those who did not like the family had used this to mock them, a fact Astrid deeply resented. She never believed her Uncle had frozen with fear, but had no way to disprove it. Consequently she had often dreamed of finishing off that menace, but for the moment all she could do was prepare and pretend the tree she was destroying was the Flightmare. She had missed its last appearance some 8 years ago because she had been involved in the fruitless searches of the Chief's son.

With a scream she raised her axe, aimed for a particular piece of bark on a tree some distance away, and flung the weapon at it with terrific velocity and complete accuracy. Without pausing she wrenched it from the trunk, spun around, and aimed for another spot. She typically repeated this exercise until her axe grew too dull, which could take a couple of hours. She had the time, as she'd already packed most of her gear, the ships would not leave for a few days, and Stoick had exempted her from any village duties.

The shadows were growing longer every minute as sunset approached. The clouds were turning a mixture of orange and red, and here and there golden sunlight poked through the branches of the trees, a sharp contrast to the spots where it couldn't reach, which were a deep and cold blue. Astrid, however, paid no attention to the beauty of her surroundings. Her workout was her sole focus until she heard suddenly the snap of a twig, and threw her axe in the direction of the noise, missing Dogsbreath's head by mere inches and making him scream.

"What was that for?" he shouted once he had calmed down. "Ya coulda killed me, woman!"

"Do you think I would have missed if I'd meant to kill you?" Astrid replied coldly, "and what's the idea of sneaking up on me? What do you want?" She held her axe in such a threatening manner that Dogsbreath put his hands up.

"Hey, take it easy!"

"Tell me what you want or go away." Astrid snapped. Between training and talking to Dogsbreath, she'd choose the former under any circumstances.

"'Ooever said I wanted anythin'?"

"Why else would you be here?"

"Well, it jess so 'appens that I do want somethin'. I come on behaff of ma good friend Snotty."

"Well?"

"Well, ya see, missy, my friend Snotty is gonna be the next chief. Me and ma friends will be seein' to that, so I'm come to tell ya to back off."

Astrid smiled slightly. "You can tell Snotlout to forget it."

"Yer only makin' this worse for yerself, missy. Me and ma friends 'ave been playin' nice so far, but that's over now."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, rilly. Soon yer gonna be frozen with fear like yer Fearful Finn was!"

That hit a nerve with her and Dogsbreath knew it. Her next words were said with a growl that would have made a more sensible man step back.

"And just what are you and your friends going to do if I don't 'back off'?"

Dogsbreath, not being a more sensible man, stepped forward.

"Somethin' I've been wantin' to do fer years now." He gave a smile that was so lecherous that Astrid instantly understood what he meant.

"Just try and touch me," she growled, "I dare you."

"Gladly!"

Snotlout was slowly walking up towards the spot where Astrid was training. "Dogsbreath should be there by now," he said to himself, "and soon I'll be hearing her crying for help, and then I'll be there, just in the nick of time to 'save' her and sweep her off her feet with my awesome raw Vikingness. What can possibly go wrong? Let's see, how should I announce my presence when I arrive?" He began trying all kinds of phrases that sounded heroic to him. "Fear not, my fair Astrid, I have come to save thee…nah, how about…Dogsbreath, depart from demonizing the dear and docile damsel directly or dare my distinctly dangerous and destructive demeanor…nah, that's too much like something Fishy would say. Come to think of it, what's demeanor mean, anyway? Oh never mind, how about a war cry like…what's that?"

Those last two words were not the war cry he had in mind, but were a reaction to a squealing sound that did not sound at all like Astrid.

"Still, the fair damsel needs her manly Snotlout to come to her aid! I come, lovely Astrid!" Snotlout declared as he raised his hammer in a triumphant pose and dashed uphill.

"I have come, lovely As—trid?" he looked around but didn't see her. Instead he saw Dogsbreath laying in a pile of leaves and groaning loudly.

"Dogsbreath! Er—what happened to Astrid?"

"That woman's a monster! A maniac!" Snotlout got a better look at his friend and saw he had several bruises and a black eye forming, as well a bloody nose.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell ya what 'appened, she tried ta murder me!" he cried hysterically, "I jess tried ta slap 'er or somethin' jess to scare 'er a bit, an' she nearly kills me!"

Snotlout looked appalled. "You mean instead of attacking her so I could come to her rescue, she attacked you?"

"That's what I jess said, didn't I? She nearly killed me!"

"But I thought—I—" Snotlout just didn't know how to respond to his plan failing so abruptly.

"I don't care what ya thought, she nearly killed me!"

"But she was supposed to—"

"She nearly killed me!"

"Dogsbreath—"

"She nearly killed me! She nearly—"

"OH SHUT UP!" Snotlout shouted in exasperation, "She didn't kill you, so suck it up! Honestly, you're whining more than Useless did!"

Dogsbreath leapt to his feet. "Don't ya dare compare me to that fishbone, Snotty! I gave 'im many a big bruise and I can do the same to ya!"

"And when I'm chief what's to stop me from sentencing you to the Blood Eagle?" Snotlout replied loudly.

"If ya become chief at all! That girl ain't gonna back out, she told me so!"

"And are you backing out now too?" Snotlout demanded "after all that I've promised you?"

"It may be the smart thing ta do,"

"Not anymore, ya idiot!" They both turned to see Mildew approaching them, "you've made an enemy of Hofferson now. If she becomes the chief she'll blood eagle ya fer what ya jest tried to do. Yer only 'ope now is that Snotlout becomes chief."

Dogsbreath paled. "Ya don't mean that? That she'll blood eagle me, I mean,"

"She's a woman and she's bad tempered. Who knows what's goin' on in that pretty 'ead of 'ers?" Mildew replied grimly.

"An' all because I tried to pull 'er shirt off?"

Snotlout looked at him in surprise, "you tried to do what?"

"Nevermind," Mildew cut in, "all we can do now is get this boy to Gothi and 'ope Astrid never becomes Chief."

"But even if she does, I mean, she doesn't know that I was involved in this, does she?" Snotlout asked nervously, "Dogsbreath, you didn't say anything about me, did you?"

"I might've," Dogsbreath grinned suddenly, and then grimaced because his face hurt. "What's it worth to ya?"

Snotlout sighed, "Two pieces of silver?"

"Five,"

"Fine, I'll pay later, now: does Astrid know I was involved in this?"

"Nah,"

Snotlout breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, than all isn't lost. You never know. Maybe that Dragon King will kill her or something. I'd rather have her as my wife, of course, but I'll take any chance I can get if it makes me chief. And while she's gone we'll have plenty of time to impress Stoick and come up with new ideas."

"Ah still think ya should kill that man yerself," Mildew said.

"What if he kills Astrid and I avenge her?" Snotlout said as he and Mildew walked off, with Dogsbreath hobbling after them. "I could say something like, 'Die, demonic and demented dragon dung, like delicate damsel Astrid did…"