I Own Nothing

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Chapter 16

Kidnapped

When Fishlegs gained consciousness at last it was morning. The first thing he noticed was he was soaking wet. For a moment he stared at the sky in a daze and smiled at the pink clouds. The storm had broken and now the weather was improving. He put his hand down and felt the soft wet grass.

Then he remembered with a jolt why he was drenched and sitting on grass in the first place and got to his feet as fast as his large and tired body allowed him. He turned around and hurried down the path to the Village, praying he was not too late to prevent anything.

Every step he took made him more uneasy about what had happened to him. Memories of what he had seen the day before came flooding back and increased his anxiety. Dogsbreath plotting with some woman, the arrival of ships that he had heard about, and the woman knocking him unconscious. In his gut he sensed he was already too late and something terrible had already happened, and he had seldom hoped so fervently that his gut instinct was wrong. But as he approached the Village and heard shouts and a great deal more bustle than was usual at this time of day, he knew with a sinking heart that it was right.

He ran into the Plaza and saw Gobber and Olaf talking with some of Berk's carpenters and shipwrights. That sight alone brought Fishlegs to a halt. Just from their looking at their expressions and posture, it was clear something was wrong and if something was wrong the Chief would be present. But he was not present.

'Maybe the Chief is sailing somewhere.' Fishlegs thought, though he did not believe it. Further thoughts were dispelled when he spotted his mother, who screamed and rushed over to him.

"Oh Fishlegs, thank Odin," she wept as she hugged her son. "I thought they'd gotten you too!"

"I'm fine, mom," Fishlegs said reassuringly. "But what d'ya mean? Who got who?"

"You don't know?" She cried incredulously. "What have you been doing, Fish?"

"I'll explain later, mom, what's going on?" His question only brought on fresh tears.

"Oh, Fish, it's just horrible, just horrible!"

Thankfully his father arrived at that moment. He looked considerably relieved to see his son, but it vanished when Fishlegs repeated his question to him.

"Very bad business, Fish, very bad." He said grimly. "We can't find the Chief, the lass Astrid, or the Jorgenson men."

"We thought you'd been taken too!" his mom bawled.

"Taken by whom?"

"We think it was the strangers that came yesterday. Oh who am I kidding, it must have been them. Gobber said one of them was Drago Bludvist, and he and the Chief have some history between 'em. Their ships came yesterday evening and left some time during the night."

Fishlegs could not believe his ears. Drago Bludvist had come? He'd heard some horrible stories about that man that made his blood cold. And he had taken the Chief, Astrid, and the Jorgensons with him? He was too shocked to speak for a moment when he thought of them in that man's clutches.

"H—haven't we sent any ships out after them?"

"That's precisely what we're doing now. But unfortunately…"

"Those ships have at least a six hour head and we don't even know which direction they went." Fishlegs finished bitterly. His father was equally bitter.

"We sent out search parties on land last night but the weather was too rough to find anything. I don't think anyone made it very far."

"That explains why you didn't find me. What about Dogsbreath?"

"What about him? We found him in the Jorgenson house sound asleep. He's in the Healing hut right now recovering."

Fishlegs growled. Rage filled him. He wanted nothing better than to grab Dogsbreath and make him confess before everybody.

"Son, what's going on?" His father asked anxiously.

"Fish, what are you thinking about?" Her mother's words unexpectedly cooled his rage. He had to think. It would be largely his word against Dogsbreath, and he was not very good at talking in crowds. But the thought of Astrid and Snotlout in chains and completely at the mercy of Bludvist stiffened his determination.

He went over to Gobber and Olaf. His parents followed uncertainly.

"Ah! Fishlegs, there ya are, lad!" Gobber exclaimed with relief. "That's one down, four ta go! Ah jest hope the others will be as easy to find!" He turned back to the men he was talking to. "Are ya sure it's all of 'em?"

"All of them, Gobber."

"Thor almighty…" Gobber put a palm to his head. Fishlegs looked at Olaf Hofferson inquiringly.

"It's the ships. We've just found out that nearly every rudder has been damaged, and some damage was done during last night's storm." He was making an effort to speak matter-of-factly, but he was visibly uneasy. "Most of it is trivial, but it'll still take time for repairs and every hour we waste…" he turned away from them.

Gobber looked grimly at him. "Then we won't waste more time than we 'ave. Seaslug, git the repairs goin' now. Ah want 'em all ready fer sailin by tomorra mornin'."

Seaslug nodded determinedly and promised to have them so if they had to work all through the day and night. Yet when he and his men had left them neither Gobber nor Olaf looked very reassured.

"We still lose an entire day!" Olaf groaned. "And we don't even know where they'll be headed for!"

"How did they even manage to pull this off anyway?" demanded Fishleg's father. "The rudders getting damaged I can understand, it could have been done easily and stealthily enough, especially with that storm last night, but nobody would be so stupid they'd kidnap the Chief by carrying him right through the middle of his own village!"

"Perhaps they didn't," Fishlegs interrupted, "what if they had another ship moored somewhere else? Berk's not exactly short of beaches and natural harbors. What if while we kept an eye on the ships Drago came with he had another ship land on the other side of Berk?"

"That's possible," Olaf grumbled, "but in that case they'd have to know how to get through the woods in the middle of the night! Some people who were raised here can't do that! How did they know where to go without getting lost?"

Fishlegs said, "Why not ask Dogsbreath?" As quickly as possible he explained all that he had seen and his suspicions. The reactions of the four adults listening went from astonishment to shock to outrage, and they thanked Fishlegs profusely for his information.

"Where's that dirty rat?" Mr. Hofferson demanded, "If he knows where they took my daughter I'll have it out of him if I have to skin him alive and make him eat it!" He stormed over to Gothi's healing hut so quickly he had entered and exited it by the time they had caught up.

"He's not here!" Olaf shouted. "He was taken here to recover from being drugged, and now he's gone! Gobber, come here!" He dragged Gobber over to the healer Gothi. The elderly Gothi never spoke, but wrote on the ground using ancient runes which only Gobber and a few others were capable of reading.

"All right, Gothi, what happened?" Olaf demanded. The little hunched woman bent over a bin full of sand and began to write with her staff.

"Ok—she says 'e woke up a little while ago an' was feelin' light 'eaded. 'Bout a shower ago—" Here Gothi smacked him with her staff, her habitual reaction when people read her runes incorrectly. "Ow! Sorry, I mean an hour ago. Right, 'bout an hour ago he left to go to the Owl house—ow! Argh, out house, and 'e 'as not been seen since. Gothi would 'ave gone lookin' fer 'im herself but she was occupied with another patient." He looked up from the sand.

"Gothi did he say anything?" Olaf pressed anxiously. She needed no runes to tell him he had not. Olaf threw himself into an empty chair. He looked about ready to break down.

"Olaf, we'll find them, don't worry." Mrs. Ingerman assured him. They were empty words and everyone knew it.

"I thought we might be able to get something from that rat. A location—a reason—something! Now they're as good as gone, and I can't do a thing about it!" He stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go help with the repairs." He stopped at the door and asked if anyone else coming would be coming with him. Fishlegs' father motioned to Fishlegs to come with them, but Fishlegs hesitated.

"Go wid 'im, lad. There's nuffin' more we can do 'cept get the ships ready."

"Actually, Gobber, there is one thing we could try."

Gobber eyed him curiously. Fishlegs looked right back at him and in that gaze Gobber somehow understood what Fishlegs had in mind.

"Do ya think it'll work?"

"We have to try it."

"Try what?" Olaf demanded, halting in the doorway.

Fishlegs was dead serious. "I want to send a message to Hiccup."

Olaf came back into the room. "What good would that do?"

"Think about it, sir. Hiccup's got dragons all over the place. I saw a Terror above me when I was eavesdropping on Dogsbreath. I'll bet he knows where those ships have gone. Plus, we know that he's an enemy of Drago Bludvist. And don't forget, most of the dragons that we know Hiccup has can cover over five times the distance a ship can in a day. If Hiccup came to help us tonight with the rescue, we could have everything resolved within two or three days, not two or three weeks, which is how long it might take traveling by ship."

"But will Hiccup help us?" asked his mother.

"There's only one way to find out. It can't hurt us to try."

Gobber thought a moment. "Do ya 'ave a way to contact 'im?"

"I believe I do."

Gobber nodded. "Then do it."

"Meantime," Olaf said, "we'll get those ships repaired and fitted out, so if he doesn't come to help we'll have lost no time."

"And ah'll go look fer Hognose. Maybe 'e'll know somethin' 'bout this." Gobber announced as he headed out the door.

Mrs. Ingerman looked at her son nervously. "Fish, are you sure you know what you're doing, getting Hiccup involved with this?"

"If Bludvist is in this, then he probably already is involved." Fishlegs replied. "Unfortunately, if this is going to work, I'm going to need a little assistance,"

"You want us to help you catch a what?" Ruffnut yelled. Fishlegs tried to stay patient.

"You heard me. I need a dragon. And you're going to help me catch one—alive and unharmed."

"And just how are we going to do that?" Tuffnut asked. Fishlegs held up a salmon, a net, and a piece of polished metal.

Nearly an hour later they were outside in the woods hiding behind a boulder. The salmon was lying on the ground a few feet ahead of them. Fishlegs was carefully angling the metal so it reflected the sunlight in various directions. He had also left a letter on the statue of Hiccup I, but he had a suspicion it would be ignored. He wanted to ensure a dragon would deliver a letter for him, and that meant catching one himself.

"This is boring." Tuffnut moaned.

"Good things come to those who wait." Fishlegs said impatiently.

"We've been waiting here for hours." Ruffnut complained.

"Less than one, actually."

"Gosh, Sis, get it right!"

"Ah shut up, stupid."

"I'm not stewpid!"

"Yes you are!"

"Will you guys be quiet! You'll scare the dragons away before they even get here!"

"Like her armpits wouldn't do it anyway!" Tuffnut muttered.

"I heard that!"

"And I—" But Fishlegs held up a warning hand and pointed. The light reflecting off the metal had caught the attention of a Terrible Terror. It approached the area curiously. Then he spotted the fish on the ground and started drooling.

"Well hello! Now what have we here?" The little guy, for he was no bigger than a cat, approached the fish and sniffed it. "A nice big salmon fish for a poor hungry little me! How very considerate!"

"Now?" Ruffnut whispered to Fishlegs.

"Not quite…"

"Well, don't mind if I do."

"Now." Fishlegs whispered.

"What?" Tuffnut asked in confusion.

"Now!"

"Now what?"

"NOW!" He hadn't meant to shout but he did, and the Terror, after nearly shedding its skin with fright, spotted him.

"Get him!" Fishlegs yelled. Tuffnut promptly grabbed him. "Not me, stupid! Get the dragon!" Tuffnut grabbed his sister. Fishlegs was beside himself with fury. "I SAID GET THE DRAGON!"

"From my point of view this girl is a dragon! Have you seen her when she's in a bad mood?"

"Let go of me, you dummy!" Ruffnut dealt her brother a blow to the head.

"Goodnight, Mommy!" Tuffnut moaned right before he passed out.

"Great!" Fishlegs shouted, "We had the perfect chance and you guys blew it! All I wanted was for you to—wait, what are you pointing at?"

He looked down. The Terror was rolling around on the ground laughing. Laughing so hard it was having trouble breathing.

"Hahaha you guys are—gasp—the dumbest bunch of—hee hee—dragon trappers I've—hic—ever seen—hahaha!"

"Well I never!" Fishlegs grinned. He couldn't understand what the dragon was saying, of course, but the sight was so silly. The fearsome Terrible Terror was rolling around like a baby being tickled!

"Ruffnut, the net—and get it on the dragon, please."

The dragon saw them throw the net on top of him but he was in too humorous a mood to attempt an escape. "At least I'm going to die happy!" He declared, heroically puffing his chest out and raising his eyes to the heavens like a martyr. "They'll get no satisfaction out of me, my King!"

"Ruff, just look at this guy! Does this look like the creature we've been raised to fear and hate?"

"That's my brother you're referring to, and yes he does…and weren't you saying something about sending a letter?"

"Oh right." Fishlegs mentally slapped himself. For a moment his inquisitiveness had gotten the better of him. He pulled out a scroll of parchment and tied it to the Terror's leg. The Terror eyed him curiously.

"What are you doing to me? Death by mail?"

Fishlegs lowered himself so he was looking the Terror right in the eye. "Now you listen here, little guy—"

"Talking to Terrors," Ruffnut muttered, "he's gone round the bend this time! Just like us!" Her mood brightened at that last thought.

"—all we need is for you to take this message to the Dragon King at the Dragon Sanctuary. You understand me, right? Nod if you do."

"You want me to carry a letter to his majesty? I suppose I could do that." The Terror nodded

"Good! Now, I'll just take the net off of you and…there we go!"

"Free!"

At that moment Tuffnut regained consciousness. "I've got it! It was a rooster that ate Mom's dress!"

The Terror couldn't resist and bit him on the nose before taking off. While Tuffnut screamed about how hurt he was and Ruffnut laughed at him Fishlegs watched the dragon fly away.

"Please help us out, Hiccup." He whispered. If Hiccup refused, he had no idea what they were going to do to get Astrid and the Chief's family back.

Far out at sea four Hairy Hooligans were locked up in the brig of a ship.

"Let me out of here!" Snotlout screamed as he pushed on the bars of his cell. "I'm innocent! Innocent I tell you! Whatever this is about it's not my fault!"

"Oh shut up!" Astrid shouted at him. "Do you think they're going to release us because you ask them to?"

"You keep quiet too!" Spitelout snapped. "This is yer fault and ya know it!"

Astrid was indignant. "My fault!"

"Yes! If ya hadn't been so stupid ya wouldn't 'ave gone to that accursed island, and then Drago wouldn't have come to capture us!"

She saw about to retort when they heard footsteps. The man creating them was Dagur the Deranged and he was grinning.

"I love hearing the sound of people in cells screaming. It's so delightful!"

Stoick said, "Dagur! What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting my prisoners, silly! Are you all comfortable? Can I get you anything?"

"How about the keys?" Astrid hinted.

"Nice try, my dear, but you aren't going to make a fool out of me! I already did that to myself a long time ago!—wait, did that come out wrong?"

Stoick nodded with understanding. "I'm guessing you and Drago made an alliance?"

"And Alvin too! We're like brothers, my dear Stoick! Brothers! So when my dear brothers Drago and Alvin both wanted you captured, how could I possibly say 'no'? And soon we'll be saying hello to our youngest brother too!" He started laughing as though he was a monkey. Then all at once he was serious. "And we brothers have got some plans for you!"

"Then if it's me you want, let the others go. Surely having the Chief of Berk as a hostage is enough for you."

"Sorry, but Drago insisted on having Astrid brought here too. As for you two," he gestured carelessly to the Jorgenson men, "We didn't need you but you happened to be there, so…bad luck!"

"And what do you want with us?" Astrid demanded. "If you're after information on the Dragon King, you're asking the wrong people!"

"Oh, don't worry! There's nothing you can tell us that we don't already know!" He laughed. "The Dragon King was Hiccup all along! Who'd have thought it? My little brother!" He frowned. "He turned on his family! He's such a bad boy! So we've got to bring him home and punish him for abandoning his kind and loving family!" He held up his sword. "Don't worry, my friend, you'll soon be touching Hiccup again!" He continued to reassure it as he walked away.

Stoick spoke after a short silence. "Well, they don't call him Dagur the Deranged for nothing."

"Is Hiccup really his brother?" Snotlout asked. Astrid slapped her forehead and wished he wasn't out of reach so she could do the same thing to him.

"But wait a minute—if they don't want information out of us then why are we here?" He went on.

"Isn't it obvious?" Astrid spat. She really wished she was stuck with smarter prisoners. "They want Hiccup. So they've kidnapped people he knows, expecting him to come and try to save us, then they'll capture him and kill him!"

"I wouldn't object ta that if they were using somebody else fer bait," Spitelout commented. Astrid looked at him appalled. Stoick simply sat on his bench and stared at the wall of the ship.

"Chief, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing for the moment. There's nothing we can do."

"But we've gotta get out of here!" Snotlout wailed.

"Oh Snotlout, shut up! Even if we escaped these cells somehow, there are only four of us! We'd never be able to take over the ship or sail it back to Berk, and we can't swim back, so until we've reached land there's nothing we can do except wait."

"Hiccup warned me this would happen." Astrid said softly, "why didn't we listen to him?"

"Don't talk 'bout him." Spitelout ordered. "It's 'is fault we're in this ta begin with."

"Oh, so it's his fault now?"

"'Course it is. We're prisoners 'ere because Drago thinks we're his family and close friends. Soon as 'e revealed who he was he made us targets. Therefore, this is 'is fault!"

"If that's the case, then we're to blame for not paying attention to the warnings he gave when we wanted him to reveal himself! This is exactly what he was talking about, but no! We all just had to ignore him and press him to tell us who he was! That's what all of this comes back to: we ignored him, as usual!" She followed Stoick's example and stared at the wall.

"I wonder if he knows about this." Snotlout mused.

The man in question had mostly recovered from his injury, thanks most due to Toothless concentrating entirely on taking care of him. During the first week the Dragon was in complete control and when he told his brother to rest or to eat, his tone clearly indicated he would have no arguments.

Fearful of his reaction, no dragon dared to bring up Berk when he was nearby, not even Toothless. Taking his cue from them, he refused to mention it. Instead, once he had sufficiently recovered, he returned to his old hobbies with renewed vigor and excitement. Blacksmithing, inventing, drawing, and most of all flying were the ways he had passed his time. Toothless had seldom seen him look so enthusiastic about these pursuits, though he wished there was a better reason for it.

He was a bit too enthusiastic. Toothless at first almost feared he was intentionally trying to get injured again, maybe so he could have dragon blood put into him to see what would happen, but he soon realized that was not the case. He was being so enthusiastic so he would not think of Berk.

Toothless did think of Berk a lot. Sometimes he was so sick of the subject and its crimes that he wanted to fly over there and burn the village down. Sometimes he did not care about it and wanted to leave it alone forever. Yet there were also times where he wanted his friend to be reconciled with the place, somehow. He knew Berk's rejection still hurt him, and he just wanted to be able to do something about it.

They got word that Drago was increasing his demands on the dragon trappers, and they were increasing their attempts to capture dragons. So naturally the King increased their efforts to stop them. Ships and strongholds were being raided almost nightly, and sometimes at day too. By now all of the dragons taking part in this were seasoned veterans and could free imprisoned dragons from a defended cargo hold in under five minutes. The ships and the men on them they left as unharmed as possible. The King still preferred to merely subdue them, not kill them. The King himself was not taking part in this much, as Toothless would not allow him to risk getting injured while still recovering. It galled him to be left out of things, but Toothless's word was law at the moment.

Until today at least. The King had finally convinced Toothless to give him a trial run with dragon rescuing, which soon went far beyond anything they had expected. The King and Toothless had led rescues on 3 ships themselves, and 5 more rescues had occurred elsewhere. Once they reached the Sanctuary Toothless decided his rider had had too much excitement for one day and demanded he take a rest.

"Get in that bed right now or I will drag you to it and sit on you to keep you there!"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Just like how you enjoy bringing up baths!"

His rider yawned. "I suppose a few hours wouldn't hurt."

"Only if you keep putting strain on that arm and shoulder."

"I'm fine, Bud."

"You'd say that after someone cut both your arms off." Toothless gave him a big lick on the face.

"Yep, you're enjoying this."

The dragon looked seriously at him. "I just want you to take care of yourself."

"Why? You do it for me. Hello, what's that?" A Terror came into the room and began hopping about in excitement. "Easy there, little guy, what's going on?"

"Sir, I just want you to know I didn't tell them anything!"

"Tell who anything?"

"They got no satisfaction out of me!"

"No what—and what is that around your leg?"

"I come bearing a mail for your majesty!" The Terror held out his leg as if there was a giant diamond and not parchment attached to it. The King untied the letter and frowned as he read it.

"Toothless, listen to this:

"Hiccup

I know I don't have any right to ask this of you, but I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Please meet me in the eastern woods of Berk after sunset but before midnight. Please, Hiccup. This is a matter of life and death.

Fishlegs

"Clever," the King commented when he had finished. "Very cleverly written. You'll notice he doesn't say why he wants to talk to me, though he makes it sound important. He hopes that by doing so my curiosity will be aroused and I'll come, if for no other reason than to satisfy it. But he also is vague because he fears any specifics might anger me and dissuade me from coming. That's Fishlegs for you." He set the parchment down and began taping his fingers on the bed sheets as he thought.

"And what are we going to do about it?" Toothless demanded. "Go back to that rock? Walk into another trap?"

"Of course not." He lay back. "I'm going to get a little sleep if that's all right with you."

Toothless would have taken a nap as well, but he decided he make certain the new dragons had gotten situated, so he left. The King stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep to come. While he waited he thought about what the next move against Drago Bludvist should be. This made him remember what that trapper Eret had said. Was he truly just causing more trouble? Was he causing people to starve and suffer because he was wrecking the dragon trade? He shook his head. They could always find other lines of work. They did not have to capture, sell, and kill dragons.

Still, how much longer could this go on for? Drago may have had virtually no dragons to make an effective fighting force now, but he still had a lot of manpower at his command. Sooner or later he would decide to move. He had to, or else his alliances would break, his men would become demoralized, and his supplies would run out. The question was where would he do first? Try and find the dragons and destroy or capture them, or go against any Vikings who opposed him? The dragons would be a much greater prize, but a much harder one to net. The individual Viking tribes would be much easier, but they would put up a good fight and cost Drago men and time.

Either way, what would he do about it? Sometimes he wanted to just gather every dragon and go for an all out attack. That was the Viking way: throw everything into a huge charge and either wipe out the foe or your own army. He'd been reluctant to do that, yet guessed that sooner or later they would probably have to.

There seemed to be no way out of it. He could feel war was coming and he knew it meant killing, but he could not bring himself to kill anyone. In fact, apart from the Red Death, he had never killed a dragon nor had he ever killed a human, as far as he knew, though he had probably been the reason for some deaths. But while the men who had sided with Drago were his enemies, a lot of them were innocents in this who just picked the opposite side—just as he had. Then again, he knew a lot of them were greedy bloodthirsty sadistic men who enjoyed seeing mighty creatures chained up and in pain.

And now there was this kidnapping that had happened several days ago. He already knew what Drago was up to, and Drago most likely knew he knew it. He had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he had warned them, and he was not really in the mood to do Berk any favors. On the other hand, they were still former friends and family members, and they were in the hands of his enemies. The King had done nothing personally about it, because he had been confined to his island until today, but he had given orders that if the ship carrying the hostages was found, they were to be brought to the Sanctuary alive and unharmed. So far nothing had turned up, though granted after the fiasco on Berk no dragons had searched very hard for the kidnapped Berkians, and he suspected the ship had already reached its destination.

As he dwelt on this a memory came to mind. A beautiful woman was leering over him, a whip in one hand, the other hand stroking his bloodied cheek, and then the crack of the whip began again. He slammed a fist into his head as if to knock the memory out of it. Taking deep breaths he tried to focus on something else. The memory returned, only this time it was not him there but Astrid. He tried to go back to thinking about the coming war. It did not help. Indeed, he wondered now if it had already begun since Drago had captured Astrid. He saw her beaten, lashed, bloodied, clothes torn, eyes brimming with tears as she tried to not show any pain. He tried to think of other things, anything, but he kept seeing her limp and beaten body lying on the floor of a cell.

He groaned and sat up in bed. "Toothless!"

To save myself from another wave of fury over this cliffhanger, the next chapter will be posted this evening.