Adventures in Berksitting

Chapter Two: Tell It to Frigga

On the third day of Hiccup's tenure as chief the morning dawned bright and clear. Hiccup had already been awake for an hour, fussing with the plans for the proposed nesting enclosure further up the mountain. Now that the hostilities between Berk and the dragons had crumbled, the two camps had become fiercely attached to each other and hunkering down together in a single community was the natural progression of their affection. Fine and good, but it had to be approached practically, and keeping nests in Berk was not practical.

Dragons did not reproduce more often than humans, but one might expect to lay two or three eggs at a time. One dragon egg would require a lot of attention; handling several would be disaster control. When stressing this point at a council meeting, Hiccup compared it to managing the equivalent of the Thorston twins at each nesting. This had been sufficient to impress upon them the gravity of the situation and the proposal to look for a suitable place had passed unanimously.

Hiccup tapped on a counter with his charcoal. Should he convert the former dragon training ring into the nest? While a practical measure, too much blood had spilled on the dirt there. Then again, with the chains making a domed spiderweb, what better construction was there for hatchlings first trying out their wings?

He might just let the dragons decide. If they took to it, then that was that. If not he'd find someplace else.

Toothless was snoozing on the floor in a patch of light coming through the window. Hiccup went over to scratch him.

It had been an easy two days. Everybody was on their best behavior, as though determined to make this first trial go as smoothly as possible for Hiccup. He was grateful to them for it. Even the twins had restrained themselves, and were eager to help.

Yes, this chief thing was okay. He could do this. Why, Berk was almost idyllic right now. The sun was shining, some birds were chirping, strangled yelps were drawing nearer, he could smell flowers blooming closeby.

Wait. Strangled yelps?

"Hiccup! Hiccup!"

He knew that voice.

Hiccup opened his door with trepidation, and ended up at eye-level with a ham-sized fist about to knock. It retreated before it could tattoo his forehead. Bright blue eyes glared furiously out of a face that looked as though it had once cracked stone as Stoick's head did.

"Hi, Birgit."

She was not inclined to formalities just then. "You," she said, jabbing a finger at him so as to dispense any doubt that she could possibly be referring to anybody else, "are coming with me."

Birgit grabbed his shoulder and fairly dragged him alongside. Hiccup just managed to close the door behind him after gesturing for an alarmed Toothless to stay put. He wasn't in danger. Probably. Birgit was a full head taller than Hiccup; indeed, she stood higher than most other men. She also led the women's circle, the formidable coalition that held the traditionally male-dominated council in check. Hiccup had been warned often to avoid crossing the group and Birgit in particular.

And he'd thought everything was going so well.

Ahead he could see a small gaggle forming in what passed for the village square. A blonde head turned and he saw Astrid was already there, flanked by a smirking Ruffnut. Astrid raised her eyebrows in warning, while the other girl could scarcely contain her mirth.

Hiccup had an awful feeling about this.

Before Astrid could take him aside and explain the situation, Birgit muscled him through the group and steered him to a halt in front of two people around whom the circle was clustered. Hiccup recognized Knut, a boy who had entered dragon training several years ahead of him, and Halfrid, his longtime paramour.

Hiccup studied them warily. "What's this about?"

Birgit fixed the two with a stare. "You're going to marry them," she announced.

For the love of Thor he couldn't tell if she was joking.

"Um, wouldn't I be a third wheel?" He laughed weakly.

A few titters ran through the crowd. Astrid buried her face in her hands. When he saw Birgit's stormy expression he regretted saying anything, and turned back to the couple. Knut looked abashed, Halfrid defiant.

"Not like it matters what I think, but could somebody explain what's going on?"

Everyone seemed content to let Birgit do the talking. "If these two are going to sneak off into the forest every day," said Birgit as she glowered at them, "they can go about it married."

"Ah." Hiccup's face began to burn. "Wow."

Ruffnut was close to losing it at his discomfort. Both of her fists were shoved impossibly in her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking.

Knut began to protest. "But we didn't—" Chilly stares effectively snapped his mouth shut.

Say something, anything. He'd eaten some bad onions. He had dragon pox. Sorry, but he'd be in bed all day with the covers over his head. "It's Wednesday." Typically, marriages were conducted on Fridays and it might give everyone a chance to cool over the next forty-eight hours.

This did little to stymie Birgit. "All days honor the gods," she declared. "So any day is as good as another."

"I can't do that. For one, I'm not the chief," Hiccup pointed out. "Nothing I could do would be legally binding. And second, Grima performs the marriages." Was this conversation actually happening?

"Grima's on her sojourn at the shrine," spoke up a darkheaded woman to his right. "Who knows when she'll be back?"

Birgit dismissed his argument with a wave of her hand. "Of course it's legal. 'In the absence of the chief, authority falls to the regent, and he acts in the chief's name.'"

"You're quoting something. What are you quoting?"

"I'm quoting tradition!" She stuck her finger into his chest. "Stop stalling."

He frowned at her. "I don't know what to say."

Birgit placed her hands on her hips. "Nobody invited you here for your opinion. This is women's circle business and the matter is decided."

"No, I mean I don't know what to say. Is there a script? Do I adlib?" Hiccup spread his hands. "Can I throw in a joke?"

For some reason this succeeded in slowing Birgit down. Her mouth worked as she searched for something to say. Hiccup took the chance to address Knut and Halfrid. "What do you want to do? No one's going to force you."

Birgit and some others spluttered indignantly. He ignored them.

Knut was too flustered to answer, but Halfrid tossed her head haughtily. "Go ahead." Knut nodded, ears red.

So the matter of consent was settled at least. Did they expect this to happen right here and now? From the looks on their faces, he was willing to bet on it. Well, he knew better than that. At this point his chief concern was minimizing his liability (he did not want to think on Stoick or Grima's reactions upon returning and discovering this), meaning everything was going to be as by the book as possible. That meant a proper ceremony on the proper day after proper preparations.

"Friday," he said obstinately, and held up his hands when the objections came flying. "Tell it to Frigga."

He turned and started walking back to his house. Mercifully he was not followed by Birgit, who it sounded like was lecturing Halfrid on wifely expectations and giving an opinion on what her dowry ought to be. When he heard clumsy footfalls he glanced over his shoulder to see Knut hurrying after him.

"Um, thanks," the groom-to-be said breathlessly when he caught up.

"For what?" Getting hamstrung? Hiccup might have been afraid that he was allowing a dangerous precedent for disrespect and undermining of the chief if he hadn't witnessed the same woman berating Stoick before with similar results.

Knut stammered, "I don't know. Getting the circle to calm down, I guess."

Hiccup had noted a distinct lack of calming down. "Anytime."

"There's just one problem."

"Only one?"

"I don't have a sword to give her," Knut said to his feet. "It fell apart years ago."

Ah. Traditionally the groom presented his wife with his family's sword, which would be passed down to their firstborn son, who would give it to his wife and so on. Personally Hiccup thought Halfrid was the sort who would run you through with any sword you were foolish enough to give her but Knut was plainly smitten.

His own family sword hung on a wall in his house, next to the sword his mother had given his father as her own wedding gift. Stoick never used them but kept both sharp.

"We could probably let that slide," said Hiccup.

"I have to give her something."

Hiccup carefully stepped around a large rock. "Knut, maybe you have other things to worry about. Like setting up a household? Any blade will do. Cutlery. A steel toothpick. A butterknife. Pick something."

Knut was so aghast he nearly stopped walking. "I am not handing down my firstborn son a butterknife to pass on."

"Why not? He'd get more use out of it than he would a sword." Hiccup turned to look at Knut and felt slightly sorry for him when he saw the young man's forlorn face. This meant a lot to him.

"I'll figure something out," he assured Knut. "You'll have a sword to give her."

Apparently his word was gold, for Knut visibly brightened and he actually went off looking excited. Hiccup blew out a breath. Maybe Gobber had a sword lying around the shop he wouldn't be loathe to part with. A new one was out of the question; they were time-consuming things to craft and a proper one wouldn't be ready for weeks.

As it turned out Gobber did not have a sword handy. "We're more into battle-axes, if you haven't noticed," he informed Hiccup. The only swords that were to be found were reserved for other Vikings or belonged to one already, sent to Gobber for sharpening. In instances like Knut where a new sword was needed for a ceremony, Gobber was normally given far more notice that allowed him to forge a sword from scratch.

So Hiccup went poking around the armory. Plenty of spares were stored there along with other weapons of meandering lethality. There was something to be said for the creativity with which Vikings thought of new ways to hack at something. Astrid found him rummaging around there, with Toothless batting at the lights thrown onto the floor by hundreds of reflecting blades.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding Knut something to give Halfrid." Hiccup held one sword up. It was heavy and he needed both hands to lift it. Had Astrid really suggested he try using one of these things? "Does this look like a wedding sword to you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't know, I've never gotten one." She put down the basket she'd been carrying and came closer to peer at it. "There's a spot of rust near the handle."

"Nobody's asking him to use it."

"Have you considered that maybe nobody should be giving Halfrid a sword?"

"I suggested a butterknife."

Astrid was right about the rust. Hiccup tossed the sword on top of a pile of other rejects with a clatter. Bored with playing at spots of light, Toothless yawned and sat back with a sleepy look. Astrid began pawing through some blades.

"Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose, you filching a sword from the armory for Knut to present to his wife?" she asked off-handedly, dangling a shortsword pinched between her thumb and forefinger.

What purpose? So far as Hiccup could tell, brides and grooms exchanged swords with the explicit understanding they would frequently brandish them at each other. "I'm not filching. Nobody's using them. We're into battle-axes." He paused. "You. You're into battle-axes. I'm into butterknives."

Snorting back a laugh, Astrid held up a candidate. Hiccup went over and inspected it. Not bad. "That should work."

"Not for Knut, for you." She made him take it. "I still think you ought to take up swords. It wouldn't hurt to try."

Hiccup could think of a lot of ways it would hurt to try, and he told her several of them. Nevertheless he kept it to make her happy. Eventually he found another that was suitable to give Knut and they walked out with Toothless lumbering beside them. The swords were bundled up in cloth.

Astrid's basket happened to be full of good things to eat. Toothless nosed at it, but turned in disdain at the smell of cooked meat. He was still coming to terms with the idea that his human inexplicably preferred his food charred and scarred, although sometimes Hiccup thought he pitied humans for their sensitive stomachs from the way he sadly regarded their cooking fires.

"I'm thinking of turning the ki—the training ring into a nest," he asked Astrid as they walked.

She was surprised by the suggestion. "It's not the first place I'd have thought of." Seeing he was serious she added, "Are you sure? I mean—its history..."

Hiccup knew its history. "Yeah. But I don't know if we can overlook it. Baby dragons need a safe place they can run around and get rowdy in. The ring is the best option." He dug out his notebook and flipped to a page with his drawing. "See this? We could drape the dome in winter."

Astrid looked at it but her face remained dubious. "Hiccup, it's a smart choice. But don't you think everyone would be a little... freaked out? Dragons died there. So did people."

"They'd have to get over it," Hiccup said stubbornly. "I'm going to let the Nadder decide whether or not she likes it. If so then that's where the nest goes."

She smiled at him. "You sound like a chief."

This both embarrassed and pleased him, and his face was red as he put the notebook away.

"Hiccup!"

They turned as Big Tug stomped up to them, sufficiently menacing enough that Toothless flattened back the plates on his head. Hiccup calmed him with a touch but his stomach dropped at the look on Big Tug's face, which would have been plenty intimidating even without the thunderous expression that twisted it.

Big Tug was Halfrid's father.

The huge Viking marched to a halt and furiously pointed at the bundle in Hiccup's arms with a sausage-sized finger. "Is that the sword my future son-in-law," he fairly spat the words out, "will be presenting to my girl in two days?"

Hiccup fought a groan. He'd thought he could count on Knut not to let the Terror out of the bag. "Why uh, why do you ask?"

"Because if he thinks that the symbol of his everlasting devotion is going to be a rejected blade from the armory, he won't live to see the wedding night," Big Tug said darkly.

He was joking. Had to be. To illustrate his faith in this, Hiccup laughed. Weakly. "Ha, ha..." It peetered out at Big Tug's scowl. "Knut's family sword fell apart a long time ago. There's no available ones in the blacksmith stall. What is he supposed to give her?"

Big Tug snorted. "It fell apart. Of course it did. Why shouldn't I think the symbol of his everlasting devotion was left neglected in a corner for so many years that it crumbled?" He fixed Hiccup with a beady eye. "Do you know the sword my girl is going to give him? It has been passed down for generations, and it's not even the family sword. But it's in perfect condition. To look at it, you'd think it had come from the smithy yesterday."

Hiccup maneuvered the bundle so Big Tug couldn't get a look and said, "I don't think any old sword means she's any old girl to him."

The other Viking stared him down. "She's my only daughter," he said, and Hiccup was astonished to hear a break in his voice. "My little girl is getting married in two days, and he doesn't have a sword to give her."

Suddenly Hiccup felt sorry for him. The wedding wasn't abrupt only for Knut and Halfrid. She was going to pass from her parent's roof to her husband's, and her father had only forty-eight hours to reconcile himself to that.

"Why didn't you argue against this?" he couldn't help but ask. "Or for postponing it a few weeks. It's not like it's a crossbow wedding. There's no hurry." He would not believe Big Tug was simply too intimidated by Birgit to object.

Big Tug's shoulders slumped. "Halfrid loves him," he mumbled. "The gods know why."

Hiccup looked helplessly at Astrid, who shrugged right back. Toothless was staring in wonder at a threat neutralizing itself so quickly.

"He won't give her a sword he got from the armory," Hiccup heard himself promise.

Big Tug grunted, but he looked relieved. Muttering something about dowries to prepare, he turned and strode away a little less violently than he'd come up to them. As they watched him walk off, Astrid shook her head.

"Hiccup, you promised Knut that you'd find him a sword, and now you've just promised Big Tug you wouldn't."

"Well—" Hiccup coughed—"what I said was that Knut wouldn't give her a sword he got from the armory."

She raised an eyebrow. "And what hair is it you're splitting?"

"Hiccup!"

"Oh for Odin's—"

Knut came skidding to a stop. Bringing that much Viking to a quick halt wasn't easy and he had to dig in his heels. He looked around anxiously. "Is he gone?"

"Big Tug? Yeah, he's—"

"Listen, forget about the sword."

Hiccup frowned. "Is this about your father-in-law?" Was he ever going to get to have lunch?

Knut flushed. "He's right. Halfrid deserves better than some old sword that's been collecting dust for ages. I'll, I'll get a proper one forged. It will be just a few weeks late."

"How about not marrying for a few weeks?" Let Grima or his father worry about this.

The boy kicked a clod of dirt. "Hiccup, I've been trying to marry Halfrid for ages. Up till now her father wouldn't even hear of it. It's only because the women's circle is pressing it that he's given in. If we wait, they might...might not care so much by then."

A suspicion began to form. "Knut," started Hiccup, "did you two—did you and Halfrid plan all this?"

Upon seeing the guilty look on the boy's face, Hiccup groaned aloud and Astrid started snickering. Toothless had by now given up on understanding human behavior and was investigating a nearby bush. Something inside squawked and he whuffed back.

Now Hiccup was annoyed. "You waited for my father to leave," he accused. "So nobody could stand up to Birgit."

"You did," said Knut. "Sorry. It really seemed like the only way. But I still want to give her a sword that means something. Better that then presenting her with a piece of junk that's been in my family for all of a few hours."

"Go away, Knut. Go away and let me think."

Knut went away, rubbing at his neck apologetically.

Astrid started laughing as soon as he'd gone. "Oh, wow. So what are you going to do with that sword?"

Hiccup let his shoulders fall and stared up. "I'll think of something."

Evening came and went, and too quickly it was morning again. Hiccup lay with his back against Toothless, having already done his morning rounds in the village. Mostly they had consisted of nodding at whatever he was shown and telling everybody to keep up the good work. As always when a wedding loomed, Berk became as festive as it ever did. The men and women formed secretive sides that teased the other and laughed amongst themselves.

Knut and Halfrid could hardly go around without being enveloped by well-meaning entourages constantly offering advice. Now that everybody was more or less resolved about the wedding, typical excitement crept in. Even the dragons sensed it and enthusiastically hopped around.

Hiccup still didn't know what to do about the sword. He wanted Knut and Big Tug to get along; four days in and still there were no outstanding bloodfeuds, and he wanted to keep it that way. Somehow he didn't think either would be satisfied with a raincheck for a good sword. Big Tug would always hold it against his son-in-law for coming to the wedding empty-handed.

After a while he was joined by Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins, with a few Terrors in tow. Stoick, upon his departure, had tactfully advised his son to avoid being seen to play favorites, and that included spending all his time with his friends. But a little time wouldn't hurt, and anyway nobody could say that Haddock was neglecting his duties.

Possibly against his better judgement, he told the rest about Knut's little dilemma. Predictably, they thought it was hilarious. Hiccup supposed he might have thought it funny too, if he didn't feel responsible for finding a solution.

"Who says it has to be a sword?" asked Ruffnut after she'd finished giggling. "Spears are better anyway." She patted her own spear fondly.

"Or a hammer," offered Fishlegs.

"Just remember," said Hiccup glumly, "that whatever weapon you could give Halfrid, you'd still be giving Halfrid a weapon."

This stilled their jokes. "A sword it is," declared Tuffnut. "I don't think she knows how to use those."

Astrid said under her breath, "I'm still voting for the butterknife."

Hiccup smiled and studied the sky. He liked being around them. Before, when he was still on the outside looking in, he'd always sort of dismissed their smalltalk as inconsequential though he envied their popularity and the cool jobs they got. Their conversations hadn't really changed any, still full of boasts and jokes and teasing, but for some reason these talks were valuable to him now.

"My dad didn't have a sword either," Snotlout said. "He had to dig up his great-uncle's grave or something to get one. I bet it was gross."

"He did what?"

Fishlegs sat forward. "I've heard that before," he said eagerly. "When somebody doesn't have a sword, sometimes they have to open the grave of some ancestor that was buried with theirs. And then the ancestor comes back as a ghost and gives them advice."

Collectively they stared at him. Tuffnut turned to Hiccup with a grin. "Well, there you go. Play dear old great-grandaddy."

"We don't know who was buried with a sword," said Astrid thoughtfully.

"Wait." Hiccup held up his hands. "You're not serious." When nobody said anything, he became incredulous. "That is just a little more effort than I was planning to go to."

"Aw, we know you'd do anything to help a Berkian out," Ruffnut punched him affectionately. "What's graverobbing next to battling a giant dragon?"

"Um, possibly illegal."

"You know it's not."

"We could not and say we did," said Fishlegs. "Knut could tell Big Tug he got it from a grave."

Maybe. Hiccup was doubtful, though. Knut was not the best at keeping secrets. Nor was he keen on giving Halfrid a sword from outside the family anymore. Sooner or later, he'd spill the beans and land himself and Hiccup in hot water with Big Tug. The best thing to do was see if there was an available sword buried with some great-something-or-other and acquire it legitmately.

Unfortunately, after some discreet querying around the village, it seemed unlikely. "That lot was always more into battle-axes," said Snagrod knowingly. Go figure.

So Hiccup got an idea.

"Knut!"

The young man looked up to see Hiccup standing at the doorway with a shovel in his hands, dark against the stars.

"Come on."

Knut got up warily. He'd been in the process of polishing his horned helm. Hiccup was almost afraid to ask if he intended to wear it to the ceremony. "What's going on? The wedding's not till sunrise."

Night had fallen heavily. Bonfires speckled the cliff side. Every so often you saw the bright puff of a dragon's breath, and then darkness pressed into the void even more. Hiccup started walking and after a moment's hesitation Knut began to follow.

"We're going to get you a sword," said Hiccup with more confidence than he felt. There were so many ways this could go wrong.

"A sword? Hiccup, I don't—"

"—want to give Halfrid any old sword," Hiccup finished. "Well, you won't. Now shh."

They were silent as they started trudging up the hill. After a few minutes Hiccup was sure his prosthesis needed some tweaks for uphill traveling; it was killer on the hip joint. "Nothing like a little night air to clear the head," he laughed breathlessly when Knut looked at him in concern.

Finally they reached the cemetery. The memorial site of Vikings past lay to the west of Berk, a hilly patch of land that jutted high above the water crashing below. Even in death, their people could not leave the sea. Hiccup stopped in relief to survey the area. Everything looked ready.

Up came Astrid, Fishlegs and Snotlout, each bearing a shovel. Astrid held two. "They're here to help," said Hiccup. Knut only stared in confusion.

They moved into the graveyard.

Once a year Stoick visited this place. Hiccup had never come with him on those anniversaries, but he'd often been to the spot Stoick returned to each year. This place gave him a hollow sensation in his bones, when he thought of how many Vikings were buried here that had breathed their last staring into a dragon's eyes. Here, he understood the importance of what he and Toothless had achieved. So many graves that would not be dug, not for a long time at least.

"What are we doing here?" Knut asked. "Nobody in my family was buried with a sword." So he knew of that particular tradition.

"That you know of," Hiccup corrected. They moved among the graves until he paused in front of a mossy headstone. "Meet dear old Great-great-great-great Uncle Spadding."

Knut repeated the name slowly, having obviously never heard it before.

Astrid handed him a shovel. "Start digging."

The boy held the tool like he didn't know what to do with it. "Dig?" he said in disbelief. Astrid pointed to the space in front of the gravestone.

"Right there."

"It's a grave! I can't just—who is Uncle Spadding?" Knut sounded a little hysterical. His eyes were bobbing in the dark, darting from one face to another.

Snotlout placed a hand over his heart. In the dark Hiccup could just barely discern the severe struggle with which he kept his face straight. "Good old Spadding," he said in tones of mourning.

"He loved to juggle axes, but it was the dragon pox that got him," added Fishlegs.

"Fortunately," said Astrid, "he was buried with his sword." She thrust Knut toward the grave. He balanced on his toes as though trying to keep from walking off a cliff.

"And how is he related again?" Knut babbled.

"He's your grandmother's brother-in-law's aunt-by-marriage's stepfather," Astrid said impatiently. "Dig."

Faced with her scowl, Knut wordlessly began to shovel. Hiccup started to breathe a little easier, but he still counted the minutes worriedly. Together with the others they made short work of a few feet of dirt. Knut did not seem to think it odd how easily the topsoil broke apart, due to the fact that the particular patch of earth in which they were digging had been removed previously to his arrival, with a square of grass carefully cut away and put back again.

Fishlegs's shovel hit wood first. They bent down to scrabble at the remaining dirt. Knut hardly had time to object before Hiccup made to pry off a corner from the lid of the coffin they'd uncovered. He kneeled to peek inside and exhaled a little in quiet relief, then motioned for Knut to come forward. The boy approached apprehensively.

"Open it."

Looking rather green, Knut bent beside Hiccup and opened the coffin lid the rest of the way. Inside, a moth-eaten funeral veil covered the body beneath. At Snotlout's rough jabbing Knut reluctantly pinched a corner of the veil and drew it back with a deep breath.

The face that was revealed had a white-green cast to it, so that it hardly bore any resemblance to human skin. A faintly nauseating odor arose from the body. "Ugh," Knut said in disgust, and pinched his nose before lifting the veil the rest of the way. "He's only half-rotted." A snigger escaped from Snotlout.

White hands clutched the hilt of a sword. Knut gasped in delight, forgetting his squeamishness for a moment.

"A sword! You were right! He really was buried with one." His hands darted forward, then hovered above the hilt.

"Take it," Hiccup encouraged.

Knut overcame his revulsion just enough to pick at the fingers gripping the hilt, then to pry them off one by one. It really was gross, Hiccup marveled. The sword came free of the hands, and Knut held it up triumphantly in his fist.

"I got it! I have a sword!" He jumped up excitedly, holding his shovel in one hand and his newfound sword in the other. "Oh man, this fixes everything!" Hiccup started, remembering how he once said something eerily similar right before everything went wrong.

"Ooo."

Knut dropped his arms, still grinning. "What'd you say?" he asked Hiccup.

Hiccup gritted his teeth. "I said we should go."

"Ooo."

"That wasn't you," Knut said wonderingly, looking at Astrid, Fishlegs and Snotlout in turn. "Who—?"

"Knuuuut," came a voice from the dark.

As one they turned to see the corpse rising from its unearthed grave, arms raised and fingers spread. Its eyes opened and rolled, revealing pale blue irises clouded by death. "You took my swooord, Knuuuut," it said. "Now what will I use to paddle across the Gjöll—"

"AHH!" Knut screamed, and swung the shovel at it. It struck the corpse upside the head and flung it backwards.

They collectively gasped, and Hiccup slapped a hand to his head. The steel helmet the body had been buried in had absorbed the blow, but not the anger. At least he hadn't swung the sword. The corpse scrambled back up and started hopping up and down in rage.

"You hit me!" it yelled indignantly. "You just hit me! I'm your uncle and I'm dead and you hit me!"

Knut hit it again.

"You little twit! Fine! Fine! A pox on your firstborn! Your kids will all have acne!"

"Stop that!" Hiccup snapped, grabbing Knut's arm as he drew back a third time. "Stop! That's your ancestor!"

"Yeah, are you trying to kill me again?" the corpse demanded.

Astrid's expression was dangerous as she muttered, "I might," low enough that only Hiccup heard. He had the awful feeling this was about to spiral out of control.

"I don't think he wants to harm you," he hissed to Knut.

"Well, I didn't," said the corpse, still furious. "What's the bright idea Knut? This how you greet family?"

"How," stammered Knut, "how do you know my name?" The grip on his shovel was white-knuckled. Hiccup eyed the sword in his hand nervously.

The corpse made an angry noise and raised its hands again. "I know all about youuu, nephew," it shrieked. "I know a Gronkle head-butted you in the fanny during dragon training and you couldn't sit for a week! I know all about that book of poetry you thought you'd hidden. It was terrible! Nothing rhymes with orange! Stop trying!"

"Shut up!" Hiccup shouted at it. "Knut's sorry. Aren't you?" He prodded the boy's shoulder. "Aren't you?"

Knut decided he was. "Yes, yes!" He threw down the shovel. "Take it back! The pox and the acne!"

"Well, I don't know if I should," the corpse sniffed. "I was going to come back to life so I could share with you the mysteries of the universe on the eve of your wedding, but now I don't think I want to. I might just haunt you for eternity."

"Of course you won't," Astrid snarled at it. "He's family. Remember?"

Hiccup struggled to maintain control. "I think he wants to help you," he said in a calming tone he'd used on skittish dragons before. "Isn't that what ancestors do?"

"Kids these days," muttered the body. "You come and dig me up and take my sword and you hit me with a shovel. Ungrateful brat."

Finally dropping the sword, Knut clapped his hand to his mouth. "I'm so sorry. Please don't curse my kids."

The corpse crossed its arms. "I'll think about it."

"Did you have any questions for your uncle, Knut?" Hiccup prompted, still using his most placid voice. By this point he'd usually gotten the dragon to ease its hackles.

Knut tried to compose himself, and stared wildly as he tried to formulate a query. "Um—what's the secret to life?"

"A brayette. Next."

In the background Hiccup threw up his hands.

"How can I be a good husband?"

"Let her win some of the arguments," the corpse advised. "But not so many that she suspects you're letting her win."

Astrid narrowed her eyes. Hiccup turned his eyes to the heavens and twiddled his thumbs. By his thoughtful expression it was clear that Knut was storing this tidbit away for future consideration.

"Last question," Hiccup coughed.

Thinking for a moment, Knut asked, "What's it like to die?"

"If it were fun, I'd have done it twice."

That was that. Hiccup clapped his palms with enthusiasm. "Isn't that great? You got to meet your ancestor. Special. But you should be getting to bed now, you have a big day ahead of you." Turning to the corpse he said, "Thanks for visiting, Uncle Spadding. Go back to uh, ghost land."

"Sorry to wake you," Knut called over his shoulder as Snotlout and Fishlegs began steering him away.

Once they were out of earshot, Hiccup leaned over and put his hands on his knees. Astrid lowered her head and slanted a hard look at the corpse. "You were this close," she pinched the air to illustrate, "to getting hit with a shovel again. Nobody told you to talk!"

"I was giving him the full experience. He really buys into it now."

Laughter erupted from behind a grave some yards back. Ruffnut stood up, as best she could while wheezing her hilarity. Tuffnut rubbed chalk dust from his face and clambered from the grave pit. They all worked to fill in the cavity with earth again, and patted down the top. Hiccup looked at the rock he'd quickly engraved earlier that day, and bid farewell to the Uncle Spadding that never was.

The twins loped ahead as they started back, bickering and shoving each other. When Tuffnut had volunteered to get buried alive, Hiccup had had his doubts until Ruffnut assured him that it wouldn't be the first time she'd interred him six feet under. Not daring to ask, Hiccup agreed. Of any of them, Knut had the least interaction with Tuffnut and would be less likely to recognize him than anyone else. Ruffnut had stayed out of sight so her presence wouldn't cause Knut to recall her twin and wonder where he was. They'd covered Tuffnut up just before Hiccup and Knut reached the cemetery, to ensure he had enough time to breathe.

Astrid noticed that Hiccup was having a little trouble with his hip and held out her arm. He took it gratefully.

"So, everytime someone dumps their problem in your lap, are you going to chase down a Boneknapper or fake an ancestor's ghost or do something else really crazy?" Astrid asked conversationally.

Hiccup blew out his breath. "Probably."

"Good." Astrid kissed his cheek.

They drifted to a stop in the cemetery. Hiccup stared down at the headstone he'd paused at. For a minute neither said anything. He became aware of how quiet this place was at night, how far removed from the life and light of the village. It saddened him a little.

"Did you know her at all?" Astrid asked softly. He shook his head.

Valhallarama had died when Hiccup was an infant, unable to withstand the illness that had swept the village that winter. Not two months after becoming a father, Stoick had become a widower. And he had remained one since, never remarrying.

From what he had gleaned from Gobber and rare, brief conversations with his dad, Hiccup knew Valhallarama to have been a stalwart, warm woman with strength to spare. Much as he resembled Stoick (in coloring if not build), he did not expect he took after her much in looks.

It was odd, never having a mother. She'd died before he'd understood her place in his life. Growing up, mothers were something you knew other people had, but you didn't. Hiccup remembered his left foot. Sometimes he even felt phantom sensations from the part of the limb that was no longer there. He remembered running and swimming without tiring from the weight in his leg. He had not known his mother and so could not remember her; he feared at times this meant he couldn't miss her.

Suddenly he badly missed Toothless and wanted to be in bed. They kept walking.

Some part of Hiccup had hoped that Grima would appear overnight, fresh from her sojourn at the shrines, but it wasn't to be. He would have to go ahead with the ceremony himself.

Birgit did, in fact, have a script. She handed it over and after reviewing it Hiccup automatically made some revisions.

They gathered at the front of Berk, that bit which came closest to the sea. Stoick had once compared land to a Viking's bones, and the sea was its blood. Salty as the people of Berk were, Hiccup could half believe it.

Knut and Halfrid emerged from their respective homes, skin pink from the vigorous scrubbings that had been inflicted upon them. Everyone else looked rather nice too, with plaits redone and beards de-bugged. Hiccup himself wore pretty much his normal clothing, having no desire to don the robe Grima usually wore to these things.

Astrid looked very pretty in her linen dress, not a skull to be found on her. So did Ruffnut.

When everyone had arranged themselves they looked expectantly to Hiccup. He cleared his throat nervously and indicated for them to exchange their gifts. Big Tug had cobbled together a fairly impressive dowry in the short amount of time he'd been given. Finally they exchanged swords and rings. Halfrid's sword was a handsome one that shone in the daylight, but Knut was equally proud as he gave her the one he'd excavated the night before. Hiccup carefully studied the ground.

It turned out he had to say very little. Knut and Halfrid did most of the talking. She spoke her vows clearly and firmly, and he shyly but with great joy. Big Tug was clearly pleased with his new son-in-law for having gone to such effort to unearth a respectable sword.

Hiccup felt a little sorry for the deception, but it was for the best. And besides, Knut had been the first to lie.

After the ceremony everybody started to rush to the great-hall for the feast. Hiccup lingered behind as Astrid and Ruffnut came up to him, and together they walked more slowly.

"You survived your first challenge as chief," said Astrid smiling. "How's it feel?"

"I feel hungry."

Note:

This turned out a little longer than I'd intended. I thought about splitting this up into two chapters, but decided it worked better as one piece. It seemed interesting to challenge Hiccup with a little domestic adventure first. Toothless was a little absent in this chapter but he'll be featured more.

I looked up Viking culture and traditions, and tried to stick close to them for the most part but took some liberties as well.

Reviews are appreciated!