Chapter 2

The Return journey

By the time they managed to fashion a few ships from the wreckage, left by the battle, the sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon. Stoick still sat in the mouth of a small cave cradling hiccups cold body to his chest.

His tears had long since dried and numbness had crept in to replace it. His limbs felt like rocks, weighting him down like anchors. He didn't have the will power to move, he couldn't even muster the will power to speak when Gobber approached, inquiring after his health.

He just sat there, letting it all sink in. Somehow the fact that his son was dead still didn't seem real, even though he held his still form in his arms. Like if he just allowed himself to close his eyes and sleep that he would wake up still in his house back on Berk eating breakfast, with Hiccup eating silently across the table from him.

They'd had many morning like that, just eating silently, awkwardly avoiding the others gaze. Only now did Stoick realize just how wrong he'd been. Maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better father, been more attentive and understanding, maybe then his son wouldn't be lying dead in his lap.

Stoick was shaken from his thoughts as he felt a heavy hand rest on his large shoulder. Looking up, his eye's meet with the sad gaze of the blacksmith, Gobber.

"We're ready ta ship out Stoick." He said in a gruff voice indicating that he to had been crying. Looking at his Chief, and best friend, Gobber could see the emotional turmoil in his eyes, He'd never seen his friend look so down cast, not even when his wife had left. Not knowing what else to do Gobber straightened and cleared his throat "whenever yer ready " and with that he turn and walked back to the shore line.

Stoick slowly began pick himself up off the ground, which proved to be difficult when he didn't have the use of one of his arms, seeing as one of them was still clasping hiccup to chest. As he finally got to his feet he felt one of his legs give out underneath him from having been sitting on it for hours. His hold on hiccup began to loosen has he felt his large body begin to fall back to meet the earth. However his dissent was halted when he felt the large head of toothless catch him under his arm, pushing him back up on to his feet.

The chief had just about forgotten the dragon's presence while he sat in the cave; however the creature had not once left his side.

"Thank you" he whispered, feeling genuinely grateful for the creature's quick reaction. After all if he fell he might have dropped hiccup.

Righting himself, and readjusting his hold on hiccup, Stoick walked slowly down the shoreline to where the ships lay waiting in the shallow water.

At a distance the ships seemed fine but upon close examination Stoick could see just how damaged the vessels were. The patches were made out of every material the Viking had managed to salvage, some were even large scales left over from the queen. Without the patches Stoick imagined the haul would have looked similar to swish cheese, now it looked like the front of an apron after years of wear and tear with all its patches, like metals of honor. Stoick was surprised they were even floating.

"Don't worry". Gobber said hobbling up the stoicks side. "They may look ruff but they'll do the job fine."

"Are you sure that they can handle every ones weight.". Stoick said, giving the patches a suspicious glance.

"bout half of the men 'ave already been taken away by dragon, were all that's left, so it shouldn't be a problem." Gobber said with a sign his voice betraying his exhaustion.

Stoick all of a sudden felt very guilty. As he got a better look at his men he could see just how tired they all were. After all they'd spent the last day building and repairing the ships while he'd sat there and felling sorry for himself.

Hanging his head and avoiding the eyes of his men he trudged forward onto the ship, the boards creaking under foot.

Stick walked to the front of the vessel Staring out at the sea, looking past the large black claw like rocks that were jutting out of the eerily still water. Everything was silent for a moment as the Viking watched their chief with quiet sympathy waiting for orders.

The whole world seemed to capture the chiefs mood. The atmosphere was thick with it. The water began to lick furiously at the boat as if it to felt the chief's pain, crying out in protest at the loss of the young dragon rider.

Stoick let a small tear fall form his still swollen eyes, letting it roll down his cheek to fall with a silent splash upon the wooden floor of the ship.

He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, gazing out at the ocean, his son in his arms, dragon at his side. Minutes passed before the chief seemed to return to reality, and his shoulders noticeably straightened before sagging once again as he let out a large sign.

Without turning he cleared his throat and, with a gruff voice, he finally spoke "Set sail…were going home." And within moments the ship slowly drifted out to sea, zigzagging through the claws of the nest as it began its journey back to Berk.

By the time they docked their ships back at Berk's harbor it was midday. The villagers that had stayed behind filled the docks as they rushed to assist the returning warriors and aid the remaining wounded.

Stoick made to leave the ship but before he could step one foot onto the docks he heard a sharp gasp followed by several more raise out of the crowd. Their eye's widened and many moved their hands to their backs and hips to grab weapons that were hanging from various buckles and latches.

Stoick, surprised by the sudden hostility turned to follow their gaze. As soon as he did though his surprise was instantly smothered out as he saw whom the hostility was aimed at. Toothless was standing behind him, looking around at all the vikings with caution as he kept his distance from the dock.

Realizing that they might not know about what had occurred at the nest he opened his mouth to reassure the villagers, however was cut off by a voice from the crowd.

"Chief Stoick, the nightfury has gotten loose!" One particularly frightened Viking shouted while raising an axe high above his head ready to strike in case the dragon thought to make a move on his chief.

"Put that down ya twit." Gobber said exasperated. "this dragon doesn mean any harm."

"how could you possibly know that." The Viking returned, his eye's narrowing in suspicion as he continued to gaze at the dragon, not averting his eyes even when the creature's large yellow saucers meet his own and letting out a low growl. Many of the other Viking began to mutter their agreements of the Viking sentiments, their voices rising to a loud roar of collective voices.

"Because he saved our lives." Stoick said raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony of voices. "You will show him respect." He finished with more ferocity in his voice then he meant but it had the desired effect.

The crowd went silent in an instant as they stared with wide mouths at their chief's words. Stoick The Vast who hated dragons, stoick who had made it his life mission to destroy the nest, stoick who had shunned his own blood for befriending a dragon, was now defending a nightfury.

Of course they had been told by the other teens about the events that had transpired at the nest but many still had doubts about the dragons, how could they turn around, after all the destruction they'd caused, and call them friends. It was impossible. But here was Stoick, the one man they thought would never change, proving them wrong.

With stunned Silence they watched as their chief made his way down the dock, parting to let him, and the dragon, though. It was only then that People began to notice the form curled up their chiefs large arms.

Astrid and the other rides had returned riding on their dragons a day ago and had told them of the young Vikings passing and of his noble sacrifice. How Hiccup had died defending a village full of people that had done nothing but treat him with cruelty his entire life. They couldn't bring themselves to look Stoick in the eye as he passed, holding the limp body of his son in his arms. The man looked destroyed, like he'd had the weight of the world on his shoulders and had been crushed by it. His eyes were swollen and red, and his complexion was almost as pale as the boy's in his arms.

Guilt permeated the air, like a smoke, making it hard to breath. The villagers hung their heads low in shame, watching their chief ascend the stairs from the docks into Berk, the dragon shadowing him closely all the way.

Stoick pushed through more onlookers as he made his way to the funeral house, the village elder already waiting for him at the doors to the building.

She regarded her chief with empathy in her aged eyes, wisdom and experience swirling in her dark irises. If anyone understood his pain then it would be her. She'd lost her daughter during a particularly bad raid a few years ago.

Stoick followed the short elderly women into the large wooden cabin like structure without so much as a word exchanged between them. Then, following her lead he placed Hiccup's body on the long table covered with a large black wool blanket that had the Berk crest knitted into it in red.

Stoick straightened the body out so that hiccup lay on his back instead of his side, and straightened his limbs so that they were neatly positioned at his side.

After he finished he gazed down at his son, it was only then that he realized just how much hiccups appearance had changed.

He was still covered in scratches but the blood had become hard and crusted, cracks spread over the dark splotches like a spider web. His skin had taken a frighteningly gray tone instead of the healthy pink tone he had one sported. His face looked sunken in and his body temperature had dropped so low that Stoick felt like he was touching an ice cube. And the smell.

Stoick hadn't noticed it before but the spot where hiccups leg had been severed was beginning to rot, which caused a smell that was so foul it stung his eyes and almost made him want to wretch.

Stoick had to cover his mouth with his hand so as to prevent himself from breaking down again. It was only then that the fact Hiccup was dead had final became real to him, seeing his son laying on the table ready to be prepped for his Viking sendoff was the final nail in the coffin., as the cold reality of it all finally sunk in.

He didn't cry or shout. When the elder took his hand in her own frail ones he glanced down at her, and there he saw what he needed. It wasn't forgiveness, or pity, no nothing of that sort; he didn't deserve to be forgiven. It was . She didn't look at him with guilt like the others, which was good because he didn't want to hear any half assed apologies, the ones that people sloppy strung together in an attempt to absolve themselves. What he wanted was someone to share in his pain, to understand.

Stoick stood there for a moment just allowing himself to fell, tuning everything else out as he concentrated on his emotions, allowing them to swirl around inside him and coil around his heart like a chain. Steeling himself for what he had to do next.

Then silently he let go of the elder's hand, turned and left.

She stared after him remembering her own pain as she watched stoick walk, like he was in a daze, toward the great hall.

End Chapter 2

Thank you so, so, so much for the reviews and follows. You don't understand how much I appreciate it. I know the chapter is on the short side but don't worry I've got plans for this story so hang in there. :)

Review Responses

To DoomsdaybeamXD:

Thank you so much, it's my first fanfiction so I'm really glad that you enjoy it, it was alot of fun to write so it's good to know my time was well spent. :)

To Rhyssie Lanchance :

Thanks for the advice I really appreciate it. I tried to pace it out better this time so i hope it's an improvement.

To nerdycartooncharacter:

Thank You I'm glad you think so, I'm planning to post a chapter a week so hopefully, if all goes well, you wont have to wait to long for each release. :)

To johnnylee619 :

Thank you I'm glad you like it :)