Disclaimer:
I do not own How to train your dragon, all rights to the characters belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.
Chapter 3: Do we deserve to be saved?
Stoick pushed open the large wooden door to the great hall. Walking in he noticed that most of the village had already gather inside and were scattered around the large room, talking amongst themselves in small groups.
As he walked toward the center of the room several people began to take notice of the chief's presence. They turn watching, talking in hurried whispers and murmurs, which quickly turned to silence as the chief gazed around the room.
A long pregnant silence filled the air as they all stood, regarding the chief. However a few voice began to rise above the crowd breaking through the silence to cascade along the walls.
"Chief Stoick, what do we do now?"
"Are the dragons really gone?"
"What about the Nightfury?"
"Is Hiccup really dead?"
Many more voice began to rise in unison, voicing similar concerns; the volume kept rising until it became a cacophony of sound, indistinguishable to the chief's ears.
Stoick waited patiently for the voices to settle, and die down. However his silence was only meet with more questions and the volume rose impossibly higher.
Irritated, Stoick took a large breath in, letting his lungs fill to capacity. Then, raising his voice so he could be heard above the chaos, he shouted, "SILENCE!" letting his air fuel his words. His voice was booming, reverberating around the room, and any and all who had been talking quickly shut their mouths, effectively silencing the room once more.
"I will answer yer questions, but one at a time." Stoick said rubbing his temple with his thumb and forefinger as if to dispel a headache.
Walking to the front of the room, he hoisted himself up to stand on top of one of the large oak tables, so he could be heard and seen above the crowd.
"Now, I will start with the few questions I heard." Stoick said with a sign. "yes, the dragons are gone. As I'm sure you've heard by now, the nest was emptied when my son faced the queen…..Hiccup…he …..sacrificed himself …."
There was a long pause after he mentioned Hiccup, talking about him brought back so much pain. The images from the funeral home all came flooding back, the agony filled his chest, threatening to over flow.
Stoick struggled to regain his composer as fresh tears rimmed his already swollen eyes. For the first time in his career as a chief, he felt helpless.
He was on the verge of yet another break down until a small pressure was felt on his shoulder Gobber's heavily callused hand lay there, like an anchor, pulling him back down from his despair and allowing him to refocus. A small smile of reassurance graced the aged blacksmiths face as Stoick turned to meet his gaze.
Stoick once again felt grateful for his old friends presence, realizing just how much he relayed on him to keep himself together. Gobber was like his rock ever since his wife left, his constant presence was almost a necessity at times, and never was it more needed then in that moment.
Feeling marginally less defeated under his friend's support, he straightened his shoulders to once again address the patiently awaiting crowd.
"The Nightfury is to be left alone…." But before he could even finish talking several voices rose up in protest.
"Don't ye remember what it did to us?"
"It's too dangerous!"
"It's a beast, we should kill it!"
"I will not negotiate this!" Stoick raised his voice, his anger obvious in the tone. "That "beast" just saved half of this village, it deserves our respect!" narrowing his eyes to two cold slits as he addressed the few who had spoken out against his decision.
"However…." he said getting back on track "we don't know if the other dragons will return or if they will still be a threat, so we will need to set up some sort of watch out system."
"Who will inherit the chiefdom now?" A rough looking man toward the front of the crowd asked, but a look of regret crossed his ragged features at the cold glare the chief shot his way, barley contained rage festering behind his slipping composure.
How dare he, my son his dead for less than a week and their already trying to replace him. Stoick felt his hand ball into tight fists as he began to tremble slightly, his anger staring to leak out.
The atmosphere grew heavy as the crowd watched their chief with apprehension, the interaction much like a bear ready to attack his prey.
Stoick felt his anger fill him, replacing the emptiness that had been eating away at his soul. Just as he was preparing to punch the ignorant man in Helhims gate, the grip on his shoulder tightened uncomfortably. The sudden pain brought reality crashing back as he realized that he had been gripping the top of his axe that hung ready at his side.
Remembering himself, Stoick released his grip on the weapon and took in a deep breath to calm himself. Realizing that if Hiccup had not been his son and he was in the other man's position, he probably would have asked the same. After all it was a legitimate concern.
Raising his hand to his forehead Stoick rubbed his temple again, a headache really starting to settle in as exhaustion crept in. "I'll decide on the details later for now I have a funeral to get ready for."
And with that he stepped down from the table and exited the building, the crowd separating to let him through, as he made his way out in to the courtyard, and then straight to his now empty house.
After the chief had left the great hall and most of the villagers had filled out Astrid made to return home. She had been shocked at Stoick's behavior, one minute it looked like he might cry and the next he had been terrifying like a violent storm. She was sure that the chief was going to clobber the man, she now recognized as Spinthrust, after he had inquired about the inheritance.
She'd never seen the chief show so much emotion before, but then again who could blame him, after all he'd just lost his son. Spinthrust had been callous. She'd felt such rage toward the man that it surprised herself. After all she to had been amongst those who'd detested the young man. But even when there was so many that doubted him, even hated him, he'd still done the impossible and saved them all.
Looking up she realized that her feet had carried her in an unexpected direction as she found herself standing at the entrance to the funeral home.
The building was new, just like all the rest. Intricate carvings of Valhalla and the gods adorned the ribbon like planks of wood that rose up on either side of the build to cross over each other at the top, making shallow arches. The building was long and wide with no windows, keeping the sun out.
Until the war Berk had never had a funeral home, there hadn't been much of a reason for it. But with the drastic increase in the death rate, the village council had decided to build a house for the bodies to be kept in until a proper funeral could be held.
Astrid regarded the building with some hesitation, wondering if she even had the right to see Hiccup, after all what relationship did they have?
Walking forward she gentle wrapped her slim finger around the hand and pushed the door open slowly, as if to not alert anyone inside the building to her presence.
The room was dark, lite by only a few small candles near the back of the room, and as she closed the door behind her she had to wait for her eye's to adjust.
After a few minutes she began to make out shapes in the darkness, one of which looked like a lumpy mass sitting on top of a table near the back of the room. Walking closer to the table she gasped as she realized what the mass was.
Hiccup look even more frail and thin then she remembered. His shirt had been removed so his skin could be washed and what she saw shocked her. Pale graying skin was pulled tight over a disturbingly protruding rib cage. Dark bruises where blood had pooled under the skin, glared up at her, contrasting sharply against the pale complexion, like ink blots on a page. Deep gashes crisscrossed this way and that like claw marks, dried blood caking the edges. And even though incense were burning on the side table, the smell of decaying flesh could still be distinguished through the sweet scented smoke. It was almost enough to make her gage. She had to look away and focus on her breathing, look somewhere, anywhere but the body lying on the table.
After a few minutes Astrid finally managed to calm her stomach enough to gaze back at the body, this time making an effort to only look at the face, so as to prevent herself from retching.
His face had less damage then the rest of his body in that only one stretch adorned his face, running from his right cheek bone down to his jaw, and only a few small bruises were present.
His cheeks were sunken in and dark purple shadows rimmed the bottom of his closed eyes. Even his once chestnut brown hair seemed to have dulled in color.
Astrid raised her hand and hesitantly placed it on his cheek stroking it with her thumb. The skin was ice cold to the touch and she would have mistaken it for stone had she not been looking at him.
Then without warning tears came flooding out of the young girl's eyes.
"Oh Hiccup, what have we done to you." She whimpered into her hands as she used them to cover her face.
This was their fault, everyone's, including hers. If only they'd listened, if only they'd tried to understand. Even though she'd come around in the end did it really matter? After all she'd tried him no better than dirt his whole life, so what if she regretted it now? It didn't make a difference in the the end and it definitely wasn't making wasn't making one now.
The guilt felt like it was crushing her soul in a tight grip squeezing harder with each tear she shed. Did she even deserve to cry? After all she'd barely known him. It was just some way to make herself feel like a better person, that by feeling sorrow for his passing it would somehow absolve herself of her past wrong doings.
She felt so retched, how could she have stood by and let it happen, how could she join the others in tormenting someone to the point off breaking…..but she had, and because of that, that someone was lying dead on the table before her.
Why had he done it? Why, after all if it, did he decided to save them? It would have been easier for him to abandon them to their fate. He could have flown far away to land where no one knew him, and forgotten about the village full of stubborn Vikings, with words aimed to slaughter.
Yet he hadn't, and because of that they had all been saved.
Do we even deserve to be saved?
Glancing down at the body once more, tears long since dried, she uttered the words that her pride as not let her say before.
"I'm sorry, I'm so…so sorry, you were right…always were"
But what did it matter if she was sorry, saying it wouldn't breathe life into his lungs, wouldn't pump his now immobile heart, or make his blood flow once again. If it would she would say it over and over, as many times as it took for it all to be okay again, like it was supposed to be. But it wouldn't, instead the words fell from her mouth as useless as pearls in mud.
She sat there in silence and in that moment she realized something, Hiccup was the only man she could ever truly call a hero.
Chapter 3 end
YAY! another chapter down. :) I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter, works been pretty hectic. I meant to publish this yesterday but i was having some serious difficulty with writers block on some of it :(.Over all I'm happy with how most of it came out. Hopefully your not disappointed. Again i want to thank every one for all the favs, follows and reviews, it makes me so happy to know that people enjoy my writing :). To respond to a few reviews, when i say that this is not a character death in the summary I'm not lying (there have been a few people complaining about my summary) :P. i have plans for our young hero yet so be patient with me please :) So until next chapter Bye bye -tsuchihana