Disclaimer: HTTYD and its repsective characters does not belong to me
All other characthers are indeed property of the author
"This is a wonderful village!" Ilias cried out, "Do you not agree Decessus?"
After finishing what felt like the fiftieth set of stairs in Berk; he glared at Ilias and replied, "No."
The duet followed Stoic, Hiccup and Toothless up the village and the group began to wander through every possible alleyway and corner to receive the "tour." The group stopped for little quips about the family that lived inside the house, how many (if any) dragons have been slain by the family, and the occasional question from Ilias.
"You said that there have been seven generations in these houses?" Ilias asked tapping a cottage wall with his finger.
"Yes, that is true." Stoic replied.
"Then why do these buildings look newly constructed?" He asked sneaking a finger behind his turban to scratch his scalp.
"Ever since our ancestors settled here, we had been at war with the dragons."
"And yet your son is at peace with one?" Decessus skeptically asked.
"But my boy and his dragon brought us to the heart of the war: a massive beast called the Green Death that commanded the other wild dragons into pillaging our livestock and destroying our tribe. Have you seen a volcano before?"
"Yes, many times." Decessus responded before Ilias could conjure up some tale of exploring the Aegean Sea.
"Imagine a dragon," Stoic paused to relive the day he first saw the Green Death, "that can fit inside a volcano as if it were a shell."
"That's…massive," He said in awe.
"But Hiccup here," taking his son's shoulder and shaking him, "killed the beast!"
"That is amazing!" Ilias joyously shouted, flailing his arms while still cradling the mystic shell. "I cannot wait to tell the Caliphate that I had the honor of meeting a Chieftain whose son slain such a horrific beast! What a tale! We only have a thousand, and a repeat of the first, tales that have now become worn, dry, and unsurprising; much like fruit or an aged harem."
"Yup, and we've all become very proud of him." Stoic said admiring his son. Hiccup looked up to his father and felt a radiating glow of pride fill his heart. A smile curled up from his face and returned to mindlessly scratch Toothless's ebony scales.
"This is the village center," Stoic stated as the group approached the area. Stores and houses surrounded the square to create many alleyways and roads in every direction possible. "Wherever you turn there will be a skilled craftsman or craftswoman in their workshop. Each person has enough experience in their trade and combat to earn their keep and share of wealth. Because this is the heart of the village market, you may establish your trade post here."
"Many thanks Stoic the Vast. Are any of these craftsmen specialists?" Ilias asked.
"Of course! Anywhere you go; children are receiving their father's experience who have learned from their grandfathers who have learned from their great grandfathers and so on."
"So, is it possible that I may go to any person and ask them to make their finest quality craft and expect it to be everything I hope it to be?" Ilias questioned.
"I don't see why not?"
"Then I accept your challenge!" Ilias boomed. He bounced around the square looking for an idle person so he may question them. He eventually found a Viking sitting down and enjoying the midday sunshine; with haste he ran over to the warrior and held the shell in the space separating them. He then asked kindly, "pardon me sir what is your name?"
"Hoskuld"
"Hoskuld?" The Viking nodded his head to confirm Ilias's pronunciation. "Yes, Hoskuld may I inquire to what is your trade?"
"I'm a healer of soles," Hoskuld pridefully stated.
"Oh! Well, my accompaniment," pointing to Decessus, "has endured a rather tiring voyage in his age and now his soul is exhausted, weathered, and callous." He glowered at the explorer with the last comment. "What do you believe you can accomplish?"
"Well," the man analyzed over Decessus mentally preparing a diagnostic, "I suggest a new pair. Perhaps with some tanned leather," he added.
"You…you are not a medicine man are you? Ilias inquired suspiciously.
"I am but a cobbler."
"Oh, well thank you." Ilias walked away, a blush darkening his wood colored skin. When he returned to the party he stretched out the folds in his face and attempted to return to his valiant and bright composure. Finishing the emotional cleansing, Decessus sneered at the elder wearing a look that silently said, "you idiot, you just made a bigger fool out of yourself before you told them about the time you tried to ride a peacock."
"Stoic," Decessus asked from behind the leader. "Where is your house in all of this? I think your men would like to stop hauling our luggage." Stoic peered backwards and saw the band of men slightly reddened and sweaty.
"Why must you be so impatient?" Ilias complained as he reentered the front of the group. "I have more questions about Berk and we have not even witnessed the forest or mountains!"
"Actually," Stoic began watching a fellow Viking set down a bag to wipe the sweat on his brow. "I think he may be right. Hiccup, you lead our other guest and the men to the house. I'll be there once as I finish with Ilias."
"Sure Dad." Hiccup waved his hand and called the remaining tribesmen forward.
As they all walked up a greater incline of Berk, Decessus paid little attention to the beauty of the Earth and nature. He simply marched up the slope passing every Viking only to stay behind Hiccup.
"Where's your house?" Decessus asked when was next to the boy.
"It's up there," he pointed. They both looked to see the meager home and continued, "it's not much but home is home; you know?"
"I guess." They all arrived at the home and Hiccup said his goodbyes and thanks to the men. They nodded their heads, mumbled in gratitude, and left the belongings on the ground outside the house. But Decessus patiently waited for Hiccup to open the front door (as is tradition for a guest to be lead by the host) while he played momentarily with Toothless.
Looking up from his best friend, Hiccup quizzically asked, "do you want to just, you know, put your stuff inside the house?"
"It would be rude without my host letting me in."
Hiccup recognized the unsaid request and opened the door for him. Decessus then picked up one of the crates that were laid down by the men and walked inside.
Internally, Decessus admired the humble house. No massive Ionian columns, no lion headed fonts, and no trapdoors to keep the prisoners. It reminded him of a simpler time, a time when he could enjoy life and the life he had, and served no man but himself. But to Hiccup, his eyes were sharp and searched for a flaw in the space while his face was a dam holding back his criticism; he felt ashamed and embarrassed as not a single positive word left the visitor's mouth that could describe his home. A man's home is his castle, but what if that castle means nothing? Does that mean he is worth nothing? Does that mean he is nothing? He vowed that he could never return to that state of existence, and inwardly cursed himself for not being more charismatic, intelligent, or strong. If not to impress Decessus, then to impress himself and believe that he tried; but there was only silence. Toothless could feel the self-loathing and stepped forward to nuzzle him. Although he felt calmer, he could still never feel at ease with those grey eyes silently judging his people and him. Looking up and down the small living room Decessus asked, "Where will Ilias sleep and where will I sleep?"
"Uhh, we only have one guest room," Hiccup said sheepishly.
"Deus save me." He sighed and picked up the second crate and said, "Thank you though. Where is the room again?"
"Down that hallway, and to the left." Decessus took a crate and walked into the guest room. Placing it by the window on the opposite side of the door, he internally noted that the room had one bed but it was slightly larger than the ship cabin. One person had to sleep on the floor, and by default it would be him, but he would have to sleep on the floor comfortably; somehow. He went back to retrieve the last crate and when he returned to the room Hiccup was sitting on the single bed and asked, "how, can you still speak to me without that shell?"
Placing it by the other crate, he responded only satisfy Hiccup's curiosity. "I have one of my own." He took out a white shell the size of a date and showed it to him. "It's smaller but it still works because Latin, my native language, is the root of all Northern languages: including yours. Ilias needs a bigger shell because his language does not derive or relate to your language."
"Oh, "he saw the mercenary's hand reach out and he placed the shell back in his palm even though he was not finished studying it. "Well what kind of shell is this?"
"In all truth, this is not really a shell; but more of a fragment that happens to look like a shell." He then left the room but yelled out, "But it is called a Babble shell because a fish, whose habitat was near a structure once called the Tower of Babel, used the tower's broken pieces as shells. Sometime later some explorers found the remains of the tower and realized that it could take any language and convert it so the user can understand and be understood." He returned with all the bags on his arms and shoulders, never looking at Hiccup, and continued the conversation. "But the pieces only have the power to translate as much as it knows. The bigger it is the better it is."
Taking a risk, Hiccup chortled, "it's not the size that counts; it's how many counted it."
"That," he said while looking up from his labor, "was impressive. May I open a window?"
"It snows for nine months and hails for the other three, you sure?"
"Well," he said looking out the round window, "it's not snowing or hailing now."
"Go ahead then."
"Decessus!" The sound of Ilias's aged voice rang throughout the abode. "We have returned, and what an excursion! It was indeed quite the expedition. I must forever commit this to memory so we may tell the Caliphate later."
"Hiccup? Where are you?" Stoic's voice resonated from the living room.
"I'm in the guest room!"
"Decessus! Have you unpacked the luggage and crates yet?
"You can do that on your own," he replied as he entered the living room. "I don't want you to become choleric because I opened your prayer rug the wrong way."
Surprised, Ilias said, "thank you then for respecting my privacy."
Stoic then interrupted the two by asking, "would you two like to have dinner with my boy and me?"
Ears perking up behind his turban, "yes of course! We are bound by our hosts to enjoy every possible opportunity for hospitality."
"But," Decessus stepped in between the two, "before that we need to finish unpacking."
"That can wait Decessus," Ilias calmly rebuked.
"No, it cannot." He then dragged Ilias into the guest room forgetting to excuse himself of the company. Once inside and closing the door, he began to admonish the elder. "Ilias, we need to start using these people for our advantage! Any more wasted time on shoe cobblers-"
"We have time on our side," he said peacefully, "have faith."
"No," he said enraged by the aged. "The world is made by men who take their own destinies into their own hands. We must act now instead of asking and hoping that we will receive some revelation that will lead us to the Rage."
"Then what do you propose Decessus?"
"We go to their libraries and see if they have any maps cataloging the upper seas and anything else that may give us an inkling about the Rage. Perhaps they have witnessed it and they did not understand what they saw, so they may have recorded it in a story or journal."
"Yes," Ilias pondered aloud, "that may just work."
"No, it shall work."
The two exited the room to find Stoic and Hiccup both sitting on a couch while Toothless rested his a wing on Hiccup. It was clear that they were both in their own worlds.
"Excuse me Stoic the Vast and Hic-cough," Ilias said to reel them back into reality. "May I ask you a question?"
Suddenly aware, both shouted "okay" only seconds apart.
"Where is your athenaeum?"
"Our what?" Stoic said still trying to replay the question in his mind.
"Your bibliotheca."
"What?" Hiccup asked.
"Your library." Ilias said with a hint of irritation.
"The place where you store scrolls and books and papers." Decessus defined in annoyance.
"Oh! You want books!" Stoic exclaimed. "Okay, Hiccup can you get the books?"
He ran up the set of stairs and returned with only five moderately sized books and placed them on the table by Ilias and Decessus.
"This is it." Hiccup said.
"Are you positive?"
"We, never really had time for writing," Stoic said bashfully. "Dragon war and all that. But we're writing more now that we have time!"
"Are they now finished?"
"Well, they're still on the drawing board," Hiccup shyly admitted.
"Many thanks Stoic the Vast and Hic-cough." Ilias said as he bowed from the waist up.
"If you need anything, I shall be in the mess hall preparing the feast for our guests. It's the biggest building in Berk, you can't miss it."
"Thank you! I shall take upon myself to satisfy that offer if the time comes. We shall be our quarters reading these fine books." Decessus took the small pile of books and both left the father, son, and creature and began to read in their temporary bedroom. Ilias closed the door while Decessus set the pile on a nearby night stand. With bravado, he took a book with a red cover and opened it.
But when Decessus opened the first page of he was assaulted by lines and incoherent scrawl. He stumbled backwards as the strokes made columns and rows that looked like the other columns and rows on the page. He turned to the next and the next but he was attacked by a language that was completely foreign to him. "This is impossible, I can't read pictographs or hieroglyphics and I certainly cannot read whatever this is."
"We must find a pattern," Ilias said as he turned the book upside down and then right side up. "Language revolves around patterns. If we find the pattern-"
"But we don't have time for that and we don't have time to have a translator tell us what these say verbally" he angrily said slamming the book closed and dropping it hastily to the floor.
"Then we must learn the language," he rebutted while closing the book.
"Do we have time?"
"If we believe it to be, then it shall be."
"But how?"
"From this moment and onwards, we must learn the language and refuse to use the shells."
"Can we learn fast enough?" Decessus asked doubtfully.
"I educated myself in Latin days before I met you and utilizing the origin of all Northern languages, we should be able to learn to read and speak faster than had we not been trained in Latin."
"When shall we start?"
"Perhaps tomorrow, no we shall begin tonight," he said with conviction. "The village is hosting a feast in our honor and that shall be an excellent opportunity to begin our education. We may only be able to inquire about specific words and rules of speech and it is very likely that we shall only learn the basics."
"And we can use what we learned to begin translation the following morning."
"I shall continue to interact with the others and attempt to expand my vocabulary and tenses and by the midday I should have complete mastery over this language."
"Can you accomplish such a feat?"
Looking out the window still holding the book he stated, "if we believe it to be, then it shall be."
It was that time of day when Hiccup and Toothless would go flying but neither felt the urge to go into the skies. To them, flight was a gift that should be enjoyed and never forced; and so on days where there was no want or desire, they would go to their little hiding spot and enjoy each other's company. On their way to the canyon, Toothless sensed someone.
"Hey, what is it bud?"
Toothless only craned his head around and began running through the forest.
"Whoa! Hang on! I can't keep up!"
When he finally caught up to his friend, his heart plummeted to his gut.
Sitting on a log was Decessus reading and writing something. He stood up and walked over to the creek to wash his hands and sat back down. Hiccup felt dread around him, and to be intruded in his personal haven (even though it was far from the glade that he and Toothless shared) was torture.
"I know you're there. So just stop hiding and go away. I'm busy." Decessus irately called out.
He was scrutinized, shamed, embarrassed, and now insulted. What pride Hiccup earned meant nothing to the stranger. And that infuriated him.
"No!" He shouted as he emerged from the brush.
"What? Oh Hiccup." Decessus said deflatedly.
"This is my place! My home!" He continued to yell as he approached the mercenary. "You don't have the-"
"Can you help me with something?"
"What?" A look of confusion spread throughout his face mid-tirade. His body sagged and softened as the rage that inflated him vanished into the forest air.
"Look, I can't understand your language. Can you help me? I need to translate your books and I have not a clue on how to begin. And I only have until tonight's feast, because after that no one will be able to speak coherently let alone teach an entire language. And you look like the person who prefers to understand things rather than to kill things mindlessly. And I'm in no mood to ask that Fishlegs boy to explain the language. He," pausing for a moment, "bothers me. So will you help me?"
"Uhh, sure?" Still suspicious of his intentions.
"Is that a question or an answer?"
"Yes," Hiccup said, "Yes, I'll help you."
"Thanks, so start with the basics." Toothless no longer sensing the anger and frustration that led him to the creek, spread his body in a spot where the sunshine sneaked through the branches and slept knowing his master had pride.
The lesson was productive enough so Decessus could read, write, and speak simple sentences in the Viking language. Realizing that the feast was about to begin in an hour, they all left the creek at sunset. But the voyage out of the forest took longer because of Hiccup's prosthesis and the resting that he needed to relax the pain.
The moon was high and Decessus followed Hiccup and Toothless through the night village. Tiny candles flickered from the insides of houses while stars flickered above the Earth. The usual sounds of the alehouse were gone and the usual elders who spent the night reminiscing of the past were nowhere to be seen. But they approached a sound unlike anything Decessus ever heard. To Decessus, it reminded him of the bathing houses but worse. When they approached the sound Decessus saw a massive building far larger than the chieftain's house. Hiccup and Toothless both pushed the large wooden doors and a rush of sounds and smells overwhelmed the trio.
The stench of meat and mead mixed with each other while the noise of conversations and laughter layered on top of each other. It was nothing less than an flood of the senses.
"Come here!" Stoic bellowed above the crowd. "Sit with my boy and me and we'll have you something to drink and eat!"
"Yes! Do take your place with Stoic the Vast," Ilias cried from a circular table. "You may seat yourself by me Decessus!"
The three made their way to the father and elder whose shell sat on the table infront of him. Decessus sat in between Ilias and Hiccup and Toothless curled around the round table and rested his head by Hiccup's prosthetic leg. "Have you learned anything yet Ilias?" Decessus asked.
"Quite in fact, yes I have! Do watch!" He took the shell and brushed something above it away. His brows defined and sharpened as he tried to make words leave his mouth. "This," Ilias patting the table, "is a tablet."
"No, it's the table" Stoic corrected for what sounded like the umpteenth time.
"Table," he said slowly to correct himself, "and this," he said holding a loaf of bread, "is beard."
"Bread." He corrected again in irritation.
"Bread, thank you, and this!" he said loudly while holding a wet fish, "is fashion!"
"Fish."
"Fash."
"Oh Deus," Decessus said with a smile.
"Well, it would entertain me to see you speak this language!"
"Fine then." He first took out the little shell in his tunic and brushed away an invisible cloud. He then grabbed random objects on the table and pronounced with perfect clarity as he held each one in front of Ilias, "spoon, cup, mead, hand." Then he began to point at objects and say more complex words such as, "chandelier, fireplace, support beam," and looking over to Hiccup, "virgin."
Hiccup's jaw dropped to the floor but Ilias, ever the optimist, swept some imaginary air back over to the shell and cheerfully cried, "Decessus! This is fantastic! You clearly have a control over this language! Tomorrow you shall begin reading and translating the few books that we have and I shall continue to practice. We are now closer to our goal!"
Ilias grabbed a small cup of mead and shouted, "fruor nostrum preteritus prosperitas quod fruor Decessus!"
Decessus raised his eyebrow suspiciously and responded, "it should actually be 'fruor nostrum posterus prosperitas quod fruor Decessus."
Ilias frowned and said to him, "لمجرد باسمكم يعني الموت لا يعني أنك تستطيع أن نتألم من الحياة."
"And now you realize that?" He sipped his cup of mead and commented on how nice the finish was of the mead. But threats aside, the feast was enjoyed by all.
But somewhere far off in the ocean, something began burning in silent fury.
A/N: So yeah, it's not at that point where we see less OC's and more Cannon characters yet because I'm still explaining things. But none the less, a massive thank you to A Frumious Bandersnatch for being so active with this story! Please remeber to Rate and Review! Feedback is always nice! (PS Try putting Ilias's line in an arabic translator! He's very nasty to poor Decessus)
