Once again I find myself with too much time coupled with my devout desire to sleep, yet being unable to do so. I have been told that the chapters need to be longer, therefore I will really try to lengthen it out this time. Please tell me your thoughts on this story, if its goodish, or if I'm just hopeless, I want to know. Hail Texas Roadhouse!

Italics = thoughts (just thought you'd want to know)

Karma: So what are you doing?

Me: I'm going into withdrawal! Leave me alone!

Karma: . . . why?

Me: because I own nothing!

Karma: not even the laptop?

Me: NOT EVEN THE FRIGGIN LAPTOP!

Hiccup sat at a table in the town hall, sipping on some dry ale. He never had a taste for the stuff, but figured "what the heck, maybe it will make the anxiety go". He thought back to his decision, calculating Karma's chance of survival, he was determined not to ask Fishlegs because he wanted to give his son the benefit of the doubt. He heard the tap of Gobber's peg leg on the cold stone floor as he neared and plopped down next to him.

"Never pegged you as the drinking type." Gobber stated flatly, trying to make conversation. Hiccup took another swig of his new friend, did it really taste that bad?

"Never pegged you as the caring type." He retorted just as bluntly, voice slightly slurred; he took another gulp, the liquor was starting to become more appealing. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and sighed.

"What am I going to do with him Gobber?" Hiccup asked, resigned. Internally smiling at the nostalgia of it, Gobber half wanted to say "put him in training with the others", but held himself back. He decided to get a mug of ale for himself, before concocting of a reply. He knew what Hiccup was thinking, his son was now a days trip away, in possible danger, and he was questioning whether it was the right thing to do.

"Well, if ya bring him back, he'll just start up his habits again. If ye leave him there, he'll probably get hurt; he's not the type to die though, its in his blood." Gobber pointed at Hiccup before continuing "A little scarring never hurt anyone, look at you. Look at me. The worst that can happen, is losin' a limb or two."

Not a very comforting thought for Hiccup, he wouldn't wish a lost leg on anyone especially his son. I should call the whole thing off, he thought to himself hopelessly before gulping down another mouthful of the tasty drink.

"Now I know what your thinkin', an' I know it sounds hopeless, but the truth is you won't always be around to protect him. He's going to get hurt at some point in his life, probably from his cruel jokes more than anything. The question is: do you want him to learn something from it?" Gobber quoted some of his old talk with Stoic, while changing some of it to fit their current predicament.

"What he did was wrong, you can't argue that, but letting him roam free is more of an enablement than anything. Doing it this way, he'll understand that dragons have a much shorter tolerance for this kind of behavior." Gobber finished his lecture with a long chug on his ale, lifting his hand-mug to accommodate.. Hiccup looked at the wooden hand and shuddered at the visualization of his son waving at him with a wooden arm just like it. He downed the rest of his cup.

(scene change)

I ran like a mad man, my breath already burning at my lungs. I wasn't as quiet as I had hope to be, my feet miraculously homing in on every stick and leaf in my path. I stopped in another clearing, and curled up next to a nearby boulder. Had it heard me? Was it coming? Oh-my-gosh what was that? Oh, whew, it was just me. I breathed in and out as silently as an air starved viking can, which is not very quiet at all. Okay now what kind of noises am I making now, 'cause last time I checked, vikings don't purr.

Wait, purr? . . . Ooh crap. I turned just in time to see a pair of yellow-slitted eyes, rimmed with red lids which belonged to the pale blue head of a deadly Nadder. It was eyeing me, sizing me up I suppose, its gaze lingered on my knife and hatchet. What did dad say about dragons and weapons again? Um, that you shouldn't approach them with anything threatening-too late, and that you should throw it away if you ever do end up face to face with one. Riiight.

Hatchet's first, it was already in my hand, I tossed it a few feet away from the boulder I was hiding next to. The thing relaxed only slightly, now for the knife. It growled menacingly as my hand went for my blade, I stopped, maybe this isn't the best idea. The growling grew as I slowly drew the sharp little blade, and abated once it landed next to the hatchet as if it were saying "thats much better". When the beast started to advance, I knew this wasn't a good idea, I had just thrown away my best hope of walking away alive. It cocked its head to get a better look at its prey, I trembled as I closed my eyes and mentally prepared myself that I was about to be eaten alive. Why! I threw out my "threatening objects", why is it still coming at me?

Oh gods above, please spare me! I promise that I'll never disrespect my father again, please I'm begging you! I had not really believed in our gods, but figured that the best thing right now was to try, they couldn't really take back salvation if I broke my promise anyway. Could they? Regret and terror welled inside me, what if I really have to do it?

The final strike never came. Whether by the gods' will, or just luck, I knew not; what I did know was that the thing was gone and I was safe. Shakily, I propped myself up on the boulder and attempted to steady myself. Seeing as I found myself on the ground once more, it apparently didn't work. After a few seconds of deep breathing I tried again. Minutes passed, and I eventually was able to stand up. I surveyed my surroundings, looking for the patch of grass that I had roughly deposited my armaments.

"Okay, not here, not there, not there." I stated to myself as my eyes darted across the clearing "Agh WHERE ARE YOU!"

(Time Hath Passed)

"The gods must hate me, some people lose their knife or their hatchet, but no, not me: I manage to lose both!" I said strutting in no general direction, completely lost. There were too many trees to see if I was near the high end of the isle or not, and the layout of the ground didn't hint at it either. I stomped angrily, still fuming at my misfortune, not even noticing that there was a change in the landscape to my right. This new geo-whatsical feature of the island was an area where the sea had invaded inland to form a small cove and I was on the ridge overlooking it. Realizing this, I internally jumped for joy, too exhausted to do it for real. I figured that I would be able to go around the whole island and back to my temporary settlement by following the beach. It wasn't that much of a jump to get below, I'd use the water to break my fall.

That was the theory anyway, the process was not as easygoing. I took a few steps back from the edge and then took a running jump forward, enduring the odd sinking feeling in my gut as I fell. All the little caws and cracks that had purveyed my ears became muted as I broke the water, replaced with the burbling roar of water coursing around me. Tiny bubbles introduced into the water by my impact tickled me with their wiggling composure. Everything was peaceful for the moment, but you know how quickly things can turn for the worst, take me for example.

When my head broke the surface for air, it started. From my position in the cove's small center, I could easily see the little cave carved into the side opposite its entrance. The real problem was not the cave, and not directly the inhabitant therein, it was the high pitched screech that was emanating from it. It was like it was shaking my very core while doing the same to my body. I could feel my teeth rattle with the shriek, not to mention that my head was beginning to throb uncontrollably, and my vision was pulsing with black and dark blues. I ducked under the water, relieved at the soothing truth that those horrible screams didn't carry so well under the surface. So enthralled with the absence of pain was I that I didn't even realize that I hadn't taken a breath before diving, and as consequence I was experiencing a horrible burning in my lungs.

I was now facing two choices: die here, or die up there. Neither were things I particularly wanted to do, I prefer life over death, but I figured that I had asked the gods for help enough today and they probably didn't want anything more to do with me. I'd better hurry, I thought to myself, seeing as the surface was drifting further away, or was it me moving? Oh gods my chest hurts. With the last ounce of my energy I frolicked madly to the surface no longer caring if my ears would survive another volley of punishment. Air! I got a good two breaths before the sonic waves began their dirty work, and dived below once more. Must . . . get . . . away, I urged my poor body as the darkness began closing shut on my mind. Every muscle burned, tensing and relaxing as if they couldn't decide whether they were done or not. This must be what dying feels like. Wait! I have my whole life ahead of me; there are places I want to go, things I want to see! I can't die here! Oh but I'm so tired, so cold, so wet. What's the point of living, I'm stuck here . . . No. NO, I have a chance! Dad didn't leave me here to die! He wanted me to learn somethin'! I just have to learn it, then I can get the heck off this tiny rock! Light's fading . . . breath's almost gone . . . can't move . . . anymore . . . g- . . . goodbye cruel world . . .

I was so out of it, that the crushing grip that had clamped around my shoulders felt like friendly squeeze as it lifted me up. The water rushing past my face was like a light breeze on the rare summer's day at Berk. I was so numb my body felt as weightless above the water as it had below it. Couldn't hear the familiar screech coming from below me disperse into to increasing distance, like I was flying up to the judgement bar in the heavens. I stopped rising into the sky, and the thing carrying me began to glide away from the clouds, back down to the island: my condemned prison. wait . . . wait . . . I want to see it . . . I want to see what's up there . . . past the clouds . . . away from the pain . . . d-dad . . . why am I still alive?

The creature that carried me back to this wretched island dropped me back down, back to earth. From my blurry darkened vision, I could barely make out the improvised shelter that I had put together; loving it and hating it at the same time. Gods . . . make up . . . your minds . . . do you hate me enough to send me back to suffer?

Apparently yes . . .

MWAHAHAHAHA . . . kay so its not that evil, but I like it. 2000 words is a good start for learning to do long chapters. If you haven't guessed, the screeching came from a Thunder Drum hiding in the cove's cave. I haven't decided what kind of dragon saved him yet, hopefully someone has an idea for that. If my descriptions suck, please tell me so I can remedy that. But I won't know about any of your comments or complaints if you don't review.

Karma: Press the button!

Me: you know you want to . . .