Chapter One: A Complication, But Not The Problem

In terms of weather, ninety miles due south makes a big difference. Ninety miles as the dragon flies, to be precise.

Hiccup was starting to get spoiled by the somewhat warmer weather the Mainland offered. Somewhat, as it was still threatening to rain most of the time and visibility was frequently deluded by large clumps of billowing mist, good for dragon-obscuring measures but bad on the mood. But the rain was usually rain and not ice in some form, and you could actually walk around without the need for a fur coat or six layers of fat.

Today, there was even some sun poking through in places. Back at his camp/hiding spot, Toothless had been playing Tag the Sunbeam, moving around to rest within any random burst of sunshine. It never lasted long, but for a cold-blooded creature with heat issues it was worth the effort.

"Okay, I've seen the place," said Astrid sourly. "Can we go?"

"Give it another minute," replied Hiccup. "Maybe the fog will shift and…"

"We'll get a better view of this dilapidated village? I think I've seen enough of it." She was a little too loud in her opinion, and a few nearby locals turned her way with scowls on their faces.

Dilapidated was a kind word for Tempest Peak, a Mainland village whose population spoke Norse mostly out of proximity to their more-aggressive neighbors. A couple hundred people, maybe, with dirt where there should be grass and mud where there should be dirt. Outside of an earth-filled circle that was unofficially the town center, there was little rhyme or reason to the village's infrastructure. The homes looked improvised, mostly made of straw and twigs. The people were a mix of farmers and fishers in simple outfits and dresses.

First time around, they had ignored Hiccup. He had that harmless way about him. This time, not so much… or rather, not so much concerning Astrid, whose image and demeanor could never be characterized as harmless.

"Okay, the village itself is… unremarkable," he said in low voice, hoping Astrid would take the hint and lower hers. "But there's this really nice view straight between those two trees." He pointed at a pair of lengthy pines, standing like sentinels over the wooden homes of Tempest Point. "Clear view of the lower valley stretching on for miles. I caught it last time I was here and the weather's better this time out."

"Fine," she said, this time lowering her tone but not changing the irritation in it.

Astrid wasn't the impatient type. Her attitude came from picking up on the same thing Hiccup had been picking up on; the distrustful, suspicious and downright disapproving looks from the villagers moving about their daily lives on the damp roads and paths. Only the looks were not at aimed at Hiccup for a change.

By the Gods, just give me the view, Hiccup mentally pleaded. Make this trip worthwhile and give me the view.

Today marked Hiccup's sixth trip to what the Vikings of Berk referred to as the Mainland – other folk called it the Continent. His sixth trip and his second visiting Tempest Point. It was probably the most hospitable of the villages he'd been to… as in the least hostile. There was almost no militia at all, the residents relying on the gods or providence or blind luck to carry them through various calamities. It was a pathetic target for any would-be looter or pillager.

Hiccup cringed. Yes, that was him thinking like a Viking just then. Not what he was out here to do.

What was he out here to do? Good question, really, though this particular trip was to get Astrid excited about the Mainland, to get her to share in the experience. But it wasn't turning out the way he hoped. The weather being uncooperative was a complication, but not the problem.

For him, the Mainland trips were a needed break from the village. Close to two years since his famous battle with Red Death, he hadn't quite come to terms with actually being liked, or needed. If he wasn't being routinely asked to help would-be dragon riders stay in their saddles for longer than ten seconds, then he was convincing Monstrous Nightmares to carry buckets for the Bucket Brigade or teaching Terrors to pursue rats instead of fish. Atop of that, he was updating the Dragon Manual so that it didn't focus so much on killing every dragon that ever lived and the not-so-subtle lessons from his dad concerning tribal leadership.

Tribal leadership. Now there was a daunting thought, and one he absolutely didn't want to think about.

In the past, he could slip away to some remote part of the island to do some tinkering or planning or daydreaming if he couldn't come up with anything to tinker with. But now there was nowhere to hide. One quick pass by a local dragon rider and somebody would report back his location and someone would come find him with a request or a plea and Hiccup-time was over.

It was getting to be a bit much. After a lifetime of soloing, mostly out of necessity rather than preference, he found that he desired some solitude after all. The almost unreal level of attention the village gave him now was stifling.

So after a surprisingly agreeable discussion with his father, Hiccup hatched a plan that would allow him to act in the village interests while getting some needed solitude.

The Mainland.

Remarkably enough, the people of Berk knew precious little about the Mainland. Three hundred years of chronic warfare against dragonkind had made the Vikings expert about dragons… and not much else. Their economy was largely self-contained and they rarely did that thing Vikings were known for – the whole looting thing. They didn't know anything about what villages or kingdoms lay to the south. And with the war over and the potential for things like expansion and trade on the table for the first time in forever, it couldn't hurt to know a few things about their neighbors.

Hiccup already knew that if he couldn't bring himself to kill dragons, he definitely couldn't kill other humans. So why not try something new? How about trying peaceful coexistence for a change? But to do that, he needed information. Since a Viking longboat scouting the waters of the Mainland would not be well received, a stealthy scout dragon was in order.

There, Hiccup hit his first obstacle. Something that nobody, not even him, had ever considered before. It was the answer to this question: why didn't the dragon colony just up and leave the area instead of fighting Vikings all the time and remaining enslaved to a giant dragon-monster?

Answer: they have stubbornness issues. If they find a place with food, warmth, and shelter, they don't want to leave it. They might range dozens of miles away, but they had a limit. Once they hit that range limit, they become agitated and uncooperative, always trying to turn back to their "nest". After Red Death's demise, the local dragon colony had shifted its nest from the volcano island to Berk, but the range limits merely shifted with them.

Part of the new deal he had with his father was that he had to train some other dragon riders for scouting duties, since there was a lot of coastline and one dragon wouldn't cut it. So far, Hiccup's attempts to train a scouting crew were meeting with this territory problem. Toothless was the only dragon that could be relied on to not panic when the range limit was hit. Either Night Furies didn't have that problem, or Toothless considered his "nest" to be wherever Hiccup went. Time and more training might solve the problem with the rest of the Berk dragons, but for now Toothless was the village's resident scout.

With Astrid agreeing to come see the Mainland, Hiccup was feeling vindicated for having spent the effort transforming his saddle harness into a two-seater configuration. Yes, there had been… motives behind the design change (chiefly Astrid and romantic flights and such), but some of them were actually practical. The biggest one was the fact that Hiccup and Toothless were traveling farther and farther away these days, well beyond the naval patrol routes of Berk. On his own, without any support, Hiccup had to rely on Toothless and his aerial stunt skills to escape threats, and Toothless had some truly insane maneuvers that would toss anyone not strapped into a harness. If he brought someone with him, such as on this day, he needed to know they'd be safely tethered to Toothless. Not to mention that arms and legs got tired after hours of flight time and a harness helped alleviate stressed joints.

Toothless liked the long journeys. For a dragon, flight time was happy time. He wasn't so much a fan of the hiding, though. He was back at their landing zone staying out of sight, as he had on other occasions, and their harnesses had been left clipped to Toothless's saddle. Hiccup had been to enough Mainland villages to realize that dragons weren't welcome. The only difference in reactions Hiccup had noticed between Mainlanders and Vikings was that where the Vikings of Berk used to run toward the beasts, the coastal villagers ran the opposite direction.

But it wasn't the dragons that had the Mainland Coast constantly in a tizzy. According to the villagers, dragons were rare and never showed up in great numbers. No, the villagers had a much bigger concern. Hiccup had recorded a few of the choicest comments about this "bigger concern" in his journal:

"Murderous cutthroats, all of them. They'll slice off your nose if they think it's too long."

Or:

"Smelly, hairy, and uncivilized. You're better off telling a forest fire to stop burning than to deal with a Viking."

And Hiccup's personal favorite:

"Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight."

Vikings were to the Mainland what dragons used to be for the Vikings. The irony was not lost on Hiccup.

"It's not happening, Hiccup," said Astrid, still as sour as before.

Her words jogged Hiccup from his ruminations, forcing a quiet sigh from his lips. The sea fog was just too thick. Guess it was too much to ask for one thing to go right today.

"All right," said Hiccup. "There are a few spots to the west that might be less foggy. If you'll stick it out with me… Astrid?"

If she'd heard him, she wasn't showing it. Her eyes were fixed on a group of four burly-looking men passing by, some of them holding sharp farming implements. Their faces held an array of reactions, none of them positive. Astrid wasn't averting her gaze this time. Under Hiccup's advice, she had been avoiding eye contact. But she was clearly fed up and this time she shot back an angry glare.

One of the men slowed and then stopped, his reaction growing angrier. He had a scythe in his hands with a curved blade as long as his arm, and he gripped it tighter as the staring contest continued. The other men stopped and watched, perhaps waiting for something to happen.

"O-kay, time to go," said Hiccup, grabbing Astrid by the arm and dragging her away. The sudden lurch broke off her gaze, where it then settled on Hiccup. Ignoring her, he kept awaiting some harsh word or comment from behind him that would set off Astrid. Hiccup couldn't have done anything if that happened. The only reason he was leading her away was because she was allowing it.

Thankfully, nothing happened, Astrid shrugging off Hiccup's hold once they were a safe distance from the group. Hiccup anticipated an unkind word in his direction or maybe a punch to the shoulder as his reward for preventing a fight, but after a second of angry glaring she merely shook her head and stormed off in the direction of Toothless.

No, this had definitely not gone according to plan. It was a good thing Astrid had left her double-bladed axe back with Toothless or things might have gotten ugly.

The two of them walked wordlessly for a time until they had passed the last of the village homes with no further incidents to report. They were about to move up a forest trail that led more or less directly to Toothless when Astrid abruptly stopped in her tracks. Hiccup was caught off-guard by her sudden halt and had to whirl around to face her.

"Astrid?"

She wasn't angry now, at least not purely angry. Some sadness was tingeing her eyes as well, which she kept focused on the ground. "I don't think I've ever felt that before. They just… they hated me."

"Astrid, it wasn't personal," said Hiccup. "I wouldn't even call it hate. They're just… uncomfortable…"

"Uncomfortable? No, that was hate, Hiccup." The sad part of her had fallen away. There was nothing but Mad Astrid now as she looked back toward the village. "Bunch of weak people judging me. And for what? Because I don't dress up all girly? Because I could probably break any of those guys' arms in two moves? Because I know how to stand tall when a dragon goes after my village's sheep while they cower in their hovels?"

"That may be part of it, yeah," said Hiccup.

"Are you defending them?" said Astrid, turning her irate eyes back on Hiccup.

"Never," said Hiccup. "But considering what they've been through, what they're still going through, maybe you can understand why they react like they do."

Once upon a time, there were real reasons to fear dragons in Berk. But there were still real reasons for the Mainlanders to fear Vikings. While Berk had had other priorities for three centuries, other clans and tribes in the area had continued to make life miserable for non-Vikings. Hiccup had known this going into his Mainland forays; he thought Astrid had as well. But it was hard to be sympathetic with jerks, regardless of their plight.

"I don't have to understand, Hiccup," said Astrid, managing to calm her voice slightly but still plenty irate. "Why should I even care about them, Hiccup? We don't need to befriend them, or come to their aid, or whatever you think we need to do. I mean, look at them. They can barely hold their village together, and they think they can judge me? I get why they don't have a problem with you, since you blend in so well with them, but…"

Astrid stopped in mid-sentence, the anger leaching out of her. She'd just heard her own words, and she hadn't liked them one bit.

"I… Wow, that just kind of popped out," she said, looking rather chagrined all of a sudden. "Hiccup, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," he replied, a light smile on his face. To be honest, he wasn't upset. It was almost a relief to hear a little bit of the old Astrid come out. It was hard to erase years of ingrained behavior, hard to rewrite the roles they'd played out through their early childhood. The fact that she struggled with it as well made his own struggles feel less abnormal.

"Of course, it's also true," said Hiccup, deciding to throw in a little self-depreciating humor to lighten the mood. "Mr. Non-Viking Viking here. It's the only way I could walk around these villages and get straight answers without getting pitchforked."

But Astrid wasn't laughing. "That's the thing, Hiccup. It's not true. You aren't like them. You don't judge others like they do, or like we do. Even after… even when you probably have a right to do so, you don't. The fact that you're out here, trying to smooth out centuries of conflict… That's who you are."

Warming words, indeed. Yet Hiccup wasn't all that thrilled with them. Not because there was a problem with the meaning beneath them or that he didn't like hearing them. But because it was more of the same thing he'd heard off and on over the last two years. If he had notched his metal leg ever time someone in the village effectively apologized for their treatment of him in the past, his leg would have been reduced to metal shavings by now.

He hadn't minded it at first, but now he wanted to move beyond it and say, "We're all good here." Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't really about him, but some combination of jitters and apoplexy shared throughout the village. Things had changed a lot, and some people feared that it could easily slip back into the old ways, that dragons and humans couldn't truly coexist and that one would be eating the other before long. Others feared where it would all lead, and sadly there were some legit reasons for that thinking.

Whatever the case, he was now the go-to guy on dragons, and they wanted to make sure he was happy. Some of them tried a little too hard.

Not Astrid, though. She still called him on his more stupid moments, still dented his shoulder when she was particularly disapproving. She was the one he asked first when he needed honest advice, the only one he wanted to come with him to the Mainland after he determined it was relatively safe.

She'd grown up more, as everyone had, though she still went out in public dressed to cleave someone's head off at a moment's notice. But she was still the fierce Astrid, still the capable Astrid… and more beautiful than ever.

And now she was apologizing.

Maybe it explained why things never quite got further with them than an occasional kiss. Maybe things weren't quite settled yet. Maybe there was still guilt over their past interactions.

Ugh. Why did he have to start thinking? That never did him any good.

He self-consciously felt up his face. Yeah, that stubble of his was still taking its sweet time. Did he need yet another reminder of his physical failings? He hoped to be at least taller than Astrid by the time his growth spurts finalized.

"So… we didn't kill anyone today," said Hiccup, desperately trying to inject some humor. "Something went right."

There was finally a smile on Astrid's face again. "Well, your choice of village left something to be desired, but some of this is pretty nice. I've never been to the Mainland before, never been this far away from home."

"Plenty of coast to fly over," he added. "We can find a quiet place without any angry villagers."

"Maybe," she said lightly. "Then again, after dealing with those village idiots I could go for some action."

As Astrid finished speaking, a low rumble began to echo through the trees, vibrating both in the air and in the ground and causing the water in nearby puddles to shimmer. It was impossible to determine direction, even as the rumble intensified and shook the spring mounting in Hiccup's metal leg. Hiccup's and Astrid's smiles dropped away as frantic shouting began to spring up behind them, from the village they had so eagerly left.

As the two of them turned to look, a resounding crash erupted from the village. While evergreen trees and other homes obscured most of the damage, the misty air above the village now had a fair amount of fragments flying around and sprinkling down on the frightened heads of the villagers. Another crash joined the first, and another shower of debris occurred.

Hiccup and Astrid exchanged concerned looks. Yes, something was going down in the village. No, they had no obligation to help the villagers.

Yes, they were going there anyway.

"Toothless, you better be paying attention," muttered Hiccup as he ran after Astrid toward the suddenly-exploding village.

Toothless was always paying attention, mostly because he always had to be paying attention.

The black dragon was currently bored out of its skull and not very comfortable, having done everything it could to follow the traveling bands of sunlight that arrived now and then to warm its scales. But the day had progressed too far and the sunshine had vanished altogether, leaving the dragon curled up alone upon a barren patch of dirt ringed by a thick field of wild grass.

A good spot to hide, but it had no other redeeming qualities. And Toothless was too hyped up to sleep away the day.

Night Furies knew about stealth and secrecy. They lived the life of the hidden hunter in the wild. You couldn't even detect one at night unless it chose to make its presence known. Toothless understood that the humans outside of its "nest" weren't friendly, so a low profile was required. It was a tradeoff for the chance at long flights over the ocean, feeling the constant breeze flow over its body and the sensation of freedom that it enjoyed so much.

But it didn't make the waiting any less irritating. There were occasionally interesting things to occupy the dragon's time, like watching ants build a mound or a squirrel running around in the trees, but the dragon was only truly at ease, truly happy, when it was airborne.

So it had its ears perked, hoping that the next sound it heard was the tiny footfalls of his human, hoping his boredom would soon end and he'd be touching the skyline once again.

Thus, he picked up the crashing sounds fairly soon after they began, his head raised and his ears pivoted to discern direction. He wasn't sure what to make of it – most of the noise was unfamiliar, though it sounded destructive in nature. It came from down the hillside, toward the coast, which was where Hiccup and the other human, Astrid, had gone. His concern grew, as did his uncertainty on whether to act or not. The last time it had broken cover and gone to the rescue, things had not gone well. Besides, he had yet to hear Hiccup's voice anywhere near the disturbing noises, so…

Then a familiar voice did pop up. Faint, barely understandable, but close to the destructive noises.

Too close.

A growl escaping from between his now-extended teeth, Toothless launched out of his hiding spot, strong legs and powerful wings propelling him in a series of glide-leaps through the forest, over low trees and sudden drops. His one thought: make sure his humans were okay.

And woe to whatever was trying to make them not okay.

"Okay, this is new."

Hiccup's observation was perhaps unnecessary to state, but it rather encapsulated the feeling of the moment when he and Astrid rounded a nearby village hovel and saw a man riding and wrestling with, by all appearances, an oversized bull made of nothing but metallic-looking bones.

In the middle of the village circle that was already a mess of debris from several homes that had been smashed or altogether flattened, a creature with the basic shape of a bull was gyrating and bucking with wild abandon, its rear legs kicking out furiously. Hiccup recognized the animal type only from an old history book that, remarkably, had nothing to do with dragons. Evidently, Berk's distant ancestors were far more traditional and had done raids that included stealing livestock. Cattle were the most common type and the male of the species was known as a bull. Lots of meat on a bull, but a small island like Berk just couldn't sustain a cattle population, so they'd stuck with sheep.

Well, this thing might have resembled a bull, might even be acting like one for all Hiccup knew, but it was eight times the size it should have been and had no meat. Where skin, flesh, and organs should have been was only a skeleton composed of bones that shined like polished steel in the defused sunlight. Not just the bones, but also the metal struts that lined its limbs, spine, and ribcage. It had no tail, but it had all four legs and a bovine skull in front with not just one, but two sets of horns. The second set was attached underneath the jawbone, adding to the surreal nature of the thing.

It didn't look like it had been born. It looked like it had been built. It should have been immobile, perched in front of a blacksmith shop as creative artwork. It had no reason to be moving.

Most of the villagers were running around in a blind panic, some getting as far from the rampaging beast as they could while others stood in terror near their homes or at some distance from the scene, unable to take action… much like what Hiccup and Astrid were doing at the moment. The "skele-bull" (for lack of a better term) had already careened into another house as they watched, effortlessly smashing away an entire wall and forcing a couple and their three children to run screaming from the house.

No one seemed hurt, thank the Gods. But if this kept up, that was likely to change. And the first casualty was likely going to be the man currently clinging to the front of the skele-bull's head, his arms and legs gripping the skull bone for dear life. Wide-eyed and yelping, he was still managing to hold on through the wild bucking and head shaking.

"What's that idiot doing?" said Astrid, pointing at the clinging villager.

"I… I think he's blinding it," replied Hiccup. "He's on top of that thing's eyes. It might be what's keeping the village in one piece."

"He's going to get really killed," commented Astrid. Then she ran off toward a hay wagon, leaving Hiccup temporarily alone as the spectacle continued. He trusted that she had an idea, because he had nothing.

The skele-bull danced closer to Hiccup's spot, allowing him a better look at the foolish bull-riding villager on its head. But as he looked on, something about the man changed Hiccup's impression of him. The man's clothes didn't match the local trends – his were dark gray, less baggy. His build was less intimidating than most of the village farm workers, and they were already half the size of your average Viking adult. And while he was yelling in tandem with the bucking metal monster, he didn't seem terrified. It reminded Hiccup of his dad's well-repeated wrestling sessions with Gronckles and Nadders – there was fear, always fear, but there was confidence as well.

Then, abruptly, the skele-bull stopped its bucking and lowered its head. The fight had gone out of it, the creature almost statue-like now. The man didn't relax his grip in the slightest, but he breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, couldn't buck me off that easily, could you?" he said in a tired tone.

The horns moved. Instead of acting like the solid pointed pieces of bone they should have been, they flowed like liquid and wrapped around the man's torso and legs like tendrils. All four of them together, binding the man to the skele-bull's head.

Alarmed, the man tried to break free. But the horns were solid once more and he was stuck tight.

The beast then charged out at a frightening sprint, the man yelping as the beast ran head-first into a thick pine, splinting it in one hit and toppling the top part down to the ground. Hiccup cringed with the horrendous crunch – there was no way anyone could have survived that impact.

"Okay, that's just cheating," came the dazed-but-still-alive reply from the trapped rider. He remained on the beast's head, still trapped but still in one piece.

Hiccup was dumbfounded. He'd known Vikings to take blows like that in the past and need replacement limbs afterwards… if they were lucky.

The beast swung around and charged the opposite direction, scattering a small group of villagers and ramming the village's local mill, right at the stone base. The thud that time was like thunder, accompanied by a strange, barely-visible orange flash that coincided with the impact. Cracks in the granite spread out from the impact site like snakes fleeing their burrow.

"Ulp! You don't have brain, how you so smart?" came the severely disoriented response from the man, who was still alive as the creature backed off from the busted mill. The skele-bull's horns snapped back to their original position, followed by the man's body slipping off of the beast's head and landing prone on the ground below it, motionless.

The skele-bull wasn't done yet. Its eyes free of obstruction and glowing with an ominously piercing yellow hue, the dual-set horns shifted slightly, angling their points together for one unified thrust. Then the beast reared back on its legs as it prepared to gore the helpless man on the ground.

A pitchfork sailed through the air and collided with its bony head, bouncing off and doing absolutely no damage whatsoever but diverting the creature's attention enough to save the man's life, its head turning to its newest attacker.

Hiccup turned to Astrid, standing next to the hay wagon she had run towards. Having clearly tossed the farming tool, she now had another one in her hand at the ready.

"That was your plan?" he yelled. "Throw a pitchfork?"

Astrid shrugged helplessly. "If I had my axe, I'd have thrown that instead."

"We're dead," muttered Hiccup.

The only good news was that the skele-bull was no longer interested in the downed man. But it was greatly interested in Astrid now, and with no fanfare it sighted up on her and charged.

"Astrid!" screamed Hiccup, too far away to do anything but yell. Astrid ran to the side and somersaulted away from the charge, the skele-bull missing her by inches. She was back on her feet in moments, but the beast was already turning around and coming at her again with unholy speed and precision. Hiccup didn't think she had the time to dodge it again.

He ran forward, waving his hands, yelling at the charging metal creature, hoping something, anything, would divert its course. His heart lurched to a halt as the beast ignored him and sped on, targeting Astrid.

But then villagers were screaming all around him suddenly, some at the scene unfolding in front of Hiccup… and some at something behind Hiccup. Without looking, Hiccup knew what had just happened and his heart managed to start beating again.

Coming from behind him, three blue bolts of fire sailed over his head and slammed into the side of the skele-bull in rapid succession, one directly hitting the beast's front-right leg and slagging it. Fire erupted across the skele-bull's flanks, smoke and tiny pieces of metal spraying out in large plumes. In mid-charge, the creature toppled onto its side and skidded a fair distance, Astrid rolling out of the way from the smoldering beast as it came to rest and did not rise again.

Not missing a beat, Toothless ran forward toward the downed metal monster, growling a warning and tensing for more hostility. A few tense seconds passed as the smoke cleared, the shiny metal beast not rising to the challenge but seemingly down and dead. No motion from any limb or horn could be seen.

Back on her feet, Astrid ran around the downed monster and up to Toothless, giving him a grateful hug that he seemed to enjoy. Hiccup walked up next to him, patting him on the head and sighing with clear relief.

"Great timing, buddy," he said. Toothless waggled his head as if to say, I know.

However, the surrounding villagers did not share the relief Hiccup felt, all of whom were keeping their distance and acting like another skele-bull had just shown up. It wasn't going to help matters that he and Astrid looked like they were paling around with a dragon… which they were.

"I think it's safe to say that we won't be welcome back here," commented Hiccup.

"Breaks my heart," put in Astrid, heavy on the sarcasm. She then stared at the burning skele-bull and shook her head in helpless confusion. "What is that thing?"

"Not dead," came a weak voice from off to the side. Hiccup's eyes went wide when he realized he had almost forgotten about the downed bull-rider with the inhuman constitution.

He walked over to the prone man, who was already turning himself over and attempting to sit up on the muddy ground. Kneeling down, Hiccup tried to play field medic by saying, "Take it easy, pal. You almost got powdered."

The man smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I mostly got the wind knocked out of me… a lot of wind, mind you, but still, only wind."

Up close, it was crystal clear that the man wasn't one of the villagers. His skin color was tanner than everyone else's, though not dark. Not to mention that in a village where every boy and man had a beard (lucky jerks that they were) this guy was almost hairless. His head had the smallest of black mops, and he had at best three years of life on Hiccup.

No cuts, no bruises, and not even any wear and tear on his clothes outside of some mud splashes. That was almost as unreal as the skele-bull itself.

"I am grateful for the assistance of your dragon," said the man, regaining his footing. He cringed as he looked at the skele-bull's horn array. "Bet those horns would have done me in."

"But not all the smashing?" said Hiccup.

"Ah… yeah, that," said the man, looking rather uncertain. "Well, first things first. Formal introduction. Nestor." He held his hand in greeting.

Despite the mystery surrounding the guy, Hiccup didn't feel any threat from him. He certainly didn't have any reason to be unfriendly, and he took Nestor's hand. "Hiccup."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to hiccup?"

"Oh… No, no, Hiccup is…" He pointed back at himself.

"Ah… Really?" Nestor made a lop-sided grin, and then tried to suppress it. "Um, yes, very good, strong name. Don't mind me; I'm a little rattled still."

Hiccup wasn't fooled, but he did appreciate the effort. Most people didn't bother to hide their amusement.

"West or East Norse?" said Nestor. "Still practicing dialects, but there may be translation problems."

"Uh… I understand you fine, so whatever works."

Quick introductions were made to Toothless and Astrid. Nestor seemed rather intrigued with Toothless in particular. The dragon cocked his head at Nestor, seemingly okay with him, while Astrid had the same quizzical look that Hiccup knew was on his own face.

"A saddle on a dragon?" said Nestor. "Didn't think you could do that."

"You're familiar with them?" asked Hiccup.

"A species or two," said Nestor. "No offense, but you three don't strike me as local."

"Neither do you," said Astrid. "And how did you…?"

"Sorry, explanations later," said Nestor, cutting her off. "We're running out of time, and I think the natives are starting to get miffed." He gestured to the scattered villagers around them, some of who were beginning to gather in larger groups and whose voices were sounded less and less civil by the second.

"I don't think these guys will mess with us with Toothless present," said Hiccup.

"The villagers are a complication, not the problem," said Nestor, who was now swiveling his head around and clearly looking for something. "Any of you see a… Ah!"

Nestor ran over to an object sticking out of a pile of rubble and managed to free it. Resembling a leather satchel about the size of a large tome, Nestor inspected it for damage and proceeded to strap it to his back without looking inside it or offering an explanation. He did seem rather relieved to have found it, though.

Astrid looked at Hiccup and said, "We've run into the middle of something, and I don't think we want to get involved further."

Hiccup agreed with the first part, not so much the second. Call it his predilection for not leaving things alone, but the more Nestor danced about, teasing him with mysteries little and big, the more intrigued he became. As if the skele-bull wasn't enough of an incentive to…

A chorus of shrieks near the body of the skele-bull forced Hiccup and the others to turn their attention that direction. A group of villagers were backing away in terror as the beast's remaining front leg twitched once, twice, stopped, and then jerked several more times before halting again. Other legs began to follow suit, which only heightened the growing panic amongst the gathered villagers.

Toothless reared his back and menaced the skele-bull with a threatening growl. Hiccup patted him. "Easy, bud. Too many people around for more fireworks."

"Not dead," said Nestor, walking carefully to the front of the skele-bull, where its head could be seen twitching along the framework neckline. "Your dragon's fire hurt it, but it can pull itself back together with time. Only way to stop it permanently is to remove the powercore."

"The what now?" said Astrid.

"Even things that aren't alive have hearts," said Nestor, putting his hands of the beast's smooth, bone-like skull and feeling it over. "Though in this thing's case, the heart is in the head. Talk about shoddy planning."

"Can you get to it?" said Hiccup, deciding to go along with this for now and not bother with the hundreds of questions in his head. "You know, before it wakes up and kills us?"

"I was hoping to take the powercore intact," said Nestor, grabbing the skull with both hands as if he meant to yank it off then and there. "But I can't let this thing get back on its feet. Arc's going to be upset, but nothing new there."

Hiccup wasn't sure if he could take any more surprises today, but he found room for one more as Nestor's arms began to glow a pale orange, enveloping his hands and forearms and then crawling up to his shoulder blades. Gritting his teeth, Nestor began to pull on the skull, his fingertips digging into the metal surface like it was clay. Metal strained against metal as part of the skull broke free of its mooring, Nestor twisting the head to the right to work on the remaining weak point.

The crowd quieted down as they watched Nestor attempt to rip the skele-bull's head from its body. The monster's legs slowed their twitching. The mist overhead seemed to suck in the sound and cut off the village from the rest of the world as the surreal and unreal played out under it. All Hiccup could do was helplessly wonder how long it would be before the next instance of craziness occurred today.

As it turned out, he only had to wait five seconds – when the house behind him exploded.