Author's Nose.. uh, Note: Well, my camping trip didn't interfere with my release schedule, but recovering from it slowed me down some. I'm still ahead of schedule, but just barely. Thankfully, no more camping to be done for the rest of the summer.

Onwards.

Chapter Twelve: Stupid-Crazy Ideas

The second day of the summit managed to be ten times better than the first day, mostly because Hiccup extricated himself from the majority of the proceedings.

The squad fled to the Wasteland once more for a pre-demonstration training session, their first since Stoic had forbidden dragon flights around the island. Understandably, the squad was rusty and had trouble coordinating and cooperating for the first hour or so. But they quickly got back in the groove, reducing the melted and charred remnants of their practice dummies into slag before the day was over.

Gobber had set up a new row of target dummies on another section of the island far closer to Berk – their demonstration area for tomorrow. The main goal was for the squad to do one pass together in formation, pick targets, blast those targets, and fly off without anyone doing anything moronic. Hiccup and Toothless would then do a second pass and take out any targets left standing, showing off that legendary Night Fury precision. It would be quick, dirty, and fiery, and if it didn't impress the pants of the Gunnarr then Hiccup would eat his saddle.

Hiccup even got in some tinkering time at Sanctuary, putting the grapple launcher back into an operational status and even adding a few improvements. He wisely resisted the urge to test it again, though.

He also resisted the urge to check on Nestor and see if he was gone from the island. Hiccup's dad had opened up the island to the Gunnarr and there were bands of Vikings hiking about the forests at their leisure. Some of them had to be searching for signs of the Outlander and Hiccup wasn't about to point the way for them.

He did have to attend the evening feast, but this time there were fewer speeches and more revelry. Hiccup did his best to buck up his dad at their dinner table, Stoic acting quieter and more sullen than usual. He related to Hiccup how the day's private negotiations had been long and heated. Stoic offered better trade goods and a mutual defense pact, but Stonefist demanded a serious reduction in Berk's dragon population. The Gunnarr chief refused to accept that dragons weren't conventional livestock and that you couldn't just slaughter them like sheep.

Hiccup got away earlier this time and went straight home, taking care of his household chores and keeping Toothless company until the long day finally caught up to him and he headed upstairs for some shuteye. He actually felt confident for a change, the day's practice removing some of the anxieties that persistently clung to his spirits.

They were going to pull this off. They had to.

It struck him odd that his room was gloomier than he remembered, since he was pretty sure he had left the shutters to his solitary window open this morning. But he had been pretty occupied with last minute planning and practice. He must have overlooked it. The candle in his hand dispelled most of the inhabiting shadows, showing that there was nothing hiding in the corners. He would have felt silly to be worried if the last two weeks hadn't happened.

He transferred the flame from the candle in hand to a candle stand next to his bed and sat down on his mattress. He was beginning the process of unbinding his metal foot from his leg when he felt something flick his real foot. He then looked down at his right boot, spotting the human hand that jutted out from under his bed, flicking his boot again as he watched. An ordinary human hand – nothing skeletal, scaly, or hairy about it.

Hiccup sighed. It said a lot about his life that this kind of thing wasn't fazing him anymore.

Hiccup took a candle and got down on his knees, peering under his bed. There was a cramped, forlorn-looking familiar face wedged in the crawlspace, his clothes covered in accumulated dust.

"Nestor?" said Hiccup.

Nestor waved hello, stirring up a whiff of dust doing so. "Told you it was only a matter of time."

"It's only been two days," said Hiccup, "And why…?"

"Best place to hide in your house that didn't involve running into your father."

"Okay, but how…?"

"Did a little scouting of my own while I was on the island. Figured out this was your house."

"Right, but then…"

"Arc hasn't shown up." He coughed out a puff of dust. "Can I come out now?"

"Yes, away from my bed."

Once Nestor cleared the bed and Hiccup double-checked to be sure they were still alone in the house, Hiccup sat back down again and took a few breaths to keep calm while Nestor brushed the dust off his clothes. He actively fought off nasty thoughts about Gunnarr Vikings suddenly bursting into the house and flaying the two of them alive.

"He didn't show up?" asked Hiccup. "Okay, he's just running late. That shouldn't cause a panic."

"You don't understand," said Nestor, who began to pace back and forth on the floorboards. "If you take a bet on the sun rising and Arc being back on the day he said he'd be back on, you bet on Arc. He is never late. Not once in all the years I've known him."

Hiccup didn't mention his meeting with Arc, nor did he plan to. Nestor wouldn't take it well, knowing his dragon mentor chose to harangue Hiccup instead of checking in with him. But Nestor was right – Arc should have been back by now after going off to confront Cervantes.

"What are you thinking?" Hiccup asked.

"Cervantes. I think Arc found him… and things didn't go well. Anything could have happened to him, I supposed, but Arc always told me to think worst-case scenario."

Hiccup sucked in his breath and said, "Do you think he's…"

The panic on Nestor's face made it clear that he did think it, but he didn't say it. "I hope not. Cervantes might still need him for interrogation… Salo krebit…"

"Take it easy. Let's think about this."

"What's to think about, Hiccup? I'm stuck here and Arc needs help. I'm certain of it. Even if I can get a ride off the island, I have no idea where to go. Oh, why did Arc have to be such a…"

"We may have another problem," interrupted Hiccup. "Ever heard of the Seer?"

Nestor stopped pacing and shook his head. "Local legend?"

"Not a legend," corrected Hiccup, and he explained the Seer and her dire warning about the Outlander. After he was done, Nestor had to find a spot on Hiccup's bed himself, his face blanching in the thin candlelight.

"It makes no sense," he said shakily. "We've never crossed the Gunnarr. Why would they be after me? And what's the deal with 'Outlander'?"

"You're asking me? The Seer has this 'mysterious-ways' thing going on, and she likes to give people titles for some reason. I wanted to warn you but I figured you were gone already. Really, not trying to a bad host, but you can't be here. Give it three more days and then we'll…"

"We can't wait three days, Hiccup!" hissed Nestor. "Arc will be dead by then for sure, and if Cervantes really is behind his disappearance then he'll be coming after the artifacts. With Arc gone, there's no hole I can hide in that Cervantes won't be able to sniff out."

Hiccup wanted this discussion to go away, because it was sounding more and more like his life would explode in his face if Nestor didn't leave. But Nestor's panic over Arc persuaded him to listen. If it had been Toothless, after all…

"Can you destroy the artifacts?" he offered.

Nestor's face grew even whiter at Hiccup's suggestion. "Bad, bad idea. The tome, maybe, but the powercore? Remember what I told you about a volcano right in your lap?"

Hiccup's own face now blanched. "That much power… on our island?"

"No," admitted Nestor, "but a lot of power. Don't want to be standing next to it if it blows."

"And now I have one more nightmare," murmured Hiccup. "Okay, then we destroy the tome. That's harmless, right?"

"Probably, but I don't want to do that just yet. It's the only information we have on the Monolith. I still haven't translated it completely, so it might cough up a location or a weakness we can exploit. I'm even getting an idea on what the Monolith is."

"I take it's definitely not a giant fish filleter like I was hoping."

"We'd be so lucky. The Artisan siege engineer who wrote the diary was talking about how the Artisans were losing the civil war with the Ancestors. The Ancestors were as powerful as Hyperions, every one of them, and even the Guardians couldn't stand against them for long. So they came up with something better, a secret weapon. I tried reading ahead to get a better idea, but the language is difficult and I'm only getting bits and pieces."

"Which bits matter?"

"Most of them. The engineer and his buddies came north to build the weapon and hide it away until it was ready to deploy. They succeeded on both fronts. He mentions being afraid of what he was creating, but he feared losing to the Ancestors even more. I snuck a peak at the last written page and the guy was babbling on and on about turtles again when the writing just… stops. It just ends very abruptly, like he was interrupted."

"Interrupted? As in…?" Hiccup cut his finger across his throat to illustrate his thought.

"Possibly," said Nestor. "Then again, maybe he finally went crazy and decided to find the turtle of his dreams. More likely, the Ancestors found him and his pals and put an end to their project, though if they did then they didn't dismantle it for some reason. The other thing I've found is the activation phrase."

"A what?"

"Activation phrase. It's like a bunch of code words. You need it to make a powercore do its thing. The engineer wrote it down like a poem, hiding key words in its lines. Cervantes might need it, or it just might be a convenience. The powercore is what matters, Hiccup. Cervantes is a genius – he gets his bony hands on the powercore, he'll figure out how to use it, tome or no tome. All that's standing between Cervantes and the Monolith is Arc… if that. We don't have three days, Hiccup."

Hiccup groaned, not needing any of this right now, then said. "Toothless and I can take you to the Mainland, which should get you clear of the Gunnarr, and you can take everything with you. If we leave now, I might get there and back before dawn."

"That might slow down Cervantes, but it won't stop him, and it won't help Arc," said Nestor, the desperation thick in his voice. "I can't abandon him, Hiccup. He's a righteous pain in the rear, but he's the family I have."

"There's nothing else I can do," replied Hiccup, his composure breaking as the utter helplessness of the situation continued to sink in. "Not with the Gunnarr breathing down our necks. I'm all out of stupid-crazy ideas."

Nestor closed his eyes and sighed, demonstrating what Hiccup felt. Silence fell over them, neither one offering useless platitudes or futile ideas. This was one of the times that Hiccup really wished he could talk to his dad about…

Talk to his dad.

"You know," said Hiccup, "I may have one more stupid-crazy idea in me… and I'm pretty sure you're not going to look forward to it."

Stoic had been on voyages through churning seas that could make the strongest of stomachs ill and through storms that howled with ripping winds capable of stripping the flesh from your bones. Yet those impossible Gods-fearing moments never made him feel as exhausted as a day of talk with Stonefist, arguing the same obvious debate over and over.

Stonefist? Stonehead was a better name. Nothing could penetrate that man's thick skull.

He entered his home later than he expected, the fire pit dying down and the house preternaturally quiet, no snoring or rustling from upstairs. Usually that meant Hiccup had disappeared outside, but Stoic had checked on Toothless and found the dragon asleep in his shelter. Hiccup wouldn't have taken off without him at this late hour.

Stretching his aching body, Stoic was about to go straight to his bed when he heard the clanking gait of his son descending the stairs behind him, followed by the footsteps of another pair of boots. Hiccup had a guest – a late guest. He immediately thought of Astrid, a fine girl that he never would have pegged as interested in his son had he not seen her kiss him with his own eyes. As much as he approved of his son's choice in women, he did need to put a stop to late-night visits.

So when he turned around and saw not Astrid standing next to Hiccup, but a male stranger a few years older than Hiccup, his confusion was great indeed.

"Ah, Dad, we have something we need to discuss," said Hiccup sheepishly.

"Formal introduction. Nestor," said Nestor, offering his hand and getting a serious scowl in reply. His hand returned to his side unshaken.

Stoic closed his eyes and remembered Gobber's advice about counting to five before daring to speak. He only got to three, but he kept his eyes closed and his voice mellow to keep his anger in check while he spoke.

"Hiccup, I'm going to ask you a question," he said, "and the answer to the question better not be that the man next to you is the Outlander."

"Um… Then I'm not sure how to answer the question," Hiccup said hesitantly.

To Stoic's credit, he successfully made it through the next several hours of explanation and information without throttling or breaking anything, despite his overwhelming urge to do just that upon hearing his son had been lying to him, again, about some very important matters over the last two weeks… or that the story he'd just been told was so crazy-fantastic that he was surprised Hiccup hadn't thrown in a few trolls for good measure. Nestor had to show off a few of his tricks to finally convince him that neither his son, nor the world, had just gone mad.

Once the explanations were done, Hiccup and Nestor patiently sat facing Stoic, both highly concerned about what he was about to do. Stoic felt like he'd just butted his head on a boulder four or five times in a row, but he used his discomfort to keep his wits about him, to drive away his fears.

"Nestor, go wait out back," Stoic calmly ordered. "My son and I have a few things to discuss." Nestor immediately obeyed, leaving Hiccup and Stoic alone, Hiccup watching his father timidly as Stoic got up and stood behind his chair, leaning on it for support.

"Son, why do you do this?" he said. "Thor Almighty, why do you do this? You should have come to me the moment you saw that man on our island."

"I know, Dad," said Hiccup. "But I didn't know how you'd react."

"I'd react by protecting my people!" Stoic declared. "I'd have protected my son! He's responsible for those skeleton devils attacking you!"

"He saved my life, Dad," Hiccup replied. "He's not the enemy."

"He practices deviltry, Hiccup!"

"Stop calling it that! This is why I didn't come to you. Magic is just another tool, like a longboat or a hammer. It's what you use it for that matters."

"Hiccup, it's unnatural. Talking dragons, bones that walk, metal that moves…"

"Yes, Dad, it's scary. It scared me when I first encountered it. But that doesn't make Nestor or Arc bad by default. Have you learned nothing from last time?"

"Did I learn nothing?" Stoic gripped the chair's back so hard the wood moaned under the pressure. "Our village is in danger. Our relations with the Gunnarr are in danger."

"Believe me, Dad, I've been trying as hard as I can to keep Berk out of this. I almost succeeded until the Seer went and made that proclamation."

"Perhaps the Seer is correct, Hiccup."

Hiccup's eyes turned fierce and angry. "Dad, listen to yourself. You're willing to listen to the Seer, but not Nestor… or me? How is what she does not deviltry?"

"Her visions come from the Gods."

"Not according to her. She told me herself that she doesn't know where they come from, and you'd think she'd be the one to know. So, again, how is she different?"

"She's… she's a…" Stoic stammered as he realized that his son might have a valid point.

"She's a Viking, right? Because the Gunnarr are cool with it, right? Which makes it okay in your book."

Stoic could see the hypocrisy, though he was loathed to admit it. He spared the chair further pain by letting go of it and pacing, his temper fading as he walked. "Even if I was willing to trust someone like Nestor, and that's a big if, it doesn't excuse the fact that you lied to me all this time."

"No, it doesn't," admitted Hiccup sadly, his brief flirtation with anger ended. "I thought I was doing the right thing and protecting everyone from this mess. But it's like I'm caught in a whirlpool and it all just keeps coming back at me over and over."

Stoic ceased his pacing and took back his seat. Seeing the helpless look on his son's face reminded him of the vow he took after his son's battle with Red Death. Don't let pride blind you again, Stoic, he had told himself. It almost cost you your son once. It almost cost you everything.

He took a deep breath, sighed out the last of his anger, and said, "I hate to say it, but it's not like I haven't given you reason to doubt me. I didn't handle things very well last time, to put it mildly. I guess I wanted to believe that you and I were… better."

"Dad, we are," replied Hiccup reassuringly. "A thousand times better. That's why I'm coming to you now, so we can fix this together. That's why I'm asking for your help."

Stoic snorted. "My help? You've handled this insanity better than I could have."

"But you know the Gunnarr better than I do. We just need some way to get them off Nestor's back, so we can get some scouts out looking for Arc and Cervantes."

Stoic shook his head in denial. "There's nothing I can offer that would make them ignore the words of their Seer. I doubt I can even convince our own people."

"There has to be something you can do, Dad," said Hiccup.

"Hiccup, I can't wave my hands and make everything fall into place. If your friend was a Viking, we might have had recourse under our current laws to…"

Stoic suddenly got that look he made when an idea materialized in his hardened skull. Leaving Hiccup behind to wallow in his confusion, Stoic went over to a shoddy desk in the far corner of the room, a desk overflowing with parchments and curled-up scrolls that he tried his best to ignore most days, and started shifting through the accumulated pile. It took several minutes of searching, Hiccup watching and keeping his mouth shut the entire time, but Stoic eventually returned to his chair with a torn and tattered scroll in his hands.

"I've had to brush up on our treaty laws for the summit," explained Stoic, handing his son the scroll. "Stonefist likes to do things by the book, and that might help us here. There's one very archaic treaty law that no one's bothered to use in the last century, but it's still part of the old treaty. That said, I don't think you're going to like it."

The aged parchment was so frail that breathing hard on it would destroy it, but the runes inked upon it were legible. Hiccup read the law carefully, checking the wording again to make sure he was reading it correctly. No, he didn't like it at all, but at least it was something.

The sun was taking its sweet time rising into the early aqua-blue sky this morning, or so if felt to Hiccup. He knew his escalating anxiety made the sun seem like it was trying to hide, but he could've really used some warming sunshine right about now.

At this hour, only a few villagers meandered about the grassy paths or lingered at doorways. It allowed Hiccup and Nestor to walk right up to the doors to the Great Hall without any questions about whom Hiccup's new friend was, though Hiccup was pretty sure that someone had watched them pass by. It was hard to hide anything new in a small village.

Under the still-glowing torches that marked the entrance to the Hall, Hiccup and Nestor halted and stared at the mammoth wooden things, both of them hoping to feel a boost of confidence before they entered and knowing it wouldn't happen. Hiccup had expected to spend most of today fretting about the dragon squad event occurring later in the afternoon, not considering the likelihood of his friend getting butchered in front of his eyes.

He almost brought Toothless along for support, but the dragon's presence would only exacerbate things with the Gunnarr. This was his and Nestor's time to sink or swim – they'd get no help from anyone else, not even his dad.

That was the worst part of it – for this to not wreck the summit, his dad couldn't get involved in any way. It had to look like this was Hiccup's handiwork. Hiccup's reputation for bucking the status quo would certainly help here – whether or not it would be enough to keep Nestor alive remained to be seen.

"Morning people, the Gunnarr," commented Nestor. "You sure they're all in there?"

"They like to eat together," said Hiccup. "A few of my people will be in there, but don't expect any help from them."

"Wouldn't matter. Barrier-field or not, a hundred Vikings is too many to fight all at once."

"Not too late to change your mind," suggested Hiccup. "You can still hide out for the next three days."

Nestor shook his head, a response Hiccup expected. "Arc needs me right now, not three days from now. You don't have to come inside with me, though."

It was Hiccup's turn to shake his head. "Then I wouldn't be much of a friend, would I?"

Nestor managed a smile and so did Hiccup. It was weird how friendships could form under the most bizarre of situations, and Hiccup truly hoped that today wouldn't be the end of his friendship with Nestor.

Then they went inside, and immediately all Hiccup could think about was how truly stupid-crazy this plan of theirs was.

"So I'm thinking of letting Fenrir rip up one of the dummies," said Snotlout, keeping his voice low so that the Gunnarr seated on the other end of the Hall couldn't hear his idea. "That should really freak them out."

"We're not changing the plans, Snotlout," declared Astrid in a distracted manner, sitting opposite to Snotlout at their prearranged table with the other Dragon Squad riders. She faced the doors so she could watch for Hiccup, hoping he wouldn't be late for their final briefing.

"What's wrong with a little improvisation?" replied Snotlout. "You had to admit that Fenrir really put the hurt on that dummy."

"You also nearly got cooked," commented Ruffnut, sitting next to Astrid.

"Details," said Snotlout.

"You guys will let me go first, right?" asked Fishlegs, parked next to Snotlout. "I don't want Chomps to get shown up too badly by everyone else. It's not good for his ego."

"As long as he nails his share of the kills, he'll look like death from above," said Tuffnut, adjacent to his sister.

As Fishlegs's bulk blocked the view for the twins, it was Astrid who first spotted Hiccup furtively enter the Hall. Some of her anxiety melted away upon seeing Hiccup, as she had had this crazy notion that something would crop up and ruin their well-prepared plans at the last minute. She half-expected Hiccup to fly off to warn Nestor, or somehow fall into a pit of skele-monsters or…

Then Nestor followed Hiccup into the Hall, and her anxiety tripled in an instant.

The two of them began walking down the center of the Hall, straight to the table that housed Stonefist, Cragfist, and the Seer, all blissfully eating their mutton. Other eyes had noticed them as well, some turning around in their seats to watch the son of Stoic escort the complete stranger in their midst. The murmuring in the Hall increased to a dull roar.

Astrid hadn't realized she had lost control of her lower jaw until Snotlout said, "Wow, what's with the face, Astrid? That's not a good face you're making."

Astrid briefly locked eyes with Hiccup when he looked their way, putting a finger to his mouth and pleading with his eyes. She was already speechless, so keeping silent wasn't a problem, but she mouthed the word No! at him, trying to deflect him from his current course, her heart hammering as she awaited the dreadful response they were about to witness. No effect, of course, but her reaction prompted the other young Vikings to look Hiccup's direction.

"Who's that?" said Fishlegs. "Doesn't look like one of the Gunnarr."

"I don't think he's a Viking," said Tuffnut. "He's got that Mainland look to him."

Ruffnut's eyes widened as she spoke up. "Does anyone else think he might be… you know?"

Snotlout shook his head in amazement. "If it is, then this is going to be one exciting breakfast."

"May we have a word?"

Nestor said it point-blank to the Seer, right as Stonefist and his table guests looked up to see the two young men standing a foot away.

The Seer glanced up from her plate of bland grub, her eyes hidden underneath her hood but unmistakably fixed on Nestor. She froze for a second, and then stood up so fast that she knocked her seat over in the process. Like a school of sharks descending on an injured dolphin, the Gunnarr rapidly and fearsomely rose en masse, grabbing their weapons off the floor in one noisy and alarming display of disciplined action.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, easy!" said Hiccup as he and Nestor held up their hands in an effort to calm the surrounding crowd. A chorus of clanging axes and threatening grunts added to the difficulty of speaking.

"We're here to talk things out. You know, like people who aren't at war with each other do," said Hiccup. "As our guests, you owe us that much." Invoking hospitality seemed to calm the Vikings down enough to keep them from attacking, which allowed Hiccup to keep talking. "Nestor here was taking shelter on the far side of the island for the last few days and he just happens to match the mysterious-stranger part of the Seer's warning. So we'll just clear the matter up and show that he's not a threat to anyone."

His words did much to halt the Gunnarr in their tracks, though they were more than ready to charge, Cragfist sneering at Hiccup with murderous intent and looking for an excuse to swing his spiked warhammer into someone's skull.

"What matters right now is whether or not this man before us is the Outlander," said Stonefist, holding his war mace menacingly. "Seer, what say you?"

"I'm right here, you know," said Nestor. "Why don't you ask me? My name is Nestor and…"

"What you say is irrelevant," interrupted Stonefist. "Seer?"

The Seer hadn't moved to brandish a weapon, not unless she was hiding one underneath her cloak. She took her time stepping around Nestor, making him feel like he was being inspected for hoof-and-mouth disease or leprosy. She gave his face the most scrutiny, as if looking for a singular facial clue that would condemn him. Then she stepped back and said, "I cannot tell."

"What?" said Cragfist, his frustration mimicked by many others. "You're the one with the visions."

"My visions did not give me a face," she stated. "This man could be many things."

"Exactly," said Hiccup, hoping he'd just found a simple way out of this situation. "And if the Seer can't be sure, maybe he's not the one in your visions. So I'm suggesting that you let us…"

Hiccup didn't finish his sentence before Cragfist whipped out a throwing knife from his belt sheath and aimed it straight at Nestor's neck. A few onlookers cried out in alarm, but none intervened before the knife flew from his fingers. Nestor reacted too slow, his attempt to dodge causing the knife to bounce off his left shoulder and clang to the stone floor, his brilliant magic barrier lighting up the Hall for everyone to see.

Cragfist smiled triumphantly. "I think that settles the matter."

The whispered awe and anger coming from the crowd grew deafening, cries of deviltry and Outlander piercing the din with increasing frequency. A wall of bodies now encircled Hiccup and Nestor, cutting off any escape. Nestor grimaced at Hiccup and said, "What'd I tell you? One in every village."

"It is just as well that you brought the Outlander before us, son of Stoic," said Stonefist, advancing toward Nestor with his son at his side. "The Seer has guided us once again. This man is no man, but a corruption of the natural order. We will spare you and your village from his harmful influence and take him from here."

"I have not yet said that he is the Outlander," said the Seer.

Stonefist gave her a questioning look. "How much more evidence do you need, Seer? He glows with deviltry. It protects him."

"That may be," she replied, "but it takes more than magic tricks to wear a title."

As Stonefist and the Seer bickered over Nestor, Hiccup leaned over to his friend and muttered, "If you're going to do it, do it now."

Nestor nodded grimly, seeing little recourse but to proceed with the plan. He squared his shoulders, attempted to be as imposing as his thin frame allowed, and loudly proclaimed to the Hall, "By the treaty of Halbart and Nine-Fingers, as witnessed by those present, I invoke the Trial of Tyr, that my accuser and I do submit to the providence of the God of Justice."

Few things can make a hall full of agitated Vikings clam up all at once. Nestor's proclamation did just that. As silence washed over the crowd, Nestor leaned over to Hiccup and muttered, "That didn't sound too rehearsed, did it?"

"Ah… no, no, it came off very naturally," Hiccup replied.

"How do you know this law?" said Stonefist, a question he could already guess the answer to as he shot Hiccup the evil eye.

"Why does it matter?" said Cragfist. "He is no Viking. The law does not apply to him."

"Ah, but you have to read the fine print," said Hiccup. "The law states that anyone living on the lands of Berk or the Gunnarr may ask for the Trial. That covers Nestor."

"This is ridiculous," complained Cragfist, but his father held up a hand to prevent future outbursts. Stonefist's glowering expression chilled Hiccup's blood. It was possible that Stonefist wouldn't honor the law, might just ignore it and take Nestor anyway. No one would try to stop him if he did. To the crowd, Nestor was nothing more than a deviltry-wielding stranger.

"The Gunnarr honor all laws," said Stonefist, eliciting another wave of murmurs before his hand came up again to silence the crowd. "On this day, we will begin the Trial of Tyr. Brave Gunnarr, which of you will stand for our people?"

"Me!" yelled Cragfist, thumping his chest as he took a step forward. "I will…"

"You are inadequate," the Seer calmly stated, stepping past Cragfist and facing the crowd. "Outlander or not, this is no mere man we face. I will stand for our people." Cragfist opened his mouth to argue, but one stolid glance from the Seer made him change his mind and step back to his father's side.

The Seer's declaration shocked many in the room, especially Hiccup and Nestor. They had expected Nestor to face off with a husky Gunnarr warrior, not the Seer. Not Astrid's supposed friend, not the same Seer that had warned Hiccup about "difficult choices."

Stonefist didn't appear happy with the Seer's choice, but neither did he oppose it. "Very well," he said coldly. "Who will be her Second?"

"Me!" declared Cragfist once again. "I will…"

"Wait a tick," said Nestor, caught by surprise. "Second?"

"Yes, Second," affirmed Stonefist. "Another must join each side during the Trial to show that their village stands behind them. Were you not aware of this?"

Nestor and Hiccup exchanged helpless looks. "I think that part got rubbed off our copy of the treaty," said Hiccup.

Stonefist grinned, sensing that he had the means to end this inconvenient Trial of Tyr business right now. "Regardless of your ignorance, we cannot conduct a Trial without a Second for the accused. Will any Berkian stand for this man?"

Predictably, no Berkian came forward, choosing to shake their heads derisively at the notion of defending Nestor. Hiccup looked around for a friendly face and found none. He looked for Astrid and his friends, but the solid wall of Gunnarr muscle blocked them from his sight. Not that he wanted any of them involved, but some support wouldn't have hurt right about now.

Nestor shook his head emphatically at Hiccup, telling him not to do it. Had Hiccup's dad been around, he'd be bashing his way through the crowd and dragging Hiccup away before he could speak. This was the mother of all bad decisions, and once he made it no one, not even Toothless, would be able to help him, not without breaking the treaty and shoving Berk into a war.

Risking everything for a friend – well, why stop now?

"I'll be his Second," Hiccup declared.

Accommodating a hundred extra warm bodies is never an easy task. Berk had very few homes not occupied by families, so most of the Gunnarr camped outside or found room in the Great Hall to sleep. One gloomy, drafty, unfurnished hovel on the outskirts of the village had been set-aside for Stonefist and his family and advisors. Stoic had offered something more hospitable, but Stonefist nixed the idea. He did accept a pile of fur blankets as gifts. Normally even that was too much for Stonefist - too much coddling made for softer bodies - but he accepted the furs without complaint.

With his son and the Seer joining him for a quick conference inside, the Gunnarr chief hardly cared about the Spartan nature of the guesthouse.

Spartan - he loved the term. He had little respect for Mainlanders and their history, but the Spartans were a different story. Brutal soldiers without peer, the historians talked as if they were the greatest warriors of all time. It was a shame that he would never meet one, a bigger shame that he would never fight one and see how a Gunnarr measured up in comparison.

"We'll commence the Trial shortly after noonday," said Cragfist, having arrived a few minutes prior to report on the Berkians' preparations. "They're readying a section of the island for the Trial. Some locale called the Wasteland." Cragfist sniggered. "I doubt the cowards would know a true wasteland even if they were crawling on their hands and knees through it."

"The location is irrelevant," said Stonefist. "What matters is that you leave Stoic's boy alive, my son."

"What?" said Cragfist. "I'm well within my right to…"

Stonefist grabbed Cragfist's scrawny beard and yanked him closer, forcing his son to lock eyes with him. "You heard the screaming back at the village, did you not? That was Stoic learning of his son's decision. Treaty or no treaty, Stoic will not forgive us if any harm comes to his son, and he is known for rash action when enraged. The Outlander, on the other hand, is fair game."

"He is mine," said the Seer.

Stonefist released Cragfist and whirled on the Seer, her hood thrown back as she met him with her own stony gaze. "Are you addled, Seer? First you contradict me in front of everyone and then you turn around and agree to fight this stranger in the Trial. Is he or is he not the Outlander?"

"I do not know for sure," she said. "But it does not matter. His deviltry is apparent, and he has put the honor of our tribe on the line. I will end him."

"I will end him," said Cragfist. "It is my honor to do so, not yours."

"This is not a time for your pride to overtake your intellect," said the Seer, "though I grant you that it takes little to do so."

"Oh, that tongue of yours," growled Cragfist. "If you weren't the Seer…"

"Then you'd be dead at her hands long ago," said Stonefist. "She bests you every time you spar, my son. She bests all of us. If she says she can defeat the stranger, then…"

A rhythmic tapping sound began to echo around the room, interrupting the conversation. All three of them looked to the source – a loose stone in the middle of the floor rattling up and down in a predictable pattern of three taps followed by two more. It did this several times, the tapping growing stronger as it repeated.

"Leave me," ordered Stonefist. "This is for my eyes only." Cragfist and the Seer complied, though the Seer lingered long enough to give him a reproachful glare before leaving.

Alone, Stonefist went to the moving stone and rapped on the top of the stone with the heel of his boot. Three raps, followed by two more. The stone then levitated out of its hole, sliding out and falling onto the floor as the thing that abided underneath it floated free before Stonefist.

It was an average-sized human skull without its lower jaw, perfectly white and clean despite living in the soil with the worms and beetles. Its sockets contained living shadows within, reminding Stonefist of every nightmare he'd ever had… and the ones yet to come.

The darkness spilled out of the sockets and the ghostly image of a man dressed in rags and bones formed before him. The man gave the chief a perfunctory greeting and said, "I trust the summit goes well, Chief Stonefist."

"We've hit a complication," said Stonefist. "The one you call Nestor has been found, but he learned of the Trial of Tyr and I cannot remove him from the island. The Seer will kill him, though."

"I am pleased that your Seer has gotten on board with our plans," stated Cervantes. "Her earlier reluctance concerned me, as did this Outlander nonsense she deems important. But whether Archibald's lackey lives or dies matters little. I only need Nestor out of the way. If this Trial accomplishes that, so be it."

"If this trial goes badly, our treaty with Berk might fall apart."

"Why do you care, Stonefist? Do you fear their dragons that much? Are you beginning to have second thoughts?"

It unnerved him deeply, dealing with this death-mage. It unnerved his people, almost to the brink of insurrection. Only the fear of having dragon talons and teeth descend on them from on high outweighed their fear of Cervantes. Deviltry against dragons – it was a poor choice to have to make, but Stonefist bore it for his clan.

"No, but you have yet to live up to your end of our bargain, necromancer," said Stonefist. "Stoic's dragons remain a threat to me, and I will not jeopardize the future of my people until you come through on your promises."

Cervantes paused to consider his answer, then said, "I can speed things up on my side, but you must do me an additional favor. Take my servant out to the forest and order two of your most trusted warriors to stand with it until it begins to move on its own. They will follow it, and they will obey any orders it gives."

"To what end?"

"Your Seer works in mysterious ways. So do I. I only ask that whatever your men bring you must then be brought to me immediately. Conclude things as you may with Stoic, but always keep in mind where your priorities lie. Very shortly, you will never need to honor another treaty again."

Toothless's mighty paws tossed clod after clod of packed dirt into the air, showering the pond with flying earth and rippling the water. Hiccup wisely kept away from the dragon as he dug under Nestor's chosen boulder, the one with the myssteel axe buried underneath. Nestor was stuck in Gunnarr custody, awaiting the Trial, but Hiccup had mobility and he was using it while he still had it. Toothless didn't have an exact location – Nestor hadn't been that specific with his directions – but he tore into the ground around the mossy-green boulder with plenty of gusto. He'd find the axe even if he had to dig up all of Sanctuary to do it.

A couple of dirty minutes later, Hiccup noticed that one of the oversized clods behind Toothless had an axe-like shape. He told Toothless to hold on further digging as he walked over to inspect it. Brushing off the caked-on dirt, he found a dirty blanket wrapped around the axe he'd made for Astrid.

Toothless sauntered over to Hiccup as he inspected the axe for dings or blemishes on the axe head. Still perfect. Even the dirt couldn't find purchase, sliding right off it as if repealed by the metal's very touch. A fine weapon, even if it lacked panache or style… or if you ignored the fact that it could slice through rock like it was liquid.

"Thanks, bud," said Hiccup to Toothless, placing the axe at his feet and scratching behind his companion's ears. He hated how out of control his life had become again, but he could always take comfort in Toothless's unwavering loyalty. Sadly, it was that very loyalty that he had to confront now, and it pained him to do it.

"Here's the thing, Toothless," he began, putting his arms around Toothless's neck and hugging the dragon to him. "I wasn't smart last time. I didn't think you could run to my rescue. I know better now. I even thought about tricking you into a harness or a cage, but I'm not going to. We've been through too much together for me to pull anything like that on you. Do you understand?"

Hiccup could feel the dragon tense up against him, his eyes staring fearfully, his ears at half-mast. Hiccup closed his eyes in the hopes of keeping his spirit from faltering through the rest of his speech.

"No matter what you hear, not matter how bad it sounds, you can't come save me," he whispered. "Got it? If you show up and ruin the Trial, it could start a war. This is bigger than you and me, buddy. So I need you to understand, Toothless. I need you to stay here until I come back… or until someone else does. Please tell me you understand, that you'll do what I ask."

He tightened his grip on Toothless and watched the dragon for a sign of acquiescence, but all he was getting was a fearful, sad expression. He was asking too much, asking Toothless to let his friend get hurt… or worse. It might be easier to ask him to sever a wing than to ask him to do nothing.

But the dragon relented at last, closing his eyes and nodding his head ever so slightly. It almost broke his heart, making Hiccup hug Toothless even tighter. He wanted to promise his friend that it was going to go okay but his mouth refused to open and utter a lie on his behalf.

"Nestor's on my side, pal," he whispered. "We'll survive this." He repeated the phrase several times, trying to convince himself as much as his dragon.

He should've gone straight back to the village center, but instead Hiccup detoured to his home and spent several minutes waiting for his intestines to stop quivering, along with the rest of him.

In the enclosed and noxious space of the outhouse, Hiccup collected his wits. It hadn't been this bad in the past, when he was about to stare down a massive, toothy dragon with pyromaniacal issues in front of hundreds of his clansmen. This time, no amount of kind words and sympathy would save him from his opponent's wrath.

The Trial of Tyr was a really a trial of combat. The accused or the accuser had to successfully bring a carved idol of the god Tyr to the anointed finishing line, thus showing the favor of Tyr. Alternatively, one fell dead at the hands of the other, which basically meant the same thing. The good news for Hiccup was that the Seconds didn't share the same do-or-die conditions, but Seconds did have the habit of dying anyway. The whole business was idiotic, a law rightfully abandoned to the bitter past. But now it was the only thing keeping Nestor out of the hands of the Gunnarr.

He exited the outhouse feeling stable but still plenty unhappy, throwing the creaking door wide to air the place out… and almost running smack into Astrid. He didn't recoil in surprise, his nerves already long exhausted, but the very concerned expression she wore and the way she tightly gripped her axe almost started his intestines a-quivering again.

"Can everyone just stop surprising me for one day?" commented Hiccup. "How do you find me all the time?"

"You're predictable in your own way," she replied. "Hiccup…"

"Don't, please," he interrupted, trying to stop yet another concerned-caring-friend speech. "I'm in over my head, Astrid, and that's all there is to it. You were right, and so here I am with half the village thinking I'm a deviltry lover and the other half thinking I'm about to die. But I don't regret it, because this isn't about Nestor... Well, okay, a big chunk of it is, but it's also about doing what's right."

"I know."

Dumbfounded by her reply, Hiccup stammered, "I… I expected an argument."

Astrid shook her head somberly. "No, it is about what's right, Hiccup. It shouldn't be you doing it, but you wouldn't be you if you weren't in the middle of it. So I came to wish you… good luck."

Hiccup tried to smile to reassure her and only got half his face to cooperate. "Ah, who needs luck? I'll just be a decoy while Nestor beats the snot out of the Seer and that thug-of-a-Viking."

She frowned at his semi-serious bravado. "You haven't seen the Seer fight, Hiccup. I don't think either of you know what you're getting into."

"No, but I have seen Nestor fight. I'll take my chances with him."

Without further comment, she then held out her prized double-bladed axe and offered it to him. "It's a very reliable axe."

"Thanks, but you know I can't swing it," he replied, taking her uncharacteristically unconditional support and running with it. "But that does remind me…"

He walked around the outhouse and grabbed the wrapped axe he had leaned against the wall. Then it was his turn to do the offering to Astrid. "I wanted to present it in a more colorful package, but I don't have the time."

Curious, Astrid put down her axe and took the offered one, quickly unwrapping the dirt-stained blanket and studying the new axe in her hands as if she was unclear of the big deal. The look on her face turned priceless as she recognized the type of metal that composed the axe blade.

"Is this…?" she dared ask.

"It sure is," Hiccup replied.

She twirled it in the air and made a few insanely quick practice swings safely away from Hiccup. An instant natural fit – Hiccup's tired smile widened at her joy.

"It's incredible, Hiccup," she beamed.

"And it's yours," he added. "It was always supposed to be yours. You've trusted me over and over when you had every reason not to. So I trust you with this. Just… be careful. That thing can…"

Her arms were around him before he even knew it, having tossed aside the myssteel axe and her body now squeezing his almost painfully but very affectionately. He gladly took the pressure and squeezed back, allowing for one pure moment of happiness before the Trial horn blew and everything got dangerous.

"I'm reeling you in, Hiccup," she softly said into his ear.

"Not sure what you mean, but okay," he replied, wishing he could stay right here but knowing that he needed to detach himself from Astrid shortly.

She pushed him out to arm's length, her hands on his shoulders, a warm smile on her face. "You'll understand soon enough," she said. Feeling his own affection for her grow almost overwhelming, he waited eagerly as her mouth approached his, Hiccup offering no resistance as…

…As she shoved him hard backwards, Hiccup's arms flailing as he fell upon the outhouse toilet, the structure rocking from the impact.

In one deft series of calculated moves, Astrid grabbed her old axe, slammed shut the outhouse door, and braced her weapon up against it. She then retrieved her new axe and slung it over her shoulder, giving the outhouse a final glance as Hiccup stirred and demanded vehemently for Astrid to let him out. She could see the top of his head through the little ventilation slit in the door. He was quite okay, though also quite upset.

"Astrid!" he yelled.

"Sorry, Hiccup," she replied as she began running for her home and Beatrix, "but like I said, you shouldn't be the one doing it."