Chapter 30

"Land, ho!"

That's what I heard as I roused myself from an uneasy sleep. We must have been travelling for nearly a week now, so you would think I would be used to waking up on the back of a dragon with my snout smashed against an arm. Still made me jump. At least the smell was nice.

I stretched. Bones creaked as I put my wings through the same motions that a waking human would put their arms through. My tail put itself through its own routine.

"Almost there, Hiccup," Astrid said. She leaned forward slightly, eyes focused on some distant sight.

I sat up. In the distance, Berk beckoned me. Even without the shadows of dragons orbiting the village, I knew it was my home. The snow-tipped rock spires towered over the village like steadfast guardians. Ships laid in the harbour, flags fluttering. One had its nets stuffed with fish, and small Viking-forms scurried back and forth on the docks, unloading it. Most of them had the heavyset form of my father, but none of them had that distinct hair colour.

Toothless brought us down, so that we were about the same height above the water as the docks. We passed through twin, stone statues of Vikings with fire in their mouths, and as we zipped past them and towards Berk, we finally ceased to be invisible to Berk. At least Snotlout and Astrid did. Toothless and I were probably still hard to notice. I couldn't hear anyone, but some of the children were running along the island's edge, no doubt shouting news of our arrival.

I'll assume that's why Dad exited the Great Hall just as we landed in the village square. Villagers gathered around, but there was a clear line of sight between us and him. Others left the Great Hall after him. The heavy oak doors slammed shut with a thud, the only sound for miles.

His footsteps were eerily silent. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes. Despite that, there was a nobility and readiness in the way he carried himself, like he had just woken from a deep sleep, fresh in the morning. His expression had been tight, but as if all the strings holding it there had been cut, it relaxed all at once. His smile was not one of shock or even relief, but more like expectation.

"You're alright." Dad's weight nearly collapsed onto Toothless as he bent to grab me, making the dragon shy away. I squirmed on instinct – not to run away, but to get closer. It felt like I hadn't seen him in years.

"Everyone's accounted for, Chief," Astrid said. She untied her homemade saddle, and said, "Now, I'm going to take a nice long nap in my bed."

Dad chuckled, patting her on the back as she trudged past. He turned to Snotlout. Smile and tone teeming with warmth, he said, "I'm glad you see back safe, too."

". . . Yeah," Snotlout said, eyes fixed on his lap.

"Okay, everyone!" Dad spoke to the crowd now, voice carrying over the roofs and far away. "It's been a long journey for these four, so give them some space."

To the Vikings who had followed him out of the Great Hall, he said, "We'll discuss more tomorrow."

After spending so long sitting in Astrid's arms and lap, Dad felt weird by comparison. His arms were thicker than hers, stronger than hers were. His skin didn't give as much when I pushed my paws against it. And there was a lot of hair. I couldn't really feel it, but it changed the friction between us. He held me differently too. Astrid always went for cradling, or otherwise supporting me from underneath. Dad had one hand underneath, and the other on top of me. His hands were big enough that it worked.

On the brink of jogging, he headed towards our house. Not fast enough though to evade Gobber, who appeared out of absolutely nowhere and latched onto Dad's shoulder. "Ah, so the wayward heir has found his way home. Did a cute lady dragon catch your eye?"

Dad growled, "We both know perfectly well what happened."

"Sure, sure, but that's all in the past. Let's lighten up the mood a little!"

"Later," Dad said. "I still need to hear what happened from Hiccup himself."

I swallowed. That was something I had to do, wasn't it?

"If you say so."

Dad gestured backwards. "If you don't mind, could you find him something to eat? He must have been flying for a long time."

I crawled up to Dad's shoulder so I could see who he was referring to . . . and immediately felt ashamed that I had forgotten about Toothless.

"Whatever you say, Stoick!"

Dad waved off the Fishlegs and the twins as they crept up on us. Some of the resident dragons kept an eye on us, too, watching from roofs or peeking from behind barrels. Back in the square with Astrid and Snotlout, Stormfly was clucking loudly, wings flapping in excitement. She was too excited to truly land, and kept dancing around her rider on her tiptoes.

"Not the face! Not the face!"

Looks like Snotlout had remembered how to walk. Not that he had much choice, since a flaming, angry Hookfang was chasing him around.

Dad took us into the house. Toothless didn't follow us, since he was too busy enjoying a delicious, smelly meal, but Dad pulled up the shutters on one window for when he decided to make his dramatic entrance. I was dropped unceremoniously on a table. Dad walked away and started shifting through a pile of random things. Rude.

"Are you okay, Hiccup? Is there anything I can get you? Did you need anything to eat, or drink?"

"I'm not going to say no . . ."

Dad turned around. He held a clay mug in each hand. He stared at me, brow furrowing. Then, he shuffled away towards the water barrel, muttering, "Right, water."

He poured himself a mugful of ale. The table shook as he set the mug down, and pushed the water-filled one towards me. Not that I was ungrateful or anything . . . but a drink sounded pretty good right now. Dad wouldn't mind if a stole a few tongue-fulls, right?

Turns out, he found it pretty funny. I swallowed down the bitter liquid, washing down the rest of the taste with saliva. It tasted odd on a dragon's tongue. If I hadn't known what it really was, I would have drank more, just out of curiosity.

"Here." Dad set some parchment and a quill down in front of me. "You'll be able to write down what happened on this. Take your time. I know you must be exhausted."

I scrawled some words, but not what he was expecting. What are the Berserkers planning?

He sighed heavily, and took a big swig of his ale. "Still figuring that out. I'll assume Astrid filled you in on what happened with Dagur. Nobody's blaming you. I can't say that I'm upset to see Oswald's son go, either. Just wish it didn't happen like this. We got back here before the Berserkers could retaliate, but we don't know what they're thinking. We're drawing up defense plans, just in case.

"Now that the tribes know what happened to you, we've lost the support of the Bog Burglars and the Lava Louts, as well. The Burglars are scared of the beasts, and the Louts seem to fear that you caught some sickness from the dragons, and that's why you transformed."

The mug fell back on the table with a sharp sound. "We'd also gotten some information out of the rest of the Berserkers. They say Dagur was encouraged to attack you by some outsider named Eret. That much true?"

I nodded.

A faint scowl crossed his face, so faint that if we hadn't been family, I probably wouldn't have noticed. "Am I correct in saying he's the one that took you?"

I nodded again.

"And Snotlout was just in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . I'm glad you had someone with you, though."

If I were still capable of human expressions, I would have been given away right there. Snotlout. Nobody, not even Astrid, knew about what he had done. Except me.

"You take your time with writing that," Stoick said. "I doubt it will sway the Berserkers either way."

As he walked away, I stared down at the parchment. This was going to take a long time. I know he wanted to get the story straight from me, but it'd be a lot easier if he just talked to Snotlout.

"Hey, Dad?"

Even though he heard me, Dad couldn't understand enough to know I was trying to talk to him. He kept his back to me, bent over the fire pit, and coaxed it alight. He must have gotten it into his head that I needed food after that journey. Which I certainly didn't mind. Some fresh fish would be nice after all the rabbit I'd eaten.

"I'll be back soon," Dad said. "Just need to get some fresh meat."

"Dad, I . . ."

But Dad assumed my squeaks were an acknowledgement, and swiftly left the house. I stared after him, and then down at my paw. I lifted it, and tried to turn it over at the wrist, although that didn't work very well. Focusing on my toes, I grit my teeth and tried to open them the way human fingers opened.

It was an utter failure. I sighed, and continued to stare.

"Hiccup?"

"Shh, he's sleeping."

I had to blink several times to clear the gunk out of my eyes. My memory came back to me slowly. I had been writing down my side of the story and gotten pretty far, but it had been a boring, thankless task. Especially since I was forced to write much slower than I normally was capable of. I scanned my chicken-scratch letters, noting the area at the end where my lines went on longer than they should and in odd directions. Must have dozed off around there.

"I'm awake," I said, extending my wings to make sure they noticed.

Dad was sitting at the head of the table, Toothless beside him. He had his head in Dad's lap, and one of Dad's hands were right behind his ear. I almost wanted to kick myself for missing what had probably been a cute scene.

Back in the corner, close to the fire pit, Skullcrusher dozed. In the opposite direction, Fishlegs peeked in the front door. He held a small book close to his face, so that it blocked the sight of his jaw. In his other hand, he had . . .

The sack swung as he pushed it forward. "Uh, I thought you might be hungry."

Yes. Yes. I may have ate not that long ago, but eating something that was more than charred in a fire was music to my ears. Saliva pooled in my mouth as my tail whipped in excitement.

Dad laughed as the sack flew through the air, and landed with a thud. He had to hold Toothless back as I dashed forward, and gulped the first fish down. Ah, this was great. I can't remember anything that had tasted this good.

Fishlegs walked over. His knuckles had turned a mottled colour from his grip on the book. "Astrid said that I should show you what I found."

I instantly stopped savouring my meal. "That's a good idea."

Even though Dad must have already known what it was, he leaned forward in his chair as Fishlegs put the witch's journal on the tabletop. He opened it up to the first page, and slipped out a loose piece of paper.

"Everything I wrote on here is straight from the journal," he said. He pushed it at me. "You should read it yourself."

So I did. And the further down the page I went, the further my heart dropped into my stomach. All of these quotes were sinister, but not too concerning by themselves, but placed in one area like this, where you could see there had been an arching theme throughout the witch's journal, there was only one real conclusion that could be drawn.

"War," I breathed. "She wanted to use this for war. Someone wanted her to find a way to create an army that could turn into dragons."

I grabbed my quill and wrote two words. Who?

Dad said, "I don't believe it's any of us. Of the two Chiefs that I would have thought possible of such an underhanded plot, one is dead and the other is our sworn ally. The only other I could suspect is Chief Ranvir, but this seems too devious even for him."

"So, nothing."

Dad turned his head and looked into the depths of the smouldering fire pit. Orange light danced in his eyes. "There is one other man. It has been a very long time since we last crossed paths, but he is the only other person I can think of. He claimed to be able to control dragons, and there must have been some truth to it because when we turned him away, he turned our Great Hall into an inferno.

"His name is Drago Bludvist."

Fishlegs and I froze. I had only been a kid back then, so the ancient memories should have been hazy, if I was able to recall them at all. But they weren't. They were crystal clear. I remembered the massacre. I remembered screaming, held back by Gobber as fire razed the building that held my father and the other chiefs. He had been the only one to make it out alive.

Fishlegs swallowed hard. " . . . That was the guy who wasn't a Viking, right?"

Dad nodded. He picked up the journal, studying it with disgust. "Aye. I wouldn't put it past a madman like him to create a plan like this."

The journal slammed back onto the table like a gavel.

"What do we do now?" Fishlegs asked in the ensuring silence.

"Nothing we can do," Dad said. "Nobody knows where Drago went afterwards. We'll prepare for a possible attack by the Berserkers, then wait and see."

I didn't like that. It felt like there was a target drawn on my back.

As Fishlegs and Dad talked to each other, I scanned over the incriminatory page again. Nope. Nothing about a cure. I knew Astrid had already told me that, but still, I had hoped . . .

I shook my head. Better not to dwell on that. Focus now on the problems we already have. The Berserkers were violent. That much was fact. Even if they weren't actually upset over Dagur's death, they might attack us anyways just for fun. But if they were, there was a chance we could talk them down. But at least we knew something about them. Drago, as far as I was concerned, was a complete mystery. I'd bet that he would have been happy to see me though, and know that the witch had discovered half the puzzle –

At once, the words flashed back to me:

"Drago will murder us if the Night Fury drowns!"

It . . . it couldn't be the same person, could it?

But the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became.

Drago knows, I wrote. Eret works for him.

" . . . That's not good," Fishlegs said.

"So be it." Dad rubbed his brow. After, he read through what I had written so far about Snotlout and mine's little adventure. "This dragon rider you found, you say she lives in the Northern country, within the area that the dragon trappers were travelling through. Does she know anything else about them, or their master?"

I cocked my head. Don't know. Didn't ask.

"She might be our best bet," Dad said. His wooden chair creaked as he pushed away from the table. "If Drago Bludvist is truly looking to create an army of dragons and has his sights set on you, then we can't stumble about blindly. We need to know everything we can."

I knew what was in his mind, and dreaded it. Although I had only written up to the part where we arrived at the Dragon Nest, there were two key details I carefully avoided: Snotlout's role in the plot, and the dragon rider's identity. If Dad insisted on visiting the rider for himself . . . well, it would be better if he knew ahead of time, right? I had no idea how he was going to react, but at least we might be able to avoid a berserk fury in the Nest.

. . .And it was only right he knew the truth.

"Thank you, Fishlegs," Dad said. "Could you find Gobber and Spitelout, and send them over here. If we are going on a journey, then I will need to discuss it with them."

"But what about the Berserkers?" Fishlegs asked.

Dad breathed deeply. "That's why I need to speak with them."

"Got it, sir!"

Fishlegs lurched out of our house, leaving me and Dad – and the dragons. Toothless leaned back on his haunches, stood, and then sniffed the journal suspiciously. It was too boring for his tastes, and he quickly decided his time was better spent chewing on the tabletop.

Dad slapped his snout. "Just because you rescued my son doesn't mean you get to eat that."

Toothless grumbled. He gave me a look that just screamed, Can you believe this guy?

Dad said, "Hiccup, you finish up writing that story. I'd like Gobber and Spitelout to have a clear picture of our situation."

"Got it. I'm on it."

I couldn't help but skim through what I had already written. It wasn't what was there on the page that hit me, but what wasn't. My omissions lurked in the back of my mind, like hungry wolves shadowing a herd of sheep. I fixed my eyes on the page's blank space.

Do I tell the truth?

Review Responses:

dmc fanboy: Well, I'm happy you're enjoying the story so far! On why Astrid permitted Hiccup to go back to Berk, there are a couple of reasons. Regarding personal reasons, Astrid doesn't trust Valka. She's inclined to distrust and dislike someone who's pretended to be dead for the last twenty years. Also, Astrid does have her pride. After spending quite a few miserable days searching for him, she doesn't want to go home empty-handed (I didn't say they were good reasons).

For a more logical reason, if it's true that the Berserkers are going to attack to avenge Dagur, then they might want Hiccup back so they can prove what really happened. It's one thing to be told that Hiccup was actually the small Night Fury they saw, it's another to see him doing something like writing and have absolute proof it's true.

And even if Astrid had wanted him to stay with Valka, there's no way Toothless would allow that! :D

Aqua is my fav, although I loved the idea of Vanitas. I also really liked Roxas and post-KH I Riku.

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Noctus Fury: Thank you! Once he's human again, Hiccup will probably find some use for that sniping ability of his XD

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Jazz: Yes, that was Drago's ship they saw, and Toothless was reacting to the alpha's pull. They were on the fringe of the alpha's influence though, so it was weak enough that Toothless was able to pull out of the area in time.

Ah, I must have miswrote that part. Only Toothless's head was inside.

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Matt: Probably.

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Snowflake: Drago :)