Heather Together Chapter 9

Heather was waiting for him to go riding with Toothless next morning, the way she usually did. Neither of them said anything about last night. He didn't feel talkative at all as they flew. Even Toothless seemed to sense the difference in his rider; several times, he looked back at Hiccup and made noises that sounded like some kind of question.

"You have to do a lot of back-and-forth work on his foot pedals, don't you?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you ever go on flights where you set the pedals and leave them that way for a while?" she wondered.

"Sometimes."

"I was thinking," she said. "If you put a thumbscrew right into that bracket, you could set the pedal, tighten the screw, and his tail would stay where it was until you loosened the screw. It could keep your legs from getting so tired on long flights."

He shrugged. "That's not a bad idea."

After they landed and fed Toothless his breakfast, they went their separate ways. He went somewhere he didn't go very often – the town's butcher shop. He waited outside until there were no customers, which meant Gunnarr Hofferson had the shop to himself. He braced himself and walked in, hoping his nervousness wasn't too obvious.

"Sir, can I talk to you about something?"

The Hoffersons liked Hiccup. Gunnarr was somewhat torn by recent events, but he loved his daughter too much to make her miserable. "Hiccup, your father spoke to me yesterday. I gave him my answer, and that answer isn't going to change. There's nothing for us to talk about."

"That's not why I'm here, sir." Hiccup felt embarrassed. "This is something different. It's the kind of thing I'd ask my mother about, if she were alive. I'd ask my dad, but he's not really good at talking about this kind of stuff. You and your wife are kind of a second set of parents to me, and... I was wondering..." He took a deep breath. "How do you know if you love someone? I mean, really love them?"

Gunnarr didn't see that one coming.

"The bards and minstrels have been going back and forth on that question since the beginning of time, Hiccup. Do you really think a simple butcher can give you a good answer?"

Hiccup shrugged. "All I know is, some people get married, and they have nothing in common except their house and their kids. You and your wife have been married for years, and you still hold hands when you're walking together. Maybe you can't give me a perfect answer, but you must know something about it."

Gunnarr looked thoughtful. "You've worked in the forge for years. When you first light a fire, what is it like?"

Hiccup had no problem answering that one. "It flames up, it snaps and pops, and it throws sparks all over the place. But it's not hot enough to work with. You have to wait until it burns down to the coals, and then you can do something useful with it."

Gunnarr nodded. "When you first fall in love, it's like that fire that's just been lit. It's very exciting, it looks and sounds impressive, but it can't do much for you, except inspire bad love poems. Real love is like a fire of coals; it doesn't look like much or sound like much, but it throws off a lot more heat.

"Our marriage was arranged for us, just like everyone else's. Edda came from another island; I never even met her until our wedding day. My father had to point her out and say, 'That's your wife, son.' Things were very awkward and uncomfortable at the start, and it seemed like they would stay that way for the rest of our lives.

"About six years into our marriage, after she'd given us our first son, she fell ill with a fever. She felt like she was burning up; she was dry and hot to the touch. Gothi wouldn't offer me any hope. I even offered sacrifices to the gods, but they wouldn't listen. I just sat next to her, holding her hand and watching her fade away, and there was not one thing I could do about it. I'd never felt so helpless in all my life.

"Finally, she turned the corner and began to get better. I'll admit, that was as close as this rough, tough Viking ever got to crying. I realized that, somehow, her life had gotten tangled up with mine, and my life just wouldn't be worth living if she wasn't in it.

"To me, that's love. It's not the crazy feelings and romantic poems and shooting stars lighting up the night. Those are nice, but they never last very long. To me, love is being completely tied up in someone else's life. You'd do anything for their benefit, no matter what it costs you. You'd never even consider anyone else, no matter what they might offer you. Sometimes you have moments with those crazy feelings, but the feelings are just the spices on top of the meat. Spices taste good, but they don't fill you up, and they weren't meant to be eaten all by themselves. Meat tastes pretty good, even without the spices, and it's a lot more filling.

"Does that help?"

"Yes, sir, it helps a lot. Thank you." Hiccup left the shop in a very thoughtful mood.

If what he says is true, then I'm not sure I really love Astrid. I know she doesn't love me.

Then he thought of Heather's words last night. "I'll always be there for you, Hiccup."

That was no lie. When he'd needed a trustworthy wingman for his fight with the Red Death, she'd come through for him. When he'd been unconscious for weeks on end, she'd stayed there beside him. When he'd needed companionship and comfort last night, she'd sought him out and given him what he needed most. "Your heart is safe with me," she'd said.

When Alvin had made her choose between him and her parents, she couldn't decide.

If what Mr. Hofferson says is true, then that probably means... Heather loves me, he realized. That shook him to the core. Somehow, he'd won her heart, without even trying to, and with no idea how he'd done it.

What was he going to do about that?

Heather was very pretty, but the town was full of pretty girls. She was smart and clever – he'd have to try her suggestion about the thumbscrew in the bracket. She had inner strength, though probably not as much as Astrid. She was kind, gentle, and sensitive, traits that Astrid certainly lacked.

She loved him.

Shouldn't that be worth a lot more than pretty faces and family prestige? All those other girls were pursuing him for what they could get; Heather was more concerned with what she could give.

He recalled Astrid's words – "Neither of us is going to get what we really want!"

Maybe not, he decided firmly, but I know somebody who's going to get what she really wants.

He spent the day in the forge, ignoring the parade of girls who dropped by to look him over. He used his few spare minutes to try out Heather's thumbscrew idea; it worked perfectly. He also made a start on another project.

That night, he caught his father doing some wood carving. "Got a few minutes to talk, Dad?"

Stoick put down his tools. "Sure, son. What's on your mind?"

"Has Berk ever had an alliance with Fedje Island?"

"Fedje?" The chief looked thoughtful. "No, I don't think so. We exchanged raids with them once or twice in my grandfather's time, but we haven't had much contact with them since then. Why do you ask?"

"The Ketilssons told me they're from Fedje, Dad."

Stoick let a ghost of a grin play around the corners of his mouth. "Oh, did they, then?" He nodded and stroked his beard. "Well, you could do worse. She's strong and healthy, she's brave, her family has a good name... hmmm. Yes, you could do much worse. I think her parents might agree to an alliance with Berk's future chief.

"The only problem is that they may not be able to raise a dowry that's fit for a future chief."

"Does it always come down to money?" Hiccup sputtered. "I know I'm not supposed to marry for love, but I hate feeling like I'm being bought and sold! You agree she's a nice girl; so what if she isn't rich? How much does that really matter?"

"Son, the conditions for a marriage contract are ancient traditions that even a chief can't set aside. There's always room for some negotiating, but if chiefs start giving their sons away in exchange for five turnips and a lame goat, pretty soon, being a chief won't mean anything. We have those traditions for a reason, even if we don't know what it is, and we can't pick and choose which ones we're going to obey.

"That's another thing, son. Two days ago, you thought you were too young for marriage; now you're trying to rush me into making a decision. Are you that much older today, Hiccup?"

"Dad, I've seen how things work," Hiccup said with a trace of urgency. "If you keep putting off an important decision, eventually something forces you to decide, and when that happens, you never get what you want. I wish you could have been with me in the forge, and seen all those girls lining up to stare at me... Now I know how a fish feels when it's surrounded by hungry dragons!

"If I can't delay getting married, then I want you to make the decision while I can still say something about it. Otherwise, I'll probably wind up with a wife with a nice dowry and not much else."

Stoick smiled. "You're right about putting off important decisions, and I'm glad you've learned that lesson already. Too many chiefs take too long to make up their minds about things, and their villages suffer for it. It's good to know you won't be one of those.

"As for the Ketilsson girl... are you sweet on that one, too?"

"Not really, Dad, but I think she's sweet on me. If I can't get Astrid, and we just have to pick somebody... why should Heather's heart get broken too?"

Stoick looked surprised. "That's quite noble of you, son. I think you know more about duty and responsibility than I realized. Well, let me think it over. It's too late to say anything to them tonight anyway. Get some sleep; we'll see what happens in the morning."

Hiccup actually did sleep well that night. The next day, he waited for Heather to appear so they could ride Toothless together. Oddly, she didn't show. The dragon was getting restless, so Hiccup flew without her. He attended to Toothless' breakfast, then his own; then he headed for the forge. He got there early enough to finish that other project of his: a "back seat" extension to Toothless' saddle, with a matching riding belt, so he could take a passenger for a ride in complete safety.

Halfway through the morning, the cloud of admiring girls scattered. In their place, Stoick approached the window of the forge and beckoned for Hiccup to join him. He looked as though he was trying to hide his gloomy expression behind his beard.

"Son... she's gone."

o

A/N
Hiccup's pivotal line that starts with "Maybe not" was inspired by a very moving scene in the M*A*S*H episode "Sometimes You Hear the Bullet."