Heather Together Chapter 11
For Hiccup to disappear on his dragon for the better part of a day was not unusual. For him to take his father away on dragonback... well, that had never been done before. Stoick offered no explanations; he just left Spitelout in charge for the day, flew away with his son early in the morning, and came back just before sunset, when the weekly town meeting was getting started.
He led things as he always did, calling people to speak as needed, summing up reports that were too long, generally doing the things chiefs do at town meetings. It didn't take very long tonight, which suited everyone – no one likes meetings except managers, and the Vikings never invented managers, so they really hated meetings. But he had one announcement just before he dismissed everyone.
"There's one more thing! I am pleased to announce the successful conclusion of a very special contract," he beamed. The fishermen assumed he was talking about a wool contract, and the sheep owners thought he was talking about some kind of deal for fish. Their wives thought they knew what he meant, but had no idea who might be involved.
"As a result of this contract, I can announce that Miss Heather Ketilsson, who recently visited us from Fedje Island, is now... officially... engaged to be married to my son, Hiccup!" A scattering of surprised applause finally grew into a full ovation with cheers, as much out of respect for the chief as out of happiness for his son. It was certainly an upbeat ending to the meeting. Hiccup wanted to hide under the table.
People's reactions to Hiccup's engagement were wildly varied. The politically-inclined Vikings saw the wisdom in establishing a new alliance with a formerly hostile island... unless they had daughters of marriageable age, in which case Heather should drop dead. The tradesmen liked the idea of possible new trading partnerships with Fedje, regardless of how the marriage worked out. The majority of the women liked her and approved of her; she'd made a good impression in the short amount of time she'd lived on Berk.
Ruffnut's immediate reaction cannot be reprinted in a story with K-rated language.
Snotlout was rather pleased by this turn of events. "I have to hand it to you, cousin," he told Hiccup one day. "Not only did you pick a pretty good one for yourself, you also got yourself out of the way so I can hunt down Astrid with no competition. Not that you could ever compete with me, of course. Still, it was a nice two-for-one move."
"Think nothing of it," Hiccup smiled.
"Okay, I won't," Snotlout grinned.
Fishlegs was a bit mystified by it all. "I thought Astrid was the only one for you, Hiccup. Why did you change your mind?"
"I guess Astrid wasn't who I thought she was," Hiccup answered slowly. It was a sore subject. He hadn't seen much of Astrid since his engagement was announced, and he couldn't swear an oath that he had no more feelings for her. He didn't want to be drawn to Astrid any more; he'd made his decision, and he wanted that to be the end of it. But he knew how stubborn the human heart can be. He wasn't sure if his fiancée's victory over his lifelong crush was complete, and he didn't want to find out, just in case he was still drawn in two directions at once. That wouldn't be fair to Heather.
Tuffnut, true to form, went straight to the heart of the issue as he saw it. "Isn't it weird to think you and her are going to do that whole 'marriage' thing in front of the whole village on your wedding night?"
Hiccup didn't dignify that with a response. He was honestly dreading that part of the marriage ceremony. As a chief's son, the consummation of his marriage had to be viewed by reliable witnesses; it was tradition and it was the law. He doubted that Heather was looking forward to it, either.
But, like any other issue involving engagement or marriage, he couldn't talk to her about it. To prevent scandal, engaged couples in Viking culture were forbidden to spend time alone together. In Hiccup and Heather's case, this wasn't hard to arrange, because Heather was going to spend the rest of her unmarried life with her family on Fedje. She would relocate to Berk only when it was time for the wedding, which was months away.
To most men, the seven-day trip by sea from Berk to Fedje (and the seven-day return trip) would be far too great an obstacle to overcome. No one could take that kind of time off from his work and his daily chores. But Hiccup was not like most men; he rode a dragon who could take him from his home to his fiancée's home and back in a few hours. The only thing that held him back was a firm order from his father not to meet with Heather or talk with her in any way before he married her.
He obeyed that order... technically. But love will find a way. Hiccup's way was to invent air mail. His father's order did not keep him and Toothless from flying to Fedje, dropping a weighted note in Heather's back yard, and flying home again. Nor did it keep them from flying to Fedje a week later, swooping down to pick up a note that she'd hung on a string between two trees, and flying home again. They avoided passionate outpourings of their feelings, in case someone else found their notes; instead, they speculated about their future, and told each other about their respective pasts. It wasn't the same as sitting and talking, but it was far better than being completely cut off from each other. Her idea about the thumbscrew in Toothless' harness was perfect for those long flights over water. If Stoick ever suspected what was going on, he never mentioned it to Hiccup.
It wasn't as if Hiccup had huge amounts of time on his hands to go flying, though. In addition to his work in the forge and his dragon-training responsibilities, he had to do the man's traditional work to prepare for marriage. Most importantly, he had to build a house for himself and his bride. In his case, that mostly meant watching his father's hired men build the house, while staying out of their way so he didn't break anything. His only real contribution was to point out that the doors needed to be wider than usual, so a certain black scaly friend of his could get in and out.
He had to come up with two excellent swords for the wedding ceremony, one for him and one for his bride (the Ketilssons had no access to swords, so he agreed to meet that need for them). Most men would have to visit a faraway relative, or even rob a family grave, to get swords of that quality, but here again, Hiccup was in a better position than most men – he could make them himself. He wouldn't let anyone see them as his work progressed, but no one doubted that they would be something special. He also undertook to make their wedding rings.
He had to endure hours of teaching from his father and other relations, poorly disguised as long-dead ancestors, about his family line, famous Vikings, and other arcane lore from the distant past. When he had the audacity to ask why he needed to know all this, he was told, "So you can pass it on to your own son someday." When he asked why his son would need to know it, he was told to sit down and recite it all. He'd kind of suspected this would be the case, and went along with it because it was easier than fighting it.
When he complained about all this in his next note to Heather, she wrote back with a list of the things she was enduring in the name of engagement. She was undergoing crash courses in the domestic arts that she never much cared for in the past. In a few months, there would be no one but her to cook the food, clean the house, treat minor sicknesses and injuries, and mend and wash the clothes. She'd had no idea how much work her mother did around the house until she had to learn how to do it all herself. As a future chief's wife, she would be involved in the record-keeping of the village, so she also had to endure lessons in penmanship to make sure her writing was perfect and legible.
In addition, she thought it would be a good idea to learn some kind of womanly art, so an older cousin was teaching her about quilting. Berk, like Fedje, was almost always cold; everyone needed warm bedclothes, so a well-made quilt would be a much-appreciated gift for any occasion. Also, as the wife of the chief, her house would be a sort of social center for the women of the village, and making quilts was something they all could do together for a few hours. It certainly made more sense to her than learning about hooking rugs or growing flowers.
Her married female relatives were beginning her instruction in how to keep her husband happy and her household peaceful. At this point, this meant only broad principles with no details, but they still made it very clear that it was her job to please her husband, not the other way around. She'd get an earful of the details on their wedding day. "What's the use of that?" she asked in her newly-perfect penmanship. "If I'm supposed to remember all these important things, couldn't they pick a better day to teach me than the busiest, most intense day of my life?"
She, too, had to memorize chunks of antiquated text. For her, it wasn't genealogies, but parts of the wedding and reception that she would have to parrot back, word-perfect, in front of all their guests. He had to agree, that was at least as bad as his rote lessons.
"The long and the short of it," he replied in his next note, "is that they want us to get married, but for some reason, they make it as difficult as they can. Sometimes I want to just swoop down on Toothless, grab you, and carry you off to parts unknown."
"Don't tempt me," she eventually replied.
He'd gone into this relationship more for her sake than for his. He knew he had to marry somebody, so if it couldn't be the one he wanted, it might as well be someone who really wanted him. He knew what heartbreak felt like; he didn't want to do that to someone else, especially to someone as kind as Heather. But somewhere along the way, he found himself looking forward to her next note a lot more than he thought he would, and he realized he was developing some feelings for her as well.
He didn't feel bad about that at all.