Broken

Chapter 4: Portrait

The frigid seas around Berk were being generous. The few ships that were out dropping nets and lines hadn't even gotten out of sight of the village before they found large schools of cod and haddock. The dozen or so dragons wheeling through the brilliant spring sky were having an easy time of it as well. It seemed every time a brightly colored body dove into the gentle swells, it came up with a wriggling silver reward.

Jaspin watched with great pride and interest as his Nadder, Bitequick, circled lazily, seemingly content to do nothing more than ride the soft morning breeze. Now and again she would suddenly fold her wings and plunge head first into the water. She would be out of sight for only a moment before she would resurface, thrusting herself up out of the water with as much speed and violence as she had entered. Two or three hard sweeps of her wings would get her clear of the water. Her head would drop down to strain out the water in her mouth, then tip back to swallow her prize. Sometimes she would have to bite the fish into smaller pieces in order to swallow it.

The whole process still fascinated Jaspin.

Bitequick made certain to keep an eye on him as she fed. Every third fish or so she would coast back over the cliffs where Jaspin sat and trill to him. Once she even flew directly over his head and let the very tip of her armored tail brush through his hair. It amazed him that she could fly with such tremendous precision, using the dangerously spiked member to playfully tease her rider. It was even more amazing that the word 'playful' could be used to describe anything about dragons.

As the sun warmed the ground and the cool ocean breeze tugged at his dark hair, Jaspin felt his eyes get heavy. He scooted over to where he had left Bitequick's saddle on the ground and leaned against it, trying to get comfortable. His left hand idly toyed with one of the stirrups, running his hand over the rough leather. Numerous saddles for dragons had been made all at once, and most had not been finished with any great detail. They were sturdy and comfortable but plain. Not that Jaspin minded.

His fingers found a strange gap in the leather. He looked down at the stirrup he'd been handling and saw a deep cut in the strap. Looking closer, he realized the stirrup would break if put under any serious strain. He thought it odd that it should be so seriously damaged when it was so new. He couldn't remember doing anything that might have inflicted such a cut.

Upon reflection, he realized that it might have been the Nadder's own teeth that had sliced the saddle like that. Deadly Nadders were known to spend a lot more time grooming than other species of dragon, and her own sharp teeth may have unknowingly cut the stirrup as she was preening.

Having decided not to worry about how the damage had happened, Jaspin knew that a visit to Hiccup for repair would be in order. That suited him fine. He liked talking to the blacksmith's apprentice. He felt certain Hiccup was the only other resident of Berk who liked dragons as much as Jaspin himself did.

Looking up at the graceful forms dancing among the clouds, he couldn't help but compare how he used to think of dragons. Like many in the village, he often wondered at how much life had changed in such a short time. And to him, it seemed as though every day that passed made the old way of life in Berk seem more like a bad dream than real history.

He took a small amount of pride in being old enough to remember that dragons had once been the bane of Viking life. It didn't bother him that the change had happened only half a year ago and that all but the newborn babe in the Sturlubók house knew and remembered. As long as he himself carried the memory, he would eventually be able to tell future generations of Vikings of how life had once been so different. And Jaspin was absolutely certain he would remember.

He remembered wanting, as all children born in Berk did, to become the fiercest, most celebrated dragon killer in the village. He'd spent the winters listening to stories told by the adults of glorious battles against the fire-breathing monsters that regularly attacked them. During the few warmer months he would peer through the cracks around the door of his house to watch those battles take place. He'd thought it was both exciting and terrifying to see the life and death struggles happening within an axe throw of where he crouched.

When he'd passed his fourteenth winter, he'd been given training to be outside during attacks, but only as an observer. He'd been handed a short sword, drilled on its proper use and care and then assigned a spot on one of the fire towers that ringed the village. His job had been to make certain that no dragons were able to go unobserved during a raid. He'd been told that if he saw anything that needed to be dealt with, he was to ring the bell in the tower and point to the source of trouble.

What Jaspin had never anticipated was his reaction to seeing dragons up close.

At first, it was confusing and dizzying and more than a little frightening. He was out there, in the tower where any dragon might pluck him up and carry him off. Or worse, burn him to a crisp with a fireball. His first raid was mostly spent huddled down below the low wooden wall of the tower's landing. Winged bodies had seemed to fill the air, along with the roars and growls of the beasts. Before long, however, he'd gathered the courage to stick his head out beyond the wall and watch for dragon mischief. What he saw surprised him.

For all their ferocity, dragons were the most beautiful things Jaspin had ever seen.

He'd known they were still terrifying monsters that needed to be destroyed. Yet as he'd watched the attacks play out beneath him, he'd found himself staring at the creatures with an unexpected sense of appreciation. They'd moved with a grace no person could match. The sinuous twisting and turning of their bodies let them flit around the roofs of the houses the way a tiny seabird would dance among the waves. Even the bulky Gronckles, with their small, buzzing wings moved in a stately fashion that was strangely appealing. They roared and snorted and growled and made all manner of other sounds Jaspin couldn't quite describe. And the colors, even muted as they were in the faint light of fires started by both Vikings and dragons, were hard to believe. It almost looked like a field of spiky, flaming flowers had taken wing and were trying to destroy the plants from which they'd blossomed.

He quickly realized that the ugliness of dragons lay in what they did, not in their forms or colors. From that point on, Jaspin had felt vaguely uneasy about his future concerning dragons. It felt wrong to appreciate Berk's eternal enemies in any way. Dragons raided them, they fought back, deaths occurred on both sides and an unending and uncompromising hatred resulted. There was more than enough reason to despise their scaled foes. The very idea of liking anything about them tasted of treason.

The more he thought about it, however, the more Jaspin had to admit to himself that he liked dragons, even if he thought himself wrong for doing so. He kept his feelings a secret. He was willing and more than able to tell anyone who might have asked that he wanted every dragon to die, preferably at his own hands. But deep inside he saw them as fire-breathing beauties.

He grew more concerned about his feelings when he started to dislike seeing dragons killed by the Vikings of Berk. It was hard to appreciate the colors and forms of such graceful flying reptiles when their bodies were hacked to pieces and their blood stained the grass. He didn't want to let the dragons continue raiding his village without trying to stop them, but he hated the fact that they had to be brutally killed to be stopped. He started to wonder if he would be capable of becoming a dragon killer as he'd always wanted. The idea of destroying something he found so fascinating, so appealing had him wishing for things he knew would never happen.

When he started to hear of Hiccup's abilities in the training arena, he became curious. Not because the scrawny failure of a Viking was suddenly doing so amazingly well in his training, but that he seemed to be able to control the beasts without harming them. Jaspin started watching the chief's son during his sessions with Gobber and the other teens in the group. The things he saw Hiccup do gave him new hope. The young man was defeating dragons over and over, sometimes without any weapon in his hands.

As the training progressed, Jaspin became one of Hiccup's fans. He followed him when he could, listening to him talk about dealing with Berk's oldest and most destructive enemies. He watched every training session the boy went through, even the ones that didn't involve fighting dragons directly. He made sure to always be there, watching, learning and hoping to someday perform the same feats.

Jaspin had also been at Hiccup's final trial. He'd seen the chief's son approach the Monstrous Nightmare, unarmed, his hands outstretched. He'd heard him say the words, "They're not what we think they are. We don't have to kill them."

That breathtaking event had filled him with a sudden and overpowering need to have those statements proven true. Without realizing what he was doing, he'd thrust his arms between the bars of the arena cage, wanting nothing more than to join Hiccup next to the dragon and touch the very thing that had captivated him.

Luckily for him, he couldn't fit through the bars. Even more fortunate for him was the result of the battle of Red Death Island. Only days after Hiccup defeated the largest and most menacing dragon ever encountered, more dragons descended on Berk. To Jaspin's amazement and joy, the Vikings allowed it. The conflict between the two sides, apparently caused by the Red Death, was over. Jaspin spent a whole day wandering the village, looking at the dragons up close.

Something else happened, something he'd never imagined was even possible or desirable: Vikings took to riding dragons, mounting them as they would the Icelandic Ponies their ancestors had once owned. The very idea thrilled him to his core. He spent countless hours watching the Gronckles and Nadders and other species, looking for just the right creature.

He finally found her, perched on the roof of his own home as though she'd been waiting for him to notice her. It was hard not to notice the vibrant blue and brilliant yellow of her scales, the dense, splotchy mix of red, blue, yellow and green on her wings. It was even harder not to notice the intent regard of her yellow eye as she cocked her head to one side so as to get a good look at him.

By then he'd heard others talking and knew how to approach a dragon. He ran back to the mead hall, the only place he knew would have fish ready for him to grab. As he rushed up the stairs he met two others coming out, Mursi Laxdale and his son Sigvat. Both had large fish in their hands and grins on their faces. He stepped inside, only to see Freya Hofferson point to a big, smelly basket by the door. "Go ahead, it's obvious there'll be no fish for the pot tonight. I hope everyone likes leftover stew, it's all that'll be left by evening!"

For all her complaining, Freya didn't seem to actually be mad about all the fish being taken and fed to dragons. She was probably as relieved to be done with the war as everyone else.

Jaspin had snagged a nice, fat fish and pelted back to his house, hoping the Nadder was still waiting for him.

He stopped again when he came within sight of his home. She was still there, sitting on top of the house as if she owned it. She muttered and chuckled as he came closer, watching him closely. Her twitchy, birdlike movements enthralled him. She was amazing!

Holding the fish up by the gills so she could see it, he whistled softy. "Here you go," he said quietly, wanting to sound as non-threatening as possible. Unlike the teens who had recently been training to kill the likes of her, Jaspin didn't feel the deep-seated distrust of dragons. When she jumped down from her perch and landed with a considerable thud, Jaspin merely took a single step back to allow her room. He held the fish out again at arm's length. "Hungry?"

Turning her head one way, then the other to gaze from the fish to Jaspin, the Nadder seemed to take the measure of both the food and its provider. When she found both to her satisfaction, she took a step forward and brought her large horned head down to his level. She snuffled the fish without opening her mouth, then did the same to Jaspin. The feel of her curiously soft snout as it brushed across his forehead gave him an immense thrill. He held the fish out for her, but his eyes were busy taking in the amazing details of her scales, her horns, her quick, darting eyes.

Without even realizing it had happened, the fish disappeared from Jaspin's hands. He gasped in momentary fright, looking at his palms. Despite the speed and vigor with which the dragon had snatched the food from his hands, she'd left no mark on him at all. He gazed in renewed amazement as she threw her head back and worked to swallow the tasty morsel.

At that moment, Jaspin knew exactly what he'd call his new friend.

A heavy thud jarred the ground, bringing him out of his reverie. Framed by the midday sun and laced with sparkling drops of ocean water, Bitequick positively glowed. Each drop of water was reflecting the varied colors of her scales and magnifying the effect until she looked like her skin was made of gemstones.

Gazing up at his dragon, he smiled. He'd never seen his winged friend looking like she did now. No matter how accustomed he seemed to become to her presence, there were still times when he would see her in a new way. He stood and put his hand gently on her rounded jaw, feeling the cold dampness of her scaled skin. He scratched at the back of her heavy jaw muscles, where they attached to her neck. Her eyes twitched in reptilian pleasure as he caressed the spot Hiccup had shown him. He was careful not to move his hands down too far toward her 'drop spot,' that place on dragon jowls that sent them crashing to the ground in unfettered ecstasy.

When she was satisfied with the attention she'd been paid by her rider, Bitequick shook her great head and sidled up to Jaspin, her way of inviting him onto her back for flight. "Sorry Quick. I've got to get this fixed first." He held up the saddle so the stirrup was visible. He had no idea if she understood or cared what he was saying, but he had his suspicions that she knew more than a lot of people believed. "I'm going to the smithy to see Hiccup about getting it fixed. I'll see you back at the house."

With a quiet burble that ended with a soft, rising trill, the Nadder rubbed her snout against his neck and ear before giving his hair a single, drippy lick. Instead of flying directly off toward their house, she wandered in the direction of a few other dragons napping in the warm noon sunshine.

The ringing clash of hammer and steel told Jaspin that there was work being done in Gobber's smithy, but the heavy, authoritative impacts told him it was the master smith himself working. With his saddle tucked under one arm, he entered the workshop. As he expected, Gobber was working the anvil. He had a long, heavy rod laying with one end in the fire, its end obviously being drawn down into a narrower diameter. The piece he was pounding on was similar; a long piece of thick, round metal he was hammering and turning repeatedly to reduce its thickness and add length.

When the metal no longer glowed as brightly, Gobber placed it back into the forge's roaring fire. He moved a step to one side and began working the bellows, causing fire and smoke to jump up like a small angry demon. He closely watched the color of the heating metal and when he was satisfied he grabbed the second rod. With a noticeable sheen of sweat on his forehead and arms, the smith began beating the metal into the shape he wanted.

Jaspin stepped further into the workshop until the smith noticed him. The man gave a small start, and then smiled. "Hoy, Jaspin. I didn't see you there." He gave a quiet chuckle and pointed to the saddle he held. "You looking for Hiccup?"

The boy nodded, awed as always by Gobber's physical presence. To him, the man represented both the way Berk had been and the way it was now. Gobber's damaged limbs were a testament to how dangerous dragons truly were. They also spoke of a Viking's willingness to overcome any hardship, to thrive even in the face of enormous change.

The smith stopped hammering for a moment, gazing curiously at the saddle in his arms. He held it up, holding the stirrup's damaged strap out. "Leather versus Nadder teeth. Teeth win."

Gobber chuckled. "So it would seem." He waved the huge hammer socketed into his arm stump as though it weighed nothing. "He's not here. If he isn't at his house working on his forge, he's likely off flying with his black beastie."

Jaspin smiled and nodded his thanks. Before he left, he pointed at the large rods. "What are you making? Are they going to be swords? Does your dragon help you make swords?" He took a step toward the forge, wanting a closer look at the work being done.

Gobber got a funny look on his face and said, "Ye know, I think Hiccup said something about having a special project of his to work on this morning. Do you have any idea what it might be?"

"Special project?" Jaspin blinked. "Really?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

Gobber placed the rod he'd been holding back into the forge to reheat. Its end had cooled while he'd been talking. He began working the bellows again. Over the roar of the furnace he shouted, "If you find out, let me know. I'm kind of curious." He turned his attention back to his work, a fiercely determined look on his slightly sooty face.

Jaspin hurried out of the smithy, bumping his saddle against a post in his distracted frame of mind. As he walked toward the north side of the village, he missed the exaggerated sigh that gusted past Gobber's lengthy mustache.

Hiccup wasn't working at his forge when Jaspin arrived. It was obvious, however, that he had been there earlier that morning. Several of his tools lay on the bench along with his leather apron. He knocked on the door several times without getting an answer. Frowning slightly at having missed his opportunity to talk to him, he wandered back into the small smithy set up next to the house. He looked around, hoping to find clues as to what the 'special project' Gobber had mentioned might be.

The only thing of interest to be found was a sketchbook. Jaspin knew Hiccup had two or three of them and that he always carried one with him. This one seemed fairly old, as the leather cover was cracked and scuffed. It even had several small burn marks, evidence that it spent at least some time with Hiccup near his forge. Wondering if perhaps the clues he sought were within its pages, he picked it up and opened it.

The first pages were filled with odd geometric patterns, measurements and notes about colors of heated metal. None of them made sense to him so he moved on. Soon he saw designs of strangely shaped weapons with unusual names. Jaspin's reading skills weren't the best, but he could make out some of them as 'flying death mace', 'skull crusher', and 'fireproof armor'. The word 'fireproof' on the last one had been crossed out and underneath the word 'flammable' had been scrawled.

As he turned the pages, he saw some of the devices Hiccup had tried out after Jaspin had been allowed outside during dragon raids. He recognized the 'multiple arrow launcher'. That one had nearly broken Hiccup's arm when he fired it. He also saw a drawing of the 'clamshell of doom'. The fish placed in the center of it had certainly attracted the dragons, but it hadn't snapped shut until Hiccup was jumping on it later, trying to figure out why it failed.

The last weapon in the journal was the 'bola cannon' which, Hiccup had later confessed, was the only design of his that had actually worked as planned. There were several pages on which its details were carefully noted. He noticed the last page dedicated to it had the word 'success' written in bold letters and underlined.

On the following pages the subject matter changed, drastically. First there were hesitant outlines of the Night Fury. They looked as if they'd been done with the subject some distance off. Further sketches had more detail, better proportions. Jaspin studied these a moment, wondering how Hiccup had felt as he drew these pictures. A flip of the page returned to devices, namely the artificial tail fin he'd concocted to allow Toothless to fly. Another page had several outlines of the saddle he'd made for riding the Fury. These came complete with measurements that Jaspin realized required fairly intimate contact to make. He smiled at the idea of Hiccup trying to measure the beasts' girth for the first time. What must Toothless have thought of that?

More pages had more designs. The elaborate control system that hooked saddle, stirrups, ropes and the leather tail fin into a single device filled several pages. Even without understanding everything he was seeing, Jaspin was impressed with how tenacious Hiccup had been in seeking a way to return the Fury to the skies.

The next page made Jaspin's breath catch in his throat. Before, each page had been crammed with drawings only as large as they needed to be. Small sketches and tiny script had allowed each page to last longer, carry more information. The pages now open had only one drawing on each.

On the left page was a beautiful and carefully done picture of Toothless' head and shoulders. The creature's expression was calm, even thoughtful if one could say such a thing about a dragon. Toothless' eyes were wide, his irises large. His flat, wide head was tilted to one side and the expressive fins that framed his head like ears were up. Below were the words, 'puzzled but patient.' He wondered how often the Fury used that expression around his rider.

The other was a detailed rendering of the dragon sleeping beneath some trees. The saddle and control rigging for the leather and iron tail fin were as studiously drawn in as the trees, rocks and grass in the background. It all showed a love of the subject Jaspin could entirely understand. He gently rubbed his fingertips over the form of the napping dragon, delighting in the details. What thrilled him even more was the evidence that someone besides him felt so strongly about their reptilian companion.

From behind him he heard a familiar gurgling croon. He turned, book in hand to face Toothless himself with Hiccup standing beside him. He hadn't heard the heavy tread of the dragon's footsteps or the quiet squeaking of the young man's metal and wood leg.

"Hey Jaspin," Hiccup said in greeting. He looked at the journal in the boy's hands but said nothing.

"Hi." A sudden, puzzling reluctance came over Jaspin. "Hiccup," he finished his greeting. He glanced over at the black dragon and almost stuttered the name. "Toothless." The Night Fury gave a soft huff of breath that sounded like an acknowledgement to Jaspin's ears.

A faint smile lifted Hiccup's lips. "Is there something I can do for you?"

It took a moment for that circle around in his brain and connect to something. "Oh, yeah!" He grinned at his forgetfulness and held up the saddle. "Bitequick nibbled a stirrup and I need it fixed before we can fly again."

His smile widening, Hiccup stepped forward and took the saddle from him. He examined the slice in the leather. "Hmm, yeah, I can fix this." He held it up to his nose and sniffed deeply. "Fish. Yup, she bit it." His brows drew down slightly. "I wonder if it's sitting against a sensitive spot?"

"I didn't see her do it, so I don't know. She doesn't avoid having it put on, so..." Jaspin shrugged.

"Well, I can take care of this for you easily. Come back tomorrow morning and it will be ready for you."

Happy to know his problem would be solved, Jaspin said, "Thanks!" He turned to head home, wondering if Bitequick would be there. Before he took two steps he halted, suddenly remembering the journal. He turned back to the blacksmith's apprentice.

"Hiccup, do you-" He looked around nervously, making sure they were alone. "Do you...love Toothless?" He held out the journal, the two portraits obvious.

The look of embarrassment on Hiccup's face as he took the book made him wish he hadn't asked. The words were out, though, so he pushed ahead. "Because I've been thinking about it and I can't think of any other way to describe how I feel about Quick." The words came out in a rush. "She's really important to me and she's really beautiful and she acts like she really cares about me and she never hurts me or scares me or anything!"

Jaspin ran out of words as well as breath to speak them. He could only wait silently as Hiccup seemed to wrestle with his answer.

Toothless stepped up next to his companion and nudged him very gently with his head. Hiccup gazed at his winged friend, his expression softening. He laid a hand on the Fury's head as the large yellowish green eyes regarded him. He gave a soft sigh and nodded.

"Yes, I would call what I feel for Toothless 'love'."

"But not like a pet, right? A cat or a sheep?" The clarification suddenly became very important to him.

"No," was the instant response. Hiccup turned to Jaspin, a slight frown on his face. "No. Like..." He faltered, unsure of his answer. Or perhaps unwilling to voice it. He looked down at the journal in his hand. "Like a... companion." He looked back up at the Night Fury. The dragon regarded his rider with an expression that almost perfectly matched the one on the page. "Like... a best friend. One who had saved my life."

(c)Wirewolf 2011

"How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright

Dreamworks Animation and used without permission

Author's Note: This is the last chapter that will focus on backstory from the movie. It's time to move this thing forward.