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Broken
Chapter 12: Joy in motion
It was seldom that Jaspin could claim to feel happy and unhappy at the same time. As he rode on the bow of his father's ship, Rorik, that was exactly how he felt.
To look at him, no one would have known there was any heaviness in his heart. At the moment it was sheer joy showing on his face. The motion of Rorik's bow as she plunged through the choppy waters a day's voyage from Berk gave him a thrill that simply couldn't compare to anything else in the world. At least not until his first flight on a dragon's back. The endless lift and fall of the bow gave him the sensation of taking huge leaps over the frothy green-blue sea. He imagined he was a giant, stepping from island to island in strides that would make Odin gasp. Sometimes he pictured himself as a seagull, skimming the white tips of the waves then dropping into the troughs to hide, cresting the watery hills to shriek at nearby sailors then disappearing before they could spot him.
Behind him Grumblemud was conferring with his father about where to drop their nets. Earlier that morning they had failed to catch anything and the current conditions didn't look to have improved much. He knew he should be paying more attention to their discussion, learning how to read the waters, to find where the fish were hiding. While he knew he would one day be a fisherman like his father, it was hard to concentrate on such tedious things as fish craft and weather signs. This was the last time he and his father would have Rorik to go fishing. As soon as they returned she would be beached and become Ingifast's project, refitting her for the upcoming trading voyage.
That thought brought the unhappiness back to Jaspin. As owner and captain of Rorik, Hogknee Vapnfjord would be going with Gobber and the others on the voyage. Having not yet reached his fifteenth birthday, Jaspin would not be able to go with them. Not only would he miss his father, he would probably not be allowed on other ships to go fishing. His love of sailing and of fishing would have to be put aside as he apprenticed with Kabbi, Berk's master tanner.
If it weren't for the freedom and companionship that Bitequick offered him, Jaspin might have rebelled against such a fate. He knew that making leather from sheep and deer hides was as important to the village as fishing was, but the boredom of staying in one particular place while he worked would have driven him mad. The lifeline his Nadder offered from that horror was worth more than any coin he might earn from leather working.
Rorik's bow bit hard into a large wave and jarred Jaspin from his ankles to his hips. He tightened his grip on the cleats his father had installed near the bow just for him to use. Nearly getting tossed over the ship's nose into the freezing waters wasn't enough to persuade Jaspin to stay near the mast as his father had so often told him. Even the occasional clout across the ear hadn't been enough. The compromise had been to install hand holds to give him a way to stay relatively safe.
As Rorik swiftly climbed the wave, her sails full to overflowing with the stiff northerly winds, Jaspin grinned wildly. This was his favorite part. For a moment, all there was before his eyes was the sloping wall of water that Rorik's wooden hide broke into streaming white froth. The groan of the hull and the creak of the mast didn't quite cover the distressed moans coming from Stonetoss, one of the very few villagers who never managed to get their sea legs.
The ship crested the wave and Jaspin couldn't contain a whoop of joy as he suddenly felt weightless. He held on as tight as he could to the cleats and let his boots lift a few inches off the deck. Salt spray dusted his face and hair while the roar of the bow cutting through the water filled his ears. There was a solid 'whump' as the ship settled and his weight was once more firmly planted on the deck. He laughed, wishing he could go higher, stay up longer.
He could, of course. Bitequick gave him that, and more.
A sour mutter came from behind him. He couldn't make out what had been said beyond the word 'crazy.'
"What was that?" asked his father in a commanding tone. "You have something to say, Lunchtoss?" That was the name Spitelout had given the man many years back when it was learned that Stonetoss would inevitably give his last meal up to feed the fish whenever he went out on the water. It had stuck with him, much to his dismay.
"Ain't right." Stonetoss said softly. "Boy like that shoulda been born a bird."
The idea sat well with Jaspin, but for a single detail. Before anyone else could reply, he piped up. "Or a dragon!"
Stonetoss glared at him. "You, born a dragon?" He snorted with disdain. "You'da had your head taken off ten times over before you reached ten winters!"
Hogknee was slim and quick and known to be deadly with a dagger. He proved it once more by leaping over the rowing benches to where Stonetoss sat draped half over the rail. His dagger, one of Gobber's best blades, was in his hand and buried a thumb's length into the rail near Stonetoss' left arm. "Threats, fish feeder?" He thrust his face into the older man's, his grimace marked by the four missing teeth in the center of his smile. That was Stonetoss' work, from when they'd been younger. The rock, powerfully thrown and skillfully aimed, had taken Hogknee's teeth and given Stonetoss his name. But it had also earned the larger Viking a lesson in picking your opponent wisely. Hogknee had left him bleeding in the dust from a vicious pummeling. From that point on, his gap-toothed smile was a constant reminder to Stonetoss of his mistake. "You threatening my son, milk belly?"
Now it was Stonetoss who showed anger. "You know I ain't! But we're supposed to be out here for fish, not for him to jump and holler like a madman!" An accusing finger was aimed at Jaspin, who had frozen at his father's sudden move. "Where's the fish? I don't see a single fin on the deck!"
That turned the argument rather well for Stonetoss. Hogknee knew it, too. Both men had scored, but it was now time for Rorik's captain to deal with the failure the older man had thrown in his face. He let his lips close over his smile and nodded at the point made. "You're right." He jerked his dagger loose and sheathed it. "Grumblemud! North by east, back toward Berk. Ludin, Buckets, reef the sail!" He waved a hand at the rest of the crew. "Oars out!"
It was a minor squabble, Jaspin knew. No one would mention it again. But the sullen glance Stonetoss gave him before he took up his oar bothered him. It was the same with the others who had stomach trouble out on the waves. Jaspin's exuberance irritated them at least as much as their seasickness did. Even some of the villagers who shared Jaspin's joy of sailing found him a bit overwhelming at times. But he couldn't help it. He loved the feeling the sea gave him. And he was not always that good at keeping his feelings hidden.
He was big enough to pull an oar, so Jaspin took up his seat and began working with the rest to head toward other fishing grounds. If they were going North by East then they were headed toward the Snapspines, a ragged line of small islands close to Berk that often sheltered schools of fish during the stormy months. During calmer seasons, like now, some stray fish could still be found there. A good fisherman like his father would know how to find them, but only if the fish were there to be found. If they weren't, they might have to go home empty. The trip was only meant to last a few days so there were only provisions aboard for a week. There wasn't enough time for second guessing.
The rowing was hard work, but that wasn't what bothered Jaspin. It was the tedium and the repetitiveness of stroke after stroke of the oars. He longed to be soaring high above the water on Bitequick's back, letting her do whatever wild acrobatics she had a mind to perform while he held on tight. He let thoughts of flying with his dragon fill the hours and tried to ignore Stonetoss' presence.
By nightfall they'd made it to the closest of the Snapspines. They beached and clambered out, grateful for the rest. It didn't take long to start a cook fire and take the evening meal before they passed out, either on the pebbly beach or on Rorik's deck. Jaspin was asleep within moments of wedging himself into the point of the ship's bow
Hogknee was getting worried. It was well past noon the next day and while they'd managed to snag a few straggling cod, it wasn't enough to make the effort worthwhile. Empty nets breed empty bellies, as the saying went. While Berk wasn't starving just yet, they did need every fishing trip to bring in at least enough to fill the stewpots for a few days. He scanned the horizon in all directions, looking for any sign of where there might be something worth chasing.
Jaspin helped on the oars when they were needed, or watched quietly when they were under sail. He saw dragons flying high and far off and would watch them when he could. He tried to identify the breeds from a distance but had no way to tell if he was right.
"S'not your fault," Grumblemud told his father. The stout Viking waved his heavily muscled arm at the sea in general. "Cannot catch fish ain't there."
Hogknee just grunted. He pointed at the far end of the Snapspines. "We've got time, we'll try that side." Jaspin sighed as he realized that meant more rowing.
By the time Rorik was in place and the nets were dropped, Jaspin was ready to head back to camp or sail back to Berk. He had never rowed so much in his life. It was part of his deal, however. He'd asked his father if he could work an oar on this trip so as to claim a portion of the haul. Hogknee had given him an odd look and asked why he needed his own fish when he was being fed at home. "For Bitequick," he answered. "I want to do something special for her." His father had thought it a waste to give fish to a creature that could easily feed itself, but finally agreed. He thought it would be a good lesson in being a hard worker and gaining from one's efforts.
As Jaspin rested and Rorik dragged her nets under sail, he glanced off toward the main island of Berk. He immediately noticed a dragon in flight. He also noticed it was flying low and straight toward them. So did a few others.
"Is that one of ours?" someone asked.
Jaspin cringed. If it was, he had a suspicion he knew which one it would be.
The whole crew was watching now as the dragon made its way toward them. Before long, another concern was voiced, this time by Stonetoss. "That thing gonna scare the fish off."
Hogknee gave Jaspin an unhappy look, which the boy tried to ignore. "We agreed you would leave your beast at home."
He hated it when his father called Bitequick a beast. "I did. I told her to stay home." He pointed at the approaching dragon. "Besides, that could be any dragon."
The crew continued watching the approaching figure. "Don't see no one riding it," said one. "Might be a wild one, looking for an easy meal," replied another.
When it became obvious that the dragon was a Deadly Nadder, Stonetoss growled at Jaspin. "Your pretty lizard's gonna cost us any chance a catching something!"
"She would never!" In his heart, though, he had doubts of his own. Was it Bitequick? If it was, why was she out here? Was she trying to scare off the fish or looking for a free meal?
"Warn it off, son," said Hogknee. "Make it go back."
Jaspin looked at him, perplexed by such a command. "How?"
"I don't care how, just do it!"
Having no better ideas, the boy waved his arms. He desperately hoped the dragon, whoever it was, would get the idea and leave. He was surprised to see the Nadder bank away and fly back the way it had come. A few of the others aboard were equally astonished.
Hogknee called them all back to their jobs. "All right, that's enough, back to... Jaspin!"
The Nadder had turned around and was flying low toward Rorik again.
The boy jumped up onto a rowing bench and began waving his arms furiously, still not entirely convinced the Nadder was his. While he could tell Bitequick from any other Deadly Nadder, it was harder to distinguish the pattern of colors on the creature's brightly colored hide from a distance. The sun being almost directly behind it didn't help, either. Surely she could see him trying to wave her off...
The dragon eventually banked away and flew off again, but only after it had gotten closer to Rorik and her crew than before. Jaspin watched it go, wondering what had gotten into it, and who it actually was.
Less than a minute later his stomach clenched into a miserable knot. The Nadder had turned and was once more flying directly toward them.
His father's voice was one of many ringing in his ears, complaining of the dragon's errant behavior and demanding that Jaspin do something to correct it. As if he had the slightest idea how to accomplish that. But as the Nadder flew toward them, he started to get a strange feeling. Something was seriously amiss, and they were all overlooking it. Why would any dragon be doing this?
Jaspin's eye dropped to the waters directly below the dragon. There he got his first clue. He planted his hands on the rail and stuck his head over the side, looking straight down, and got his second. Still ignoring the complaints and threats being tossed about by everyone else, he turned to the mast and clambered up it far enough to see what had caught his eye. Finally, he understood.
"Dad, you're right! Bitequick is scaring the fish!" His admission caused just enough of a lull in the angry chorus for the crew to hear the rest of his statement. He pointed out toward what he now firmly believed was his winged friend. "Right toward us!"
A moment's stunned silence was followed immediately by the entire crew crowding the starboard rail to witness the phenomenon first hand. His father grasped what was happening only a moment later.
"The shallow water! They can't help but see it and they can't dive here, they can only run away from it!" He turned and bellowed in his most commanding voice. "HEAD WEST!"
Bitequick broke off one last time while the crew got the ship positioned. Her last run toward Rorik was preceded by dozens of silvery motes streaking through the water beneath the hull. "Bring 'em in!" Hogknee shouted.
For such shallow water, it was a good haul and they were fairly pleased with the results. The Nadder circled overhead, croaking and chittering at them. Jaspin waved to her and shouted her name. He didn't notice the strange mix of emotions showing on the faces of the crew.
Deadly Nadders like Bitequick were not good at hovering, so he wasn't surprised when she left them behind and headed north. With their fairly large heads and relatively small wings, staying aloft without an updraft of some kind was harder work for the species. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, though. She climbed to a considerable height as she headed away and he could see her head swinging back and forth. He watched her closely, wondering if his suspicion was right.
It was. A few minutes' flight north, she dove toward the water once more. Hogknee and the rest watched her closely as she once again started making her way toward Rorik. He glanced at his son, but Jaspin's eyes were only for Bitequick. "Well, she's rounding up some more. Let's go!" Grumblemud worked the tiller and Rorik turned toward the approaching dragon.
They worked until a few hours short of sundown. It wasn't the position of the sun or the approaching dark that forced them to stop. Bitequick had apparently forced every fish in the protective arms of the Snapspines into Rorik's nets. She finally made her last pass with only a few stragglers running before her. As they were brought aboard, Jaspin grabbed a large Icelandic Cod and turned to his father. "Can I have this one?"
Hogknee eyed the fish in his son's hands, gazed up momentarily at the dragon, then smiled his gaping smile and nodded. Jaspin called to her, waving his prize. As she swooped over the gunwales he tossed the gasping fish into the air. A few of the crew ducked while others laughed and cheered to the wet crunch of the dragon's treat being caught and devoured instantly. The boy smiled and waved as she flew back home to wait for them.
The favorable wind had diminished and they would need to row to get home before dark. As they bent their backs to the task, Jaspin sneaked a glance at Stonetoss. The man seemed mollified by the considerable haul of fish they had. Each member of this trip would have extra pay, as fish or coin, to spend the next day. The only disadvantage Jaspin could see was that with her deck covered in their catch, she weighed considerably more than when they'd left and the rowing was slow and hard.
They were in sight of the docks just before sundown. Grumblemud lifted a horn to his lips and blew two short notes followed by a long one. Within minutes everyone in Berk would be on the docks to help unload and prepare the catch. Much would be salted, some eaten that night and some left to age a day before making stew. Before they touched the dock, Jaspin gave his father a tired grin and asked, "How much is Bitequick's share going to be?"
Hogknee stared at him a moment, aware of the attention of the crew. He looked at the massive amount of food spread across Rorik's deck and made his decision.
"She's a dragon. She can feed herself."
Jaspin frowned, but he also noticed a gleam in his father's eye.
"Since she's your dragon, I'll double your share. Who you give it to is your affair."
He helped with the unloading, a smile on his face. His heart, though, still harbored misery. Each fish taken off Rorik's deck brought him one second closer to the moment she would go to Ingifast. The end of the day would mean his father's departure was one day closer, as well. In all, the trip had gone better than anyone had hoped. But he could not keep his thoughts from becoming clouds and rain.
Word of Bitequick's performance spread as soon as Rorik touched the docks. Jaspin soon heard others wondering if other dragons would do the same for future fishing excursions. Hogknee proudly presented him with a basket brimming with fish, pay for both their efforts. Before he could take the bounty to his friend, his father pulled him aside for a quiet word.
"Stoick's made a decision. Those old enough to start dragon training within the year will go instead to Mord, to learn sword, spear and shield. You'll be in the first group."
Jaspin stood in silent confusion for several moments. "But... I thought I was to work with Kabbi. I thought I was to learn tanning and leather craft."
His father nodded. "You will. You can learn more than one thing, you know." He clapped his son on the shoulder. "You'll finally get to learn how to be a warrior, like you've always wanted." He leaned close and lowered his voice. "And now maybe you can stop sneaking out with my blade and whacking at trees."
Jaspin's eyes threatened to push his brows clear up to the top of his head. "You knew?"
Hogknee chuckled. "Aye. You're my son. I knew you would, because I did the same thing with my father's own battle axe. At least you didn't have a weapon with a wooden handle to break."
Jaspin's eyebrows suffered yet another displacement. His father nodded to the unasked question in his son's eyes. "Now, go see to your dragon. And give her my thanks for a fruitful voyage." He nodded and started to walk off, but stopped a few paces away, a serious look on his face.
"Why are we training for combat? We don't fight dragons any more."
The sudden change in Hogknee's expression put a chill wind up the boy's back. "There's more to fight in this world besides dragons, son."
The sight of Rorik beached near Ingifast's workshop depressed Jaspin mightily. His father had told him it would be good for their family, this trading mission. Their ship would get a refit that would improve her and prolong her life. They would also be paid from the village's coffers for the use of their ship. While Hogknee was gone, Jaspin and his mother would be able to buy whatever they needed even though they couldn't fish. He knew all these things were true, but to see Rorik, her mast removed and her hull upside down on the beach, bothered him terribly. It was almost like looking at a friend who'd been injured.
He'd gone looking for his dragon late the previous night, wanting to give her the reward she'd helped them earn. As sometimes happened, she'd gone off on her own and was nowhere to be found. Jaspin had set the basket of fish inside his house and taken care of his own hunger.
Early the next morning, his friend had reappeared and was roosting on the roof. He'd fed Bitequick while praising her constantly and giving her lots of attention. It seemed to him that she knew she'd done well. She also seemed more affectionate than usual as she ate.
Now they were on the opposite shore, out of sight of Ingifast and his boatyard. Bitequick was splashing about in the cold sea water, washing the fish slime from her muzzle and preening as she so often did. He contented himself with watching the sky; the clouds, the birds, the occasional dragon. It always changed, and if he looked hard enough and long enough he might see something utterly new, something fantastic.
As he watched, a shadow passed over him and down the beach toward the Nadder. An instant later he saw Asgeirr, Snotlout's Monstrous Nightmare. The great red dragon circled several times before touching down on the pebbly beach near Bitequick. Jaspin watched them as they grunted and growled at each other and then began splashing in the water together. It looked like they were having quiet a lot of fun.
Of course if Asgeirr was there, Snotlout was probably not far behind. He kept still, listening. Sure enough, he could hear someone trying to sneak over the coarse terrain and not really succeeding. Every chance Snotlout got, he would try to scare the younger kids in the village. He never seemed to realize that his approach was usually too noisy, or that the presence of his dragon pretty much spoiled any chance of catching others unaware.
Jaspin heard two heavy, running steps, followed by a grunt and the heavy impact of Snotlout's boots next to his shoulders where he lay on the shore. The older boy's shout sounded menacing but was voiced almost a full second after he'd landed. He suddenly wondered if Spitelout's son really meant to scare anyone or simply did such things out of some odd, self appointed tradition. The more he thought about it, he realized that Snotlout hardly ever caught anyone by surprise with his antics. Was that intentional?
"Morning Snotlout," he said affably, acting as though nothing were amiss in the boy's behavior. Which, he supposed, there really wasn't.
The larger Viking straightened his horned helmet and plunked himself down on the shore next to him. "Hey Jaspin." He gave the younger boy's shoulder a half-hearted shove, forcing him to lean slightly to one side. "How's Berk's newest warrior-in-training?"
Jaspin thought this might be what Snotlout would be coming to talk about. He pretended indifference. "Mmm?"
"Yeah, didn't you hear?" He picked up a rock, hefted it once and threw it as hard as he could from a sitting position. The rock arced well away from the dragons that were still stomping around in the surf and landed with a distant clatter further down the beach. "Stoick's called for early training. Everyone over fourteen gets a sword in their hand." He gave him another hearty nudge. "You'll be training with me." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on ya. Don't want to break too many bones your first time out."
"Mmm." Jaspin nodded absently. "Sounds like fun."
"Oh, it is!" Snotlout stood suddenly and moved to stand directly in front of him. He noticed the older boy had a stick in his hand. Of course he was holding it as though it were a sword. He took up a fighting stance and waved the end of his stick menacingly at Jaspin's reclining figure. To carry off the effect he wore a fierce grin. "You'll start with wooden swords. Mostly just bruises and busted knuckles. Then they'll give you a blunt blade. That's when you start bleeding real good." He affected an attack at Jaspin, who barely blinked at the stick swishing around a few inches from his chest. "They may take the edge off, but it will still make a mess of you if you don't keep your shield up properly." The end of the stick poked him a few times in the ribs, not hard enough to hurt but too hard to ignore. He did a fancy slashing spin that glanced off one of his knees. That did hurt, but Jaspin did his best to ignore it.
Snotlout finally planted the tip of his 'weapon' in the ground and grinned smugly at him. "Eventually, if you're worthy, you'll get a real sword and have to do the real thing. That's when you become a true warrior."
Jaspin didn't bother reminding him he'd already had beginner's training and been given a short sword when they'd let him keep watch during raids. Though it wasn't a real warrior's blade, like his father's, he still thought of it as a real sword. He gazed solemnly at Snotlout, knowing how best to deal with his teasing. "Like you did on Red Death Island?"
For a split second the older boy was confused, having had his implied threats dismissed and a chance to brag offered instead. But he was up to the task. His smug grin quickly returned and he waved his tree limb theatrically. "Of course! Don't forget, you're looking at the only Viking in all of Berk who actually laid hands on that cursed monster before it was killed."
"Smacked it in the eyes with a war hammer, I hear." Jaspin leaned forward and sat straight, having steered the conversation in a direction that interested him. "What was it like? Weren't you worried you might fall? Or get eaten?"
Snotlout dismissed such notions with a wave of his hand. "Are you kidding? I was hoping he would eat me. Then I could be the first Viking to kill a dragon from the inside!" He swung his 'sword' against the ground, mimicking the attack he'd laid against the Red Death's huge eyes. "I kept yelling at it, 'Come on you big ugly lizard, open up and let me in!' But it was too smart for that." He then launched into a blow by blow account of his battle with the huge beast. Jaspin had heard him tell the story several times already, but it still intrigued him. Behind Snotlout, however, he couldn't help noticing that Bitequick and Asgeirr were behaving a little odd. They had broken off playing in the surf and seemed to be engaged in sniffing at each other intently.
Asgeirr was a fairly big male of his species, yet they weren't sure of his age. In fact it was hard to figure age for any dragon. They'd never seen any dragons that didn't look like full grown adults. Even now that they could inspect him up close there were few clues as to how old he was or how long he might live.
As he watched the two dragons and their new behavior, he listened with half an ear to Asgeirr's rider. He was very much like his dragon, he reflected. They both tended to be willful, reckless and even dangerous when angered. Jaspin had, however, noticed something interesting about people who associated with dragons. It seemed it was harder for those folks to hide certain aspects of their personalities when they were around their reptilian companions. More so than when they were among other villagers, anyway. Snotlout was a good example of this. As long as Jaspin had known him, the older boy had always acted like a rough, careless warrior type who had no softness in him whatsoever. Ever since he had partnered with his dragon, though, Jaspin had sometimes noticed a peaceful look in his eyes, or a slight smile pulling at his mouth. He had come to believe that Snotlout cared about his dragon in a way he might never admit in words. But it was there to see if anyone looked close enough. And Jaspin did.
Snotlout concluded his heroic retelling with, "You should have seen it. It was amazing!"
Drawing his attention back to the larger boy, he asked, "How big was it, really? I keep hearing different things from different people."
"Kid, I'm telling ya, it was huge! It was at least..." He looked around, trying to find some way to give an accurate comparison. His gaze swept across the rocky, tree topped columns that dotted the waters. He pointed at one of the larger ones. "At least as big as that. Maybe bigger. It was kind of hard to tell from on top of its head."
"And it could actually fly, being that big?"
Snotlout nodded. "Yeah, it did. Don't ask me how."
"I guess your dragon training didn't do you much good against it, huh?"
"Not really." The older boy chuckled. "No one knew about this thing, so how could you train to fight it? We just had to do whatever we could and hope it worked."
"Nothing Hiccup had learned helped?"
"Naw. This thing was just one huge pile of angry. We were lucky we didn't lose more people than we did." A strange look crossed Snotlout's face as he remembered the aftermath of the battle.
Jaspin sighed. "I wish I could have seen it." He looked at Bitequick and Asgeirr, who had finally climbed out of the surf and were lounging together on the beach, enjoying the sun. "I'd even like to see it now, if I could."
"Pff." A dismissive wave of Snotlout's hand swept such ideas away. "It was nothing but a broken heap of charred meat when we were done with it. You could hardly even tell it had been a dragon. Besides, it's been dead for half a year. It probably reeks. I'll bet even the seagulls don't go near the place."
Jaspin said nothing for several moments. Finally, he asked the question that he'd wanted to ask from the time Snotlout had appeared. "So if the Red Death is long gone, and we don't fight dragons any more, why do we have to start training again? Who will we be fighting?"
Snotlout shrugged indifferently. "Other Vikings, probably."
After mulling that over a bit, he asked, "Why?"
An amused look crossed the older boy's face. "That's what Vikings do."
Jaspin considered telling him that they'd always been told that Vikings fought dragons. But that was obviously not the case any more. So if 'other Vikings' were going to be their opponents now, the next question seemed clear.
"What other Vikings?"
Snotlout pointed toward the vast expanse of blue before them. "Depends on who Gobber and your dad find."
Now Jaspin was fairly confused. He'd heard his father talk about the trading mission several times. This topic had never come up. "Are they going to look for someone to fight? I thought they were going to look for someone to buy stuff from."
With an air of worldliness, Snotlout said, "Yeah, well you never know who you might run into out there. Maybe they'll want to trade, maybe they'll want to fight."
"Oh."
The conversation had run its course for Snotlout. He turned and walked back toward Berk. As he moved away, Asgeirr raised his head and watched him go. The Monstrous Nightmare turned to study Bitequick. He nudged her slightly with his snout, but she was fast asleep. When she didn't respond, he got up and followed his rider toward the village.
Jaspin stood and moved close to the Nadder's motionless form. Like others of her kind, she slept like a bird, her legs folded under her and her wings tight against her sides. Her head drooped forward, rising and falling slightly in time with her breathing. He sat down next to her and returned to watching the sky.
"YEEEAAAAAHHAAAAA!"
The sound simply exploded from Jaspin's throat as Bitequick suddenly rolled upside down and plummeted toward the ocean. He heard her happy squawking over the roar of the wind beating at his ears. They dropped incredibly fast, his body tucked as close to the saddle as possible and her wings pulled in tight to her sides. His eyes watered and his cheeks ached as a manic grin split his face.
Simply falling wasn't quite good enough, of course. Bitequick twisted her wings so that they started spinning as they fell. The arc of green and brown that was Berk rotated in and out of his vision like a crazed bee circling his face. As the rumpled blue plate of the ocean widened in his eyes, they stopped spinning and started arcing into straight flight. She leveled out over the water, gliding at top speed, and then pulled up again without flapping. Their motion carried them a few hundred feet into the air until they stopped. When they did, she snapped her wings and flipped her tail to do a nose-over-tail roll. Jaspin hollered again, ecstatic.
Hiccup and Toothless were certainly the best flying team in Berk, since they'd been doing it the longest. But Jaspin believed he and Bitequick spent more time doing aerobatics for the sheer thrill of it than anyone.
They caught an updraft and used it to climb quickly near one of the islets just off the main shore. As they neared the top, the Nadder flew directly for the rocky stack's top, just missing the edge of it as they flew over. She kicked her legs down and scratched at the stone column as they went by. As the small, scrubby plateau flashed by beneath them, Bitequick cut a tight arc that brought them back down toward the other edge. She deliberately clipped the other edge with the tip of her tail as they curved over it and back down toward the water again.
They were far enough from the ocean's surface and slow enough that she could wait a few precious seconds before she leveled out again. She used those seconds to build her speed up once more. Although nowhere near as fast as she had been going the last time, she still leveled out as close to the water as she could, dragging the tips of her claws through the surf to kick up a spray. When they ran out of momentum, she started pumping her wings for height once more.
This was one of the greatest joys in Jaspin's life; the exhilarating motion through the skies, the feeling of unparalleled freedom that his dragon gave him. He often felt he got the better end of the deal from their friendship. While he could care for his dragon, feed her and help groom her and offer his companionship, what she gave him was of significantly more value to his mind. And as his father had pointed out, she was capable of managing her own feeding and grooming. That meant the only thing he really gave her that was of himself was friendship. He very much liked to think she felt it a worthy trade. So far she'd given him no reason to think she felt otherwise.
Bitequick was, in fact, a closer and truer friend than any of the other young people in the village. He knew his occasional single-mindedness bothered people, especially adults. He knew they would often contrive means of sending him away, tasks to do or messages to carry. Even Hiccup, who had been the greatest bane in the whole tribe until The Battle, did it sometimes. That had bothered him a little at first, but he later suspected that Stoick's son was trying to seem more grown up and responsible and that was why he would sometimes push Jaspin away.
His intense longing and outspoken desire to be a warrior and to fight dragons had been humorously tolerated when he was younger, far too small to carry a weapon let alone wield it. Once he had started to grow, his constant interest in swords and battle training had still been tolerated, but with much less humor. His constant questions and pleading to start training had only made him a nuisance.
Now that dragons were a part of Berk and of life in the village, it didn't matter what anyone thought of him. He still liked swords and the idea of being a warrior, but without their age-old enemies to face them, his interest in fighting had been largely replaced by his love of flying.
As Bitequick worked her way back among the clouds, Jaspin felt like he was exactly where he belonged. He scooted back in the saddle and laid his upper body along the shoulders and neck of the Nadder, his head just brushing the large spiked ridge that crowned her. He reached down with his arms and gently rubbed her rounded cheeks, getting a throaty trill of pleasure from her. Yes, he thought, this is my place. Here with her, above the world.
The wind became music, a lullaby set to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her occasional squeak or chirrup would float back to him, making him smile. He drew a deep, contented breath and closed his eyes. He didn't truly doze, but his mind seemed to float off on its own, leaving his body to keep the Nadder company. If there'd ever been a happier moment in his life, he couldn't remember it.
He roused sometime later. Much later than he realized, when he saw Berk was a distant smudge on the horizon and the sun was past the high mark of noon. Bitequick had let the winds carry them where they would and let him sleep, easily cradled between the pinions of her wings. He chuckled and patted her to let her know he was awake. He was also hungry. He sat up and took hold of the saddle grips. "I'm starving. How about we head home?"
His reptilian counterpart gently banked back toward their island and started flapping to make headway. As they swung around Jaspin noticed a speck off in the distance, further west. He first mistook it for a bird. But he quickly realized the shape was all wrong. It was far enough away that he couldn't quite figure out which species of dragon it might be. Something about it struck him odd, though.
As Bitequick finished her turn, the other dragon wound up behind them, flying away. Jaspin twisted in the saddle to take one last look. The sweep of its wings was slow, ponderous. And as far away as it must have been it had to be pretty big for him to see it in an empty sky. The dragon manual said that Scauldrons and Timberjacks were some of the larger species, aside from the Monstrous Nightmares. But the body looked too large and lumpy for any of those.
Whatever it was, it was flying away from Berk. With a shrug, Jaspin turned his thoughts toward home and his next meal.
(c)Wirewolf 2011
"How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright
Dreamworks Animation and used without permission
A/N
I got lazy with my research on Viking fishing, so I have no idea if I've portrayed it correctly here.
I'm not entirely certain I did Snotlout justice. I think I may have softened him up too much. I tend to lean toward that 'everybody's good inside' view of characters that aren't specifically meant to be villains. I've seen other writers portray him much better than I have, with a realistic balance of disdain and empathy.
Jaspin's father, Hogknee Vapnfjord is based off of a Viking you can see in the movie. He's caught my eye many times because of his dental distinction. Anyone know the scene? It's very brief. One Toothless Treat to anyone who can name it.
There are some names given to dragons by their riders that I haven't explained in the body of the stories, so I'll add them here. There will be others later on.
FOLKVARDR - Astrid's Deadly Nadder: Variant spelling of Old Norse Folkvarðr, meaning "guardian of the people."
ASGEIRR - Snotlout's Monstrous Nightmare: Old Norse name composed of the elements áss "god" and geirr "spear," hence "god-spear." Equivalent to Old High German Ansgar.