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Broken

Chapter 14: Measuring Dreams

There was something wrong with the color of the sky, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. For that matter, Berk didn't look right either. There were too many houses that he didn't recognize and the sea was far too distant. He thought he heard sea birds calling in the distance, but their cries sounded too much like screams for his comfort.

The fact that he was dressed in a heavy robe of black wool bothered him, as he had nothing on underneath it and it was making his skin itch something awful. He reached up into one sleeve to scratch fiercely at his arm. He felt rough patches on his flesh and attacked them savagely, wanting to tear away whatever damaged skin he could reach. He saw something drift from his sleeve and flutter to the ground. When he picked it up he saw it was a thin, translucent piece of his own skin. It was circular, black and rippled, like ink on ice. He flung it away in disgust.

The sound he'd taken for sea birds grew shrill, like the panicked cries of a child. He looked around for the source and saw dragons filling the sky. They were flying in all directions, some moving as fast as any dragon could and others slowly drifting by with lazy sweeps of their wings. He watched, fascinated by the sight. The harsh sound in his ears was not coming from the dragons, however. He looked around again for the source.

A large lump covered in brown fur and green linen humped its way toward him. It moved with poor grace and stopped several times as though it were exhausted. He realized the shrieking sound had grown louder as it approached. He leaned over to look under the edge of it, trying to see its origins.

With a violence that startled him the fur and linen were thrown off to reveal a large, muscular dragon with pale white skin and eyes as black as a starless night. The pupils of those eyes were a brilliant shade of green that made him gasp. He looked again at the massive flying reptile, trying to identify it. Wings the color of new snow were spread wide, their fine bones visible through the thinner skin. The dragon's mouth opened to reveal teeth the same hue as newly shed blood and a tongue as yellow as the noon time sun. The screech that beat at his ears threatened to burst them.

He held out his hand, an echo of memory telling him he needed to touch this powerful creature. If he could touch it then perhaps he could speak to it. He might even persuade it to help him. He needed help, didn't he?

The gaping mouth hung open. He could hear a faint hissing sound beneath the endless screech of pain and anger that still hammered at him. The hissing grew in strength. He brought his hand closer, desperately wanting to touch the dragon's nose, his jaw, his wide, flat brow. He lost himself in those black and green eyes as he drew closer.

He shouted in fear as the jaws slammed shut on his arm. There was no pain, only a crushing pressure that told him he was trapped until the dragon let him go. He pushed against the reptilian snout with his other hand and tried to wrest his arm loose. It was buried up to the elbow. Where his free hand touched the frost colored scales he felt a brittle, life sucking cold. It was as if the dragon contained the essence of winter itself. He realized he'd lost the feeling in the hand trapped between the creature's jaws and panicked. He had to get loose or he would die!

He looked the dragon in the eyes, noticing that the green pupils had disappeared. The orbs were a solid, abyssal black that reflected nothing of the world they saw. He realized the hissing had stopped because there was now a growl that spoke of a deep, unrelenting anger. It rose in pitch a moment and then stopped. All sound ceased except the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Suddenly he staggered backward, free from his temporary entrapment. He looked down at his arm in horror. From the elbow down it was gone, as if it had never been. He still felt nothing, no pain of any kind. But there was a creeping, freezing numbness that was working its way up his shortened arm and into his shoulder. He would freeze solid, he knew. He looked up at the dragon.

"Help me, please!"

The dragon only smiled, its lips bending in ways they were never meant to. A voice boomed out from its chest, full of power and rage.

"YOU DID THIS!"

He opened his mouth to protest as the dragon opened his. Brilliant purplish-blue flames enveloped him, setting his robe, hair and skin on fire. Now he did feel pain, and the agony was exquisite. As he raised his nonexistent hand toward the beast in supplication it lifted itself with a single sweep of its beautifully pearled wings. It rose up, leaving him behind to his fiery misery. The last thing he noticed was the strange arrangement of leather lines and metal fittings that wrapped around the dragon's hindquarters. The image of those man-made parts burned hotter in his mind than any of the flames which greedily consumed his body.

Hiccup sat by the smoldering remains of the hearth fire with his wood and iron leg lying across his thighs. He was using a small sharpened stick to dig the mud and stones out of the grooves cut in the pad that served as his left foot. The plentiful spring rains had turned much of the ground around Berk into mud. With that slick muck packed into the walking surface of his prosthetic, getting around on hard surfaces became more treacherous.

He was only partially paying attention to his chore, however. His mind kept going back to the dream he'd had that night. His thoughts bounced between renewed feelings of guilt and responsibility over what he'd done to Toothless and the image of the control lines around the dream dragon's hind legs. There was something in that image that was nagging at him. Something important.

The front door was thrust open and Stoick came in with a load of firewood in his arms. He dumped the wood by the hearth and noticed his son. "Morning," he said, seeing Hiccup holding his false leg across his lap. "Anything wrong?"

"Just cleaning it."

"Ah." Several large pieces of wood were tossed into the hearth, along with a few smaller branches to help rekindle the flames. Once the fire had been restarted, Stoick moved the cook pot into place. The remains of last night's fish stew would serve as a hearty breakfast.

Hiccup had reattached his construct leg and moved to the table next to the hearth. He still had the same small stick in his hand and was scratching at the table's surface. The intense look of concentration on his face was all too familiar to Stoick. Usually such doodling was reserved for one of the boy's journals, but in a pinch he was known to scribble on almost anything available. As he picked up a pair of bowls and moved to stir the pot he glanced down at faint lines marring the table top. It took only a moment to identify a partial picture of the black beast and the contraption it wore to fly. He set about filling the bowls.

When he placed the stew in front of the lad he asked, "What are your plans for this morning?" There was no response to either the question or the food. This was also familiar behavior. He rapped his knuckles on the table, bringing the boy's head up. He pointed to the bowl and asked his question again.

After the first few spoonfuls of stew had vanished, Hiccup said, "I have a few more fittings to finish for Rorik. Then I want to ask Fishlegs if he has anything new to put in the manual about Gronckles."

Stoick nodded. "I've got a busy morning myself. Spitelout's told me there's an argument brewing between the Ornolf's and the Lundby's. A few of the Ornolf's sheep have gone missing and they think it's that Lunby girl's Nadder that got them."

Hiccup frowned. "If a dragon took them, it might have been a feral. I don't think Herdis would let Bitterbug go after someone else's sheep."

"Neither do I, but I've got to look into it." Stoick applied himself to his stew and soon emptied the bowl. Still hungry, he looked around to see if there was any bread left. To his disappointment there was none. He made do scraping out the last of the stew, though there were quite a few blackened flakes floating around in it. He made to ask Hiccup if he wanted any of what was left and realized his son had stopped eating, his bowl still half full.

"Not hungry?"

No response. He rapped the table again and Hiccup dragged his eyes up from the drawing he'd made.

"Huh? Oh, sorry dad." He looked down at the unfinished dragon and furrowed his brow. "I was thinking about a dream I had last night."

Stoick nodded. "Dreams are a way for the gods to speak to us." He'd told his son this many times, so he wasn't surprised when Hiccup just made a small sound of agreement. "What was the dream about?"

An almost pained expression crossed Hiccup's face now. "It was strange. I saw a dragon with a flying rig like Toothless', only it wasn't Toothless."

Stoick frowned slightly.

"And the rig was different, too. It was made with extra controllers and extra lines. Almost as if..." Hiccup subsided, concentrating on his drawing once more.

Stoick remained silent. He glanced down at his speckled stew, clenched his jaw and set the bowl on the table. He went outside without another word.

The young man sitting hunched at the table continued to puzzle over his drawing. There was an idea struggling to break free and he couldn't quite manage it. He'd been pondering the problem laid out on the table for several days now but his solutions kept hitting serious snags. Nothing he came up with survived the first stage of design. Either it was impractical or overly complicated. One idea he'd had early on had seemed quite promising until he'd spotted a possible weak point that would have tangled all the control lines at once if it had given way. He certainly didn't want to risk his life or that of his friend to bring his idea to completion.

Eventually, Hiccup said, "Dad, have you ever-" It was only then that he realized Stoick had left. "Great," he muttered. He shoved his bowl aside and went to pick up his newest journal before he stepped outside.

He got no further than the bottom of the steps before he came to a sudden halt. Standing directly in front of him, no more than an arm's length away, was Ruffnut. As if his morning hadn't been uncomfortable enough. The only person in Berk who could make him squirm more than his father was Ruffnut Thorston. Not only was she a fierce fighter who could have easily outmatched Hiccup at any physical contest, she'd also expressed a bizarre interest in him personally. Granted she'd moved beyond that phase eventually, but he couldn't forget the frightening intensity with which she'd proclaimed that she would make him hers. For two solid weeks he'd feared meeting Ruffnut more than he'd ever feared speaking to Astrid or even confronting his father.

Now, with that strange period behind them, Hiccup seemed to have only three kinds of encounters with the female half of the Thorston twins. Much of the time she would approach him as an equal of sorts when she had need of his experience with dragons. There were also times when she would come down on him for any mistakes or shortcomings of his, as she did with anyone else. Occasionally, however, she would give him a look that seemed to promise an intended renewal of her claim on his person and follow through, regardless of his thoughts about it. As a result, he never really knew how to interact with her at any given time. He preferred simply to avoid her as much as possible unless they were among a crowd, the larger the better.

The fact that she was standing there alone set Hiccup's nerves on edge. He looked around for anyone else that might serve as a distraction and came up empty. Not good, he thought. Nor was the silent, unreadable stare she was giving him. He decided to try bluffing his way through the encounter.

"Good morning Ruff. How are you?" He smiled and gave her a slight nod.

"Hey."

He was unsure of her state now. Was she angry about something? It was so hard to guess her mood sometimes. Most times, actually.

"Um, how's Tuff? Is he around?"

"No." Now she looked unhappy. And not the usual 'Hiccup needs to be teased until he's red in the face' kind of unhappy, either. It was a little closer to a 'people are going to bleed soon' kind of unhappy. While he didn't figure he was out of the fire, Ruffnut almost never took her anger out on him without good reason. That meant unless he had unwittingly done something to put her in a bad mood, Hiccup himself wasn't quite as likely to be the focus of her ire.

"Where is he?" Perhaps her twin was the source of irritation. That would be a safe bet, most days, but Hiccup preferred to keep things calm if he could. Anger at Tuffnut sometimes spilled over into unpleasantness with others.

"Training." That single word was spoken serenely enough. "With Mord." Some stress was placed on the weapon master's name, but not enough to make the situation clear. "And Astrid."

The venom spent on that last name shed all the light Hiccup needed to understand what had put Ruffnut into his path. "I see," he said quietly. "And you got paired up with..."

"Fishlump." He was uncertain if it was dissatisfaction in training with Fishlegs that was bothering her or if it was separation from her twin that was responsible.

"I'm guessing you'd rather be paired with someone else."

"Tuff should be training with me." Spoken in a tone of absolute certainty, that statement. Hiccup couldn't help asking.

"Why? What does it matter-"

"So I can beat the rocks out of his head." Her fist curled up. Those knuckles had left bruises on Hiccup's arms more than once. That left one last question unanswered.

"Well, why tell me? Ask Mord to switch you around."

The look of annoyance she gave him served as a warning but didn't answer the question. Luckily for him she was in a mood to explain.

"Stoick's the one who ordered the training."

Now he wondered how much influence Ruffnut thought he had with his father. He felt a frown pull at his mouth and saw it mirrored on her narrow face. She leaned forward slightly, her shoulders tensing and both her hands balling into fists.

"Ah, I see, yes. Well, I'll mention it to my father the next time I see him."

Her eyes narrowed. Angry dragons seldom looked so forbidding. "Not good enough."

Now Hiccup was feeling a bit upset at such a demand. He let his frown deepen slightly. "I can't control what my dad decides."

Ruff switched to skepticism. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to see how fast her moods could change. "You can tame a Night Fury and kill a Red Death but you can't get Stoick to change his mind."

That summed it up rather well, to Hiccup's thinking. "Entirely different things."

"Pff. Whatever."

"Have you every tried to get him to change his mind?"

"Never needed to, until now."

"Well, take it from me. Night Furies and Red Deaths are a cinch in comparison."

When she said nothing more, Hiccup hoped the exchange was at an end. He gave her another slight nod and started to walk off. He'd actually gotten past her and taken a few steps, his breath held in silent hope.

"I'll trade you."

Hiccup stopped, surprised. This was new. Ruffnut Thorston, reduced to bartering for what she wanted? He turned around.

"Trade?"

She pointed to the journal he held under his arm. "Zippleback stuff for your new manual."

Now he really was surprised. And yet, why should he barter for information everyone else had given freely? It wasn't like there weren't other sources of the information he needed, either.

"I could always ask Tuff."

The smile that settled across her face now gave him shivers. "He doesn't know what I know."

She certainly had piqued his curiosity. "What do you know?"

She said nothing, just smiled that calm, knowing smile. He definitely didn't envy whoever wound up married to her.

"You know what, I'm still working on Gronckles anyway. We can talk about Zipplebacks later." He turned again and started away. Before he got two more steps, he heard her speak a single word that made him stop.

"Mating."

Hiccup turned, getting a really odd feeling. He expected her to be grinning like a cat with the biggest mouse on the island. She was, of course. He wasn't even certain he wanted to know what she knew at that point.

"I don't-"

"Think about it." She held up one hand, two fingers extended. "Two heads." She raised her other hand, extending two more fingers. "Two tails."

Something both repelled and intrigued him. There was a look in her eyes, though, that made him consider it. She wasn't teasing him, trying to make him uncomfortable for her own reasons. He got the impression she really did know something and felt it was potentially as valuable as it was disturbing. Finally he held up a hand. "Lemme go ask."

The smithy was empty by the time he got there but the forge was lit and had been stoked recently. Several heavy braces meant to strengthen Rorik's hull sat to one side, cooling. Gobber had only just left. He picked up the smaller fittings he'd been working on the day before, which only wanted some final shaping to be completed. As he stared at them, he went over what Ruffnut had told him.

He found it hard to believe her claims. They simply sounded... unnatural. It wasn't inconceivable that she'd been making it up, but she'd provided so many strange details that he found himself believing her words. He supposed if he'd ever had any reason to wonder about Zipplebacks, he might have come up with the notion on his own.

He snorted at himself. No, there was no way it would have ever crossed his mind. It was just too odd. He wasn't even sure how he was going to write it up in the new manual. It wasn't that he was ignoring mating habits. It was spring, after all, and the whole of Berk was learning things about their former tormentors they'd never known. That included reproductive habits. But Ruff's claims strained belief. Maybe if he'd seen it himself, or could talk to someone he trusted a bit more, then he'd be able to better judge the accuracy of her statements.

Perhaps Toothless would know. He doubted the Night Fury would mind discussing Zippleback genders. He hadn't run into any topics as yet that his friend seemed to consider off limits. But would he confirm Ruffnut's report that those two headed dragons played both male and female roles during the mating process, or would he expose the whole thing as a disturbing prank? Could Zipplebacks be both male and female within the same body? It was an interesting notion, to be sure. And were the heads separated by gender? Were they separate at all? So far the Thorston twins hadn't seem interested in figuring that out and Hiccup hadn't had time.

Speculations on Zippleback sexuality weren't getting his fittings finished. He picked up the nearest one, pumped the bellows a few times to get the coals good and hot and went to work.

Normally, working alone at the forge was a good way to relax and enjoy himself. Hiccup's world would shrink down to the metal, the fire and his tools. This time there were intruders. Strange dragons with stranger mating practices, inscrutable females with the uncanny ability to make him fidget with just a look and dragons in dreamscapes all filled his head to the point that it took at least twice as long as it should to finish the work.

Of the distractions that haunted him, the dragon in his dream was the most unsettling. He kept seeing the image of the flying rig's bizarre configuration. There was something in that image, something he couldn't grasp. As the last fitting went into the cooling barrel, he had a sudden revelation. It struck him so hard he lost the fitting and had to soak his arm to the shoulder to retrieve it from the water.

It was the shape of the piece itself that had set his mind into motion. It was meant only to help keep some of the ropes which secured the Rorik's sail under control. The shape of it, however, changed in his mind. He pictured it doubled over on itself, and an enclosing of the whole thing to make it a pair of short, shaped tubes. He set the piece down, dried his arm on an old rag as best he could and moved to his small workroom.

It took some time to hunt down the last set of full drawings he'd made for Toothless' flying rig. It included the most recent small changes he'd made to improve his control of the Fury's artificial tail fin. When he had them in his hands, he began studying them intently, looking for a way to make the new modifications he wanted. To his surprise and delight it looked feasible. "Why didn't I think of this before," he muttered. "I'll have to lengthen this line and shift the anchor point, but it should work." He flipped open his journal and began sketching. "I'll need to know how long to make this, and where to tie it in. Hmm, where can I put the bracing? That would be too far back and further up would interfere with his midwings." He glanced up and looked outside. Not even midday. He had plenty of time.

He sharpened his charcoal stick and picked up a knotted measuring string, then tucked his journal into its pocket and set out to find his dragon.

"It just doesn't seem believable, you know? It's like one of those crazy stories Gobber used to tell us when we were little about trolls and fairies and things like that. But, I suppose it might make a kind of sense, if it's really true."

"Yes," Toothless insisted. "Yes yes." He nodded for emphasis.

"Huh. So Zipplebacks are always both male and female, but they don't always use both, uh, halves when it's mating time."

"Yes." Toothless nodded once more, pointing to the elaborate drawings he'd made on the floor of their cove to explain how those two-headed dragons were built. Hiccup looked them over, noticing something the Fury was specifically pointing to.

"Is this..." He pointed to the rather detailed drawing. "Do... are the male and female halves always on the same side? Are all Zipplebacks the same way?"

"No."

Hiccup thought about that a moment. "Are they usually on the same side?"

"No."

"It's just random?"

"Yes."

Hiccup nodded. "Wow. Learned something new today, that's for sure." He looked up at the sun. They had several hours of daylight left. The extended discussion on Zippleback genders hadn't eaten up the entire day. "Look, buddy, there's something I wanted to ask you, something kind of... well, special."

Toothless cocked his head, curious. He moved a little closer, his attention fully on his small friend.

"I, uh, have this idea for an improvement to your flying rig." He pointed to the dragon's hindquarters. "I want to add something back there so you can work the tail fin yourself."

Toothless' head rose up a bit, definitely curious about his friend's intentions.

"I think I can, um, fix it so you can, you know, fly by yourself." He watched the dragon closely, wanting to know how the dragon would take the news. He was surprised to see very little reaction at all, beyond the simple curiosity. "Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes."

That was it. No pouncing, no licking, no jumping around or roaring. The black dragon just stared at him, pupils wide and ears up.

Hiccup didn't say anything for a moment. He was puzzled and a little bit worried. "I'm sorry Toothless, I don't want to... insult you or anything, but..." He tried to think of the best way to put it. "I guess I just thought you'd be... I dunno, a little more excited. Or something." He shrugged helplessly. "Don't you want to be able to fly by yourself?"

The Night Fury didn't answer right away, but he did eventually nod and grunt, "Yes."

"I see."

Toothless reached with one forepaw to the special metal 'pencil' Hiccup had made for him. His clever friend had also made a special pocket for it and attached it to his flying rig. Whenever he had it on, he could carry his pencil with him. He took it out now and found some flat, sandy ground. He quickly drew a few pictographs from their ever expanding vocabulary.

[want fly alone - not need fly alone]

Hiccup understood the statement, but found it hard to believe. "Don't you miss your freedom?"

[fly alone miss you more]

That straightforward statement, made with simplified pictures drawn in the dirt, made his throat tighten a little. Part of him felt a keen sense of pride and warmth at such a declaration. But another part of him insisted there was something wrong about it, about everything that happened between the two of them.

As he usually did when such conflicting feelings threatened to overwhelm him, Hiccup pushed them aside and concentrated on the task at hand. He needed measurements of Toothless' hindquarters so he could figure out how to put his idea into practice. He showed the knotted rope to his friend.

"Remember the last time? I'll need to use this on you again to make sure it all works right."

Toothless nodded and took up a wide-legged stance with his wings spread.

Hiccup smiled. "Actually, buddy, I need you to hold yourself the way you would be if you were flying. And I, uh, need to measure you, um, back there." He nodded at the reptile's narrow hips.

With a strangely playful look on his face, Toothless kept his wings spread wide and leaned forward until his body collapsed, his chest on the ground and all four legs pointed toward his tail as they would be during flight. He huffed a deep breath, setting the dust in front of his nose swirling.

Hiccup chuckled at his friend's antics. Measuring rope in hand, he approached the lean flank and started his work.

It was still going to be difficult. Even with the special parts he'd just envisioned, creating a second set of controls for the bright red tail fin would not be easy. The most important part of the whole new design would be the safety factor. The changes could not be allowed to interfere in the operation of Hiccup's foot pedals. The fall they'd taken during their first serious trial flight was something he never wanted to experience again. And it wasn't only his life at stake.

He was able to get only a little bit of his work done with Toothless lying on his stomach. He needed to design and mount some braces that would have to be placed near his hind legs, and for that he would need access. He moved around to his dragon's head.

Toothless' eyes were closed, as though he had decided to relax and snooze through the process of taking measurements. Hiccup took a breath to ask him to roll over for him. Something caught his eye, and he wound up holding that breath.

[miss you more] was all that was left of Toothless' last written sentence. His gusting sigh had obliterated the [fly alone] portion.

Hiccup was struck by the coincidence. And the awful irony of their relationship hit him between the eyes once more.

He'd tried to kill Toothless, and wound up saving him instead. He'd damaged Toothless, and done his best to make repairs and amends.

The dragon was his best friend. Would likely be the closest friend he would ever have, he knew. And it had all started in a moment of ignorant selfishness. Toothless was tied to him because of that single moment, and was happy about it. [miss you more] More than flying alone, more than his personal freedom. More than being what he had been before that moment.

Toothless had forgiven him. Had told him, as clearly as he was able. Considered the trade a worthy one.

Hiccup still wasn't certain.

Once more he thrust those troubling thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on the task before him.

He thrust his left leg out and squatted on his right, to get close to Toothless' head. He gently laid his hand on his dragon's warm brow. Sleepy eyes regarded him curiously. "Would you mind rolling over for me? I need to see how your back legs move."

Gurgling softly, the Night Fury tucked one wing and rolled easily onto his back. Then, with both wings folded up close to his body, he held his legs in their natural 'flight' position. Or he simply let gravity pull them close to his body in plain laziness. Hiccup couldn't be certain. Regardless, the young man needed to measure the very base of his tail, his hip area, and determine the amount of flexibility in his rear legs, knees and ankles, as well as how much movement he had in his hind paws. Then it would be a matter of working out how to run the second set of control lines under Toothless' midwings to a set of controllers that the dragon could grasp with his hind paws.

Of course, that assumed those hind paws could grasp objects the same way his forepaws could.

He took a moment to examine those paws and their claws. To his relief, they were shaped the same. There was an opposable claw facing the other three, giving his friend the ability to cling and climb to a considerable degree. And if he could use those paws to cling to tree limbs and such, then his idea for a second set of controllers would work.

To make certain of his assumption, Hiccup placed his arm against the thick, tough pad of the dragon's hind paw and said, "Do me a favor, please, and see if you can grip my arm."

Toothless shifted his head slightly and looked at him with one eye. The claws of his hind paw closed around his forearm, trapping it there without being able to put any real pressure on it. The limits the dragon had on gripping with his forepaws seemed to also apply to the hinds. When Hiccup said, "Okay, buddy, that's good" he found his dark scaled friend was in a playful mood and wouldn't release his arm. "Gah, come on Toothless. I need this arm to draw!"

It took a few more moments of half-hearted struggle before the Fury relented and released his arm. As he staggered back a bit, grinning, an image of his dream came back to him and left him feeling as if he'd been doused in cold water. He remembered trying to reclaim his arm from the dragon in his dream and stumbling much the same way. It was an unsettling coincidence and it took some of the joy out of the moment.

From that point it was measuring and designing, drawing his ideas in his journal and making sure the additional rigging wouldn't interfere with the original equipment. He had Toothless twist his legs and flex his ankles, looking for the best way to match his ideas to his friend's body.

As he manipulated the dragon's limbs and laid the knotted rope over a great deal of his lean hindquarters, it occurred to Hiccup that Toothless was the only one with whom he had regular physical contact. While he used to be subject to teasing and semi-playful attacks against his person, he had never really had anyone with whom he could simply sit. Or, for that matter, anyone with whom he could engage in anything even slightly intimate, like a hug. Without being fully aware of it, he had come to cherish the privilege of being able to do those things with his reptilian companion. Those infrequent occasions when he slept next to Toothless always filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort he'd never had from anyone else.

Finally Hiccup sat down next to his friend, leaned against the warm scaled flank and turned his full attention to drawing. There were several minor problems he needed to work out before he could begin building the new parts, and sitting next to Toothless in their cove gave him the peace of mind he needed to focus.

By the time he was satisfied with what he had on paper, it was only an hour or so until sunset. He shifted painfully, putting away his journal and trying to get his shortened leg to stop cramping. He'd ignored it while he'd been working and now realized he'd spent most of that time with it tucked at a bad angle. It was one of the things he'd learned about how his body reacted to the loss of a limb. He could sometimes feel things in the part of his leg that no longer existed, yet at other times he could unwittingly strain the muscles of that leg without feeling any discomfort until it reached seriously painful levels. Gobber had called them 'ghost pains', but they were all too real to him.

When he was finally able to stand, Hiccup once again approached Toothless' head. This time, though, the Night Fury was well and truly asleep. He could tell from the deeper, more relaxed breathing and from the way his body laid, wings partly unfurled at his sides and legs splayed to their natural limits toward the ground.

Hating the thought of waking him, Hiccup spent several minutes watching him sleep. As his gaze swept over the graceful form, the awe he felt toward his friend filled him without reserve. He was such a powerful creature, yet could be as gentle as a mother with her child. He was capable of attacking enemies with devastating force. He was also capable of being as playful as one of the village's kittens.

A line caught his eyes. Hiccup had seen it before, it and all the others. It sent a tiny shiver through his slender frame. He stepped closer and carefully knelt by the large dark body.

His hand reached out and lightly traced the deep scar left behind by the ropes. This one crossed Toothless' neck on the right. There were many others, most of them his doing. That single, painfully regrettable act of his had greatly marred the being before him. The evidence sent thorny prickles deep into his heart. Under his calloused hand he could feel the groove that had been cut into scales and skin and muscle.

How much pain, he wondered once again, as the bola had wrapped its unforgiving arms of rope around him? How much terror as he plummeted out of control toward the ground? How lucky was he that he hit the island and not the water?

The guilt rose up once more, ever present. It wasn't as bad as it had been. He reminded himself that he'd been forgiven. Knew it as a fact.

But it didn't change the scars that lined the Fury's dark skin.

Still his fingers traced the line along his friend's neck. A single phrase kept repeating itself in his mind.

"I did this."

The memory of his dream returned and he pulled his hand away as though it had been burned. He forcefully closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, hating what his ignorance had done to the dragon sleeping before him.

He'd been wrong. He had hurt Toothless and no matter what the dragon said, nothing he could do would every truly make it right.

But he could still try.

(c)Wirewolf 2011

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

Dreamworks Animation and used without permission

AN

I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get done. I was held up for a week during the Thanksgiving holiday, visiting family and friends out of state.

There are two major notes I need to add to this.

The first: Anyone who's watched Dreamworks' "Gift of the Night Fury" is probably assuming I took one of the story elements from that short and stuck it in this chapter. I won't spoil it for those who haven't seen it, but I will say that my use of that story element was planned months ago. It was, in fact, one of the key points I made in my notes, planned out before I even posted the first chapter of "Broken." I understand that the timing is certainly suspect, but if I were a faster writer I could have made it look like Dreamworks had copied me instead of the other way round.

The second: If you're vaguely obsessed (!) with this movie like I am, you may have noticed that Toothless has numerous scars on his body. The film makers put those scars there to correlate with where the ropes bound him so tightly when he got shot down. I wanted those scars to be reminders to Hiccup of what had happened between them, an unavoidable marker of accountability on his part.

I'm not 100% certain what the next chapter needs to focus on so there will be a few extra days involved in working on plot arc. Hang tight folks, we'll get to the end of this eventually!