Broken
Chapter 19: Status Symbols
Breaktooth Island, third in the long row of islands that made up the Snapspine Islands, was a lousy choice for hunting. It was the largest of the chain of rocky islets that made up the Snapspines and had plenty of trees and grass for the deer and boar that lived there to hide among and eat. But the uneven landscape was riddled with overgrown pitfalls and narrow cuts that were often hidden from view. Such features made it difficult to move quietly or quickly, something an accomplished hunter like Snotlout Jorgenson could certainly appreciate. It was, in fact, the reason he liked to hunt there. It made it more challenging.
His hunt had certainly been challenging today. He hadn't been able to get close enough to anything to get within spear-throwing distance. He liked hunting with spears, mostly because he liked throwing things. He preferred to go after boars, especially mothers with piglets or big tuskers. They were most likely to charge, making his work both harder and easier. He'd been hurt several times doing it, but most of those injuries were mild and left only faint scars that seriously disappointed him.
Looking around, Snotlout realized he'd traversed the length of the island without taking any game. He wondered if Asgeirr was having better luck. A glance at the sun told him he'd been at his hunt far longer than he'd thought. He needed to get back to the clearing.
Not expecting to see any animals along the path he'd just made to get where he was, he paid scant attention to his surroundings as he made his way back. Instead, he practiced spear thrusts at trees and draw-and-slash attacks against saplings. He was getting good at drawing his sword, making a single, well aimed swing at a target and returning the weapon to its scabbard in one smooth motion. He could even get the blade back in its sheath without looking most times. He'd accidentally given himself only one shallow cut on his thumb from the afternoon's practice against his leafy foes.
Just before he got to the clearing he saw a fairly thin tree before him with two sturdy pine saplings to either side. The tree was about as wide as his cousin Hiccup and made for a difficult target. He took a moment to plan his attack, hefted his spear once and took off running.
The moment the ash shaft left his hand his sword was out and swinging. He made one sweeping cut to the right, head high, followed through easily with a spinning slash toward the left. He wound up with his legs wide, leaning forward with his off hand held out before him and his shining blade held high to his right. He looked to his right; the immature pine never had a chance, cut clean in half. A glance to the left showed the second enemy similarly cleaved. Before him stood the tree he'd been aiming for. His spear was embedded a good thumb's length into the wood. He smiled with satisfaction as he drew it out and stepped into the clearing.
He heard the contented thrumming before he actually laid eyes on his Monstrous Nightmare. He also heard a wet crunch that could only be the bones of Asgeirr's prey being broken open for the marrow. Snotlout smiled to himself, pleased that his dragon had hunted successfully even if he had not.
As he broke into the clearing where they'd landed earlier the smell of slaughter reached him. The mixed odor of deer guts and dragon flame hit him, reminding him of the attacks Berk had endured until recently. It was a smell Snotlout used to find exciting; the scent of the life and death struggle between Vikings and dragons. Now it was commonplace, the scent of his dragon eating.
Asgeirr had his snout buried in the abdomen of a small buck, enjoying the organ meat within. His luminous eyes shifted slightly, tracking his rider's progress into the clearing before concentrating once again on his meal. The pleased thrum that came from his throat grew in volume at the Viking's presence. The serious business of eating was at hand, however. He raised his bloody snout, parts of the deer's internals dangling from his extremely large teeth. A shake of his head sent them flying before he plunged into the carcass once more.
Nearby were the decimated bones of a second deer and a third, untouched doe. Asgeirr had done very well, indeed. Snotlout sighed and looked for a good place to sit down. He knew better than to disturb his Nightmare when he was feeding. Finding a fallen log that hadn't yet rotted away he sat down with his sword across his knees. He took out the smooth gray stone he used for sharpening and began carefully honing the blade.
The repetitive motion of running the stone over the sword's keen edge was relaxing to him. The long strokes he used made a metallic rasping he found pleasing. He remembered lying in his bed at night as a child and hearing his father Spitelout sharpening his sword after a fight with the dragons. He'd come to find it immensely comforting, for it meant his father had survived another attack and was planning on being ready for the next. He also remembered the elaborate fantasies he'd concocted of how his life would be when he was old enough to join Berk's defenses. He had imagined standing on piles of dead dragons, basking in the admiration of his fellow villagers.
One villager in particular he had expected to impress: Astrid Hofferson. It had seemed pretty simple to him then; kill scores of dragons, get the girl. It was how his father and mother had come together, over the steaming body of a Nadder Spitelout had dispatched with two powerful strokes of his axe. At least that's how they told it.
His fantasies died a quick and unexpected death, however, thanks to his over-brained and under-developed cousin Hiccup. Killing dragons was now a thing of the past. He looked up at the Monstrous Nightmare across the clearing as it tore a haunch off the deer. A smile crept across his face.
As far as Snotlout was concerned, learning to tame dragons was the first thing Hiccup had ever done right. Asgeirr was an amazing creature and he was glad the dragon hadn't been killed before he got a chance to ride him into battle. Practicing his fighting skills had once been his favorite activity, but that was before he discovered the nerve-wracking thrill of riding a dragon. Best of all, his dragon was the largest of any that had stayed in Berk. It was known to be a tremendous fighter, just like his rider. The only other villager that still rode a dragon and had a Monstrous Nightmare was Anvindr, and his was a runt. He always felt a strong sense of satisfaction when he rode over the skies of the village, him and his dragon showing the world they were a force with which to reckon.
He wasn't much of a thinker, so it never occurred to him to wonder why no one had ever considered taming dragons before Hiccup. He simply knew that dragons were the only beasts worthy of being pets to true Vikings. Sheep were food and cats were pest control. But dragons, ah, dragons were pets and weapons and hunting partners and the ultimate transportation. They were, in his opinion, meant to serve next to Viking warriors.
Of course they were still dangerous animals that needed to be treated with the same respect one showed a well sharpened weapon. Fooling around with a dragon would only get one pointlessly injured or even killed, or perhaps injure the beast itself. Snotlout had learned quickly how to act toward Asgeirr. His father had given him the simplest yet most helpful advice. "It's a dragon. Treat it like a dragon. And always remember what dragons can do if you make them angry or fearful."
So far, he and his Monstrous Nightmare had gotten along quite well, especially after Hiccup had made them a saddle. He hadn't truly understood the need for the saddle until Hiccup had brought it to him and told him to test fit it on the back of Asgeirr's neck. Snot had looked at the oddly shaped leather contraption and asked simply, "What do I need that for?"
"To make it easier for the dragon to carry you," Hiccup had replied.
Snotlout had scoffed. "He doesn't have any trouble carrying me."
Hiccup had stared at him strangely. Then he said, "You sit on his neck, right?"
"Yeah."
"You hold onto his horns, right?"
"Yeah. So?"
Hiccup had pointed to his younger brother, playing nearby. "You ever carry Spitlout on your shoulders?"
Snotlout had furrowed his brow, not liking the comparison. "Yeah."
"Does he grab your ears and try to steer you that way?"
He'd felt a slight scowl pull at his mouth as he began to understand.
Hiccup had held up his newest creation. "Saddle," he said, shaking it slightly. He pointed to two metal bars mounted on the front of it. "Hand holds, so you can keep your grip without hanging onto Asgeirr's horns. That way, your dragon can turn his head while you're flying him. He can see where he's going. Better for you, better for him."
His scowl had faded. "Huh."
That hadn't been the last time Hiccup had helped him learn to deal with his dragon, either. The hopeless weakling had finally found what he was best at. Whenever Snotlout had trouble understanding what his Nightmare was doing, he could wander over to the smithy or the Haddock house and tell his cousin, "See if you can figure this out."
Hiccup always did figure it out.
He picked up a broad leaf from the ground and ran it lightly over the edge of his blade. It sliced through effortlessly. He sheathed his sword, tucked away his sharpening stone and watched Asgeirr finish up the second deer.
The only thing that bothered Snotlout about having his pet dragon was that whenever he looked at the Nightmare, he was reminded of what Hiccup had done. And what he had changed.
The whole time Snotlout was growing up he'd viewed Hiccup as an irritation, someone he'd like to see vanish or, failing that, humiliated. Stoick's son had managed to humiliate himself often enough that putting effort into any serious pranks or jokes was hardly necessary. Though it could often be fun.
After the battle, having ridden on the back of a Monstrous Nightmare against the largest dragon anyone had ever seen, his attitudes toward dragons changed dramatically. So did his opinions about Hiccup.
Once the last drifting bits of ash and Death guts had settled on the beach, Snotlout found he could no longer view Hiccup as an object of derision. He was reminded of that fact every time he saw the exceptional scar his cousin now had to show for his efforts. Sure, it made walking harder and running nearly impossible, but no one who saw Hiccup's missing leg or his Night Fury companion could call him a coward or an annoyance.
That, unfortunately, had ruined another of Snotlout's plans. While Stoick had never hinted at such a decision, his own father had told him more than once that it was plainly obvious Lout was the only reasonable choice to be the next leader. What was more, his father wasn't alone in his opinion. Whenever he brought up the subject of the junior Haddock's lack of qualifications, those around him would agree with his views. Up until the end of their dragon training, he came to see his rise to the position of chief as practically inevitable.
In those first weeks after dragons had made themselves at home on Berk, however, it had looked like Stoick's son would actually be accepted as the next chief of the tribe. He had felt some irritation at that. But with Hiccup stumping around on a wood and metal leg and telling folks how to feed and care for their dragons, even Snotlout had felt a certain level of acceptance toward the idea of taking his father's place as Second to the chief.
Now, however, things had changed once again. Stoick wanted to contact other Viking tribes. That would almost certainly lead to finding some worthy foes to fight. And while Hiccup may have found the soft spot in dragons, he didn't have a hope of going up against other true Vikings. It wasn't that he still wanted his cousin to humiliate himself in failure. Snotlout now believed that if he could do well in any upcoming battles, he could still prove he was better suited for leadership than Hiccup. There was no way the twig boy would be able to handle other Vikings by feeding them fish or rubbing their cheeks.
Perhaps Snotlout would even have another chance to win Astrid over. Hiccup certainly hadn't made any progress in that regard. If anything he'd lost any chance of gaining Astrid's favor, let alone her father's.
With a final crunch and a few minutes' work to lick the blood off his long muzzle, Asgeirr finished his meal. The big red and black dragon looked Snotlout's way, then stood and approached the final deer. He nudged it with the tip of his muzzle, pushing it toward his rider. Snot stood as well and approached him, realizing his Nightmare was done eating. He put a large hand on the dragon's jowl and gave a comforting scratch.
"Is this one for me?" he asked, knowing the beast couldn't understand a word he said. He knew it was the tone of his voice that let the animal know how he was feeling. "Well, thank you Asgeirr. How about we take it home, eh?" His voice held a warmth it seldom had when he spoke to other people.
The dragon rumbled and thrummed and carefully nudged him on the shoulder with his snout. Snotlout smiled, happy to have the hunting trip turn out so well despite his lack of success. He climbed onto the saddle he'd left strapped around Asgeirr's neck and shoulders during the hunt and settled himself. The huge wings spread wide, already catching the ocean winds that made their way across the island. With a hop to snatch up the last deer lying in the clearing, they rose up into the sky with a roar and a fierce yell. Together they told the world they were a team to be respected; a bull Nightmare and his Viking rider, fighters to be feared.
She'd known it was coming. She'd been warned, told stories of how horrible it would be. Even her parents had said she would be in for a very difficult time of it. But there was no avoiding it. It was every villager's duty and a crucial skill. And it wasn't just the hard work, either.
It was the smell.
Astrid had been less than thrilled to learn tanning and leather craft from Kabbi, the old man whose house was the only one that stood further away from the village's gathering circle than Freygerd's. She hadn't shirked her responsibilities, though. She'd simply gritted her teeth and gone at the task of learning to tan hides with as much determination as she had in learning her hunting and fighting skills.
From the first, learning to fight dragons had been her primary goal. She had wanted to be the best shield maiden of her generation and protect Berk from the ravages of dragon attacks. Once the war with the dragons was over, she'd become a hunter. Einarr had taught her how to help protect her village from starvation and she'd taken to it with relish. The downside of being a hunter was that every animal she took that had a useful hide needed to be skinned and tanned, and that she would usually have to do that work herself. Kabbi was an old man, a widower who'd lost his wife long ago to a dragon raid and he could only do so much work himself.
She'd learned one good way to reduce the amount of skinning and tanning she had to do was to always give a portion of any kill to Folkvardr, her Nadder. With a leg or two missing from the carcass of any creature, the remaining hide was seldom worth keeping.
A few days ago, however, she'd gotten one of the largest bucks she'd ever laid eyes on. She'd found it on Greslardin, the biggest island to Berk's west and one of the best places to go for a hunt. Folkvardr had gone off while she was hunting and found himself a seal. Thus gorged, he'd been uninterested in taking a bite out of her deer. The whole carcass had come home and the skin, quickly and expertly removed by her aunt Freya, had gone with her to Kabbi's house.
So now she stood in her oldest clothes, the ones she reserved for the foulest jobs, and prepared to lay the buck's skin across the log she would be using as a scraping stand. The heavy, penetrating stench of death and feces had her gasping for several minutes until she'd gotten somewhat used to it.
Using a forked stick she stirred the skin which had been soaking in a half barrel of pungent fluids made to soften the hide and hair so it could be scraped clean. The odor seemed to come straight up from the small vat and hit her right in the face. She had to back off a moment, coughing.
When she turned back she saw Ruffnut walking toward her, a bloody bundle held in one hand with its end dragging in the dirt. The Thorston girl looked about as happy to be there as she was. Taller and leaner than herself, Ruffnut was as fierce a fighter as any. Astrid considered her a friend, but mostly because she was the only other young woman her age in the village. Ruffnut was a fair hunter and had learned much about making clothes from her own mother. She lacked focus, however, and often acted bored if she didn't have Tuffnut to fight with.
The lanky girl walked right up to the soaking tub her own deer hide was in and carelessly tossed her burden into the dark, smelly mess. She didn't even seem to react to the stench except for a quick shudder and brief squinting of her eyes. She looked around for a kneading stick. As she did, Astrid pulled her own prepared hide from the vat and let it drip a few minutes. Once Ruff had found a heavier pole for working the disgusting mixture into the pelt she'd tossed in, she looked at Astrid and gave a small nod and a quiet, "Hey."
"Hi Ruff," she answered. She could tell the female half of the twins was unhappy about something but until she started talking on her own, Astrid would not be able to coax anything from her. She gently shook out her deer hide and draped it across the scraping log.
For a time the only sounds were the pounding of Ruffnut's kneading stick and the harsh scraping of the somewhat blunted drawknife Astrid was using to clean her deerskin. Neither the atmosphere nor the work was conducive to small talk so she let herself concentrate fully on getting her work done as quickly and skillfully as possible. She'd gotten nearly half the hair off the outer side when she realized Ruff's pounding had stopped. She looked up.
The young woman was staring right at her, an odd look on her face. She said nothing. Ruffnut was known for strange behavior now and then, including such staring in the hopes of unsettling her victim. She'd never had any luck against Astrid with that particular ploy, however. Something else was going on.
"What," she asked, wondering if she should be worried.
Ruff blinked slowly a few times before she spoke. "Are you gonna get married or are you gonna leave the island?"
"What!" The question was so unexpected and bizarre she forgot her work, forgot the evil smell and just stared at her. It took a moment for her to run the question through her mind and realize she'd not misheard it. "What are you talking about?"
The lanky girl shrugged listlessly. "The way I figure it, those are going to be our only options." She paused, looking suddenly thoughtful. "I suppose we could just leave. We can fly off on our dragons any time we want."
Astrid was still utterly confused by her friend's words. "I don't get it. Why should we leave? Or get married?"
"At least I think I can," Ruffnut muttered, seemingly distracted by her own thoughts. "Bjalki wouldn't mind. Bjarki, though, she'd go loopy without Tuff in a day or two." Her expression darkened. "Stupid twiddlescattered rat muncher."
"Ruffnut," Astrid said patiently.
"It's sickening, really. You'd think he was another Zip lizard the way she moons over him.
"Ruuuuuff!"
"I tried to get Bjalki to do something about it, but he'd rather pretend it isn't happening. I even tried to explain to him how embarrassing it is, but I think he's just laughing it up. Sometimes..." She focused on the shorter girl, a look of dire seriousness on her narrow face. "... I wonder about those two."
Astrid took a breath to shout and wound up letting it go as a bewildered grunt. "Wait, wait. You talk to your dragon?"
Ruffnut inexplicably went back to working her pelt into the horrible smelling vat with her large stick. "Of course."
Astrid smirked, unwilling to fall for one of her friend's strange jokes. "Really. And he understands you, does he?"
"Sure." A half-hearted nod. "Uh huh. At least I think he does." She stopped plunging her deer skin a moment and looked up. "You have to understand, Astrid." She pointed a slim finger at her own head. "Zipples ain't right."
With a sigh Astrid gave up on the dragon question and went back to the one of importance to her. "So why should we leave?"
Now she got an incredulous look, as thought she were the one talking crazy. "What, you don't remember what Freygerd told us when we were little girls?"
She nearly slapped her forehead in frustration but reconsidered after remembering the caustic mess with which they were covered. "Freygerd told us a lot of things. What, specifically, are you talking about?"
"About the tribes." When Astrid didn't respond, the other girl added, "Before the dragons." When there still was no reaction, she impatiently spelled it out. "The tribes used to marry their kids off to each other to make alliances and stuff."
Astrid frowned as she did, indeed, remember those stories. She hadn't thought of them in years.
"When Spitelout and Gobber find the other tribes, I figure we'll either start fighting 'em, or start marrying 'em. Maybe both. So either we marry someone here, before that happens, or we plan on getting hauled off to some other island, married to some dolt we've never met before." She went back to pounding her pelt to the bottom of the vat.
Astrid hadn't considered this aspect of making contact with one of the other tribes. She didn't know what upset her most; that she would have to marry someone before she wanted, that she might not get to choose who she married, or that she might have to leave Berk and her family behind.
"You don't really think Stoick would do that, do you?"
Without looking up from her stinking work she replied, "Tuff asked my dad last night. He didn't say it right out but he kinda hinted at it, while he was looking right at me." She rammed the heavy stick into the vat a few times, probably imagining someone's head taking the pounding instead of the deer hide. "Tuff was all excited, of course. He never could find any girl in Berk who could stand being around him." Suddenly her head came up. "Except Herdis." She looked at Astrid. "Don't tell him, but I think Herdis might have a crush on him."
She didn't care about Herdis' crush. All she could think about was the possibility she might have to leave everything she cared about. "But what about our families?" Just saying that much put an ache in her gut. How could Stoick send her away?
Ruffnut responded with only a shrug. Then she tipped her head toward the village in general. "You know you've got no shot at Twigs now."
Astrid glared at her. "What do you mean?"
"Come on. Hiccup's the son of the chief. Stoick will marry him off to some other leader's daughter. Nothing Twigs can do." A grin crossed her thin lips. "His fate is sealed. His wife will have to be some girl from a powerful family, with ... whatever you call it. Pride. Honor. Money." She gave a vague wave of her hand. "Stuff."
She should have thought of this. The ache in her middle clenched into a hard, bitter knot. She should have seen this coming. Ending the war with the dragons had made life in Berk much better. She should have known there would be a price for her happiness. She was a guardian of her village, she had an amazing companion in Folkvardr and she had time enough to figure out what her next goal should be.
But meeting up with another Viking tribe would endanger all that. Ruffnut was right. The traditions that had worked for many connected tribes didn't work for Berk, cut off by dragons from the rest of the world. For generations those traditions had been ignored by the chiefs as unworkable. Villagers were allowed to marry as they wanted. Skills were learned by those who showed promise. Certainly some things were mandated. Kabbi had wanted to be a fisherman, but when his father produced only one child it was understood he would have to take up his family's trade of tanning and teach everyone else the basic skills.
Where would she wind up? There was no telling, now. There was no time to refigure how to approach Hiccup again, perhaps get him to open up once more and show the promise the battle had brought out in him. Leave her family? Leave Berk? Leave everyone and everything she knew and loved?
And what about Folkvardr? Would she be allowed to keep him? Or would that be stripped away like everything else?
Marry or leave. Who could she possibly marry? Those on Berk who were her age made for reasonably good friends. But as a husband? She couldn't think of one she wouldn't eventually take a hammer to. Not one of them would see her for who she was, would want to create a family as a partnership and not as a duty or a right. There were none who would see her value as a person, an equal.
Except Hiccup.
Like a torch suddenly lit in a darkened house, she saw it for the first time, truly understood it.
It was always 'except Hiccup.' Everyone knew their place; everyone had useful skills, and everyone fit in.
Except Hiccup.
Everyone had known killing dragons was the only way to protect all that was good and meaningful; that any response to the presence of a dragon other than brandishing a weapon was wrong minded, weak and unsuited for Viking life.
And there was no one who had ever worked as hard to gain Astrid's trust, tried to make her see the world in a new way or showed her that changes could make her life better except...
Except the one person who would apparently be married to some complete stranger, a girl from a foreign tribe who had status and would probably never see Hiccup for who he really was; a girl who would almost certainly make his life unbearable. If she were a true Viking, a fierce shield maiden that saw the world the way Berk had a year ago, she would inevitably wind up hating Hiccup, hating everything Berk now had: peace, with dragons and with itself.
Astrid heard the sound of large wings approaching and looked up, hopeful for one instant that it would be the person she now wanted most to talk to. But it was Asgeirr carrying Snotlout and a deer carcass.
Definitely not the one she wanted to talk to.
The large Nightmare came in to a gentle landing. Before he touched the ground, he tossed the doe in his talons forward and caught it by one leg in his snout. Thus unimpeded, he settled firmly to the ground, pressing his chest flat to allow Snot to dismount without jumping. As his rider swung one leg over the dragon's neck saddle, Asgeirr carefully dropped the deer to the grass. He turned his head to watch the young Viking, giving him a soft huff of breath in his face. Snotlout gave him an affectionate rub along his jowls before turning his attention to the young women before him.
There wasn't much of a breeze blowing so it was a moment before the newcomer got the full effect of their work. Snotlout tried to suppress his shudder of disgust but failed. He did at least manage to act as though such unpleasantness was of no consequence to him. He strolled right up to them with a hearty if somewhat strained, "Hey girls, what's cooking?"
"Sheep brains and dragon dung, of course," Ruffnut answered calmly. "Want some? It'll make a real Viking out of you."
Astrid smiled despite herself. Behind the new arrival, she noticed Asgeirr had moved back a bit and settled into the grass. The lounging dragon seemed not to care one bit about the smell that wafted around Kabbi's small house. She recalled the first time she'd been to the master tanner with her Nadder in tow. Folkvardr hadn't seemed to notice the smell, either.
For some reason that thought brought to mind the first question she'd asked Kabbi at her first tanning lesson. She'd wanted to know if dragon skins were good for anything. "Don't know," the old man had admitted. "Never been able to cure one properly. They always rot."
That memory vanquished the humor she'd felt a moment ago and put her back in an unsettled frame of mind. Thoughts of marriage and what amounted to banishment from Berk returned to whirl around in her head in a dark, unhappy cloud. Snotlout's presence only highlighted the new problem.
"But I already am a real Viking." He pointed to himself, grinning confidently. "And I have all the makings of a great hero." He then pointed to Asgeirr. "With an awesome dragon." He drew his finger down to the deer lying on the grass. "And with awesome hunting skills. That's just the one he didn't eat. We actually got three this afternoon."
They all looked at the dead deer on the ground before the Nightmare. Its neck was obviously broken and it had no other noticeable injuries. Ruffnut turned a sly expression toward Snotlout. "'We' got three?"
The teenaged boy turned wary. "Yeah. We."
She pointed toward the carcass in the grass. "Old Smokey got that one, eh?"
Snotlout knew the game and tried his best to avoid it. He waved a dismissive hand toward the deer and muttered, "Uh huh." He turned his attention, and his most charming smile, toward Astrid while doing his best to ignore the reek of the skin draped across the log. "So Astrid, what are you doing tonight?"
"Washing," she replied briskly. She returned to scraping the hair off the stinking hide.
"How many did you get, Snotty?" The mocking tone Ruffnut used was amazingly similar to the one he had used with Hiccup on many occasions. He ignored her.
"Want any help?" He waggled an eyebrow at her surprised expression.
"Did you get anyyyyy?" Ruff's teasing had achieved momentum now. She was determined to get a response.
Astrid's mood was not improved by Snotlout's poor attempt at flirting. "Washing clothes," she clarified. "And yes, I could use a hand. Father's trousers always need extra scrubbing to get the sea salt out of them."
Snot blinked in dismay at having his advances turned aside so easily. "Well, I uh," he stammered.
"Maybe they were invisible deer!" Ruffnut chuckled, leaning on her pounding stick.
Flinging off the collected hair and filth from the drawknife toward Snotlout's feet, Astrid added, "Or you could do mother's linens. And the bed furs need to be washed before they get put away for the season. Take your pick." She started scraping again.
"Hey!" Ruffnut sang out in sudden glee. "Who do you think he'll be forced to marry?"
"Marry?" The young man's expression turned to complete shock.
With a grim smile and another fling of the drawknife toward Snot's boots, Astrid calmly answered, "Some ugly wench with the brains of a seagull."
The other girl chortled. "Nah, he'd like that too much. I'll bet he winds up with a flesh and blood Valkyrie who can outfight him, outhunt him and can drink him under the table any night of the week!"
He was clearly baffled by this turn of the conversation. While he struggled to find a way to respond, Astrid muttered loudly, "That does sound perfect for him, doesn't it?"
Conversation abruptly stopped and four sets of eyes looked up as another pair of wings could be heard approaching. Astrid's mood lifted a moment as she recognized the outline of Berk's only Night Fury against the early evening sun. She watched as the black dragon smoothly circled the small clearing by Kabbi's house. When Toothless had come down low enough to make his landing he did so with his usual diving drop, flicking his tail in an arc and lowering his front legs to land like a cat jumping down from a table.
She blinked uncertainly after the Fury had touched down. As they landed, for an instant, it looked like part of Toothless' flying rig had come undone, separating near his hind legs. At least one line and maybe two went curling away from wherever they had been attached to dangle from a spot just under the base of the dragon's tail. Neither dragon nor rider seemed concerned, however. She made a mental note to mention it before they took off again, just in case it was something they hadn't noticed.
Hiccup's landing changed the mood around the tanner's work area. Ruffnut looked interested, as though something she'd been enjoying was about to get better. Snotlout seemed to have been caught somewhere between annoyance and relief. Astrid was glad to see him but was worried she might not get a chance to talk to him alone. She was also uncertain there was anything she could say to him, considering what Ruff had just told her.
The chief's son dismounted with a well practiced roll of his hips and a lifting of his prosthetic to avoid dragging the metal limb against Toothless' side. He landed solidly and came toward them, spying a stone in his path in time to adjust his stride and avoid it. As he approached them Toothless moved closer to Asgeirr and touched noses with the larger dragon. They growled quietly to each other a moment before the Fury settled in the grass.
To Astrid's eyes Hiccup looked as uncertain as she felt. His eyes had met each of theirs in turn, but only briefly. Oddly, his expression seemed much more like it had always been before he'd tamed his dragon; to each of them he seemed to respond with varying levels of subdued nervousness.
His mouth drew down as he got close enough to get the full effect of their efforts and the foul fluids in which they worked. He squinted and turned his head fruitlessly as he quietly greeted them with, "Hey guys."
Ruffnut's casual, "Hiccup" came the same instant as Snotlout's tense, "Hey." Astrid deliberately put a measure of warmth in her voice as she followed with, "Hello Hiccup."
Berk's reluctant hero waved a hand at the evidence surrounding them. "I was going to ask how you're doing but I think I can guess."
"Heh, yeah." Astrid's response seemed to jump from her mouth without her permission. She noticed the meaningful look Ruff was giving her as well as the disapproval evident in Lout's eyes. She decided she didn't care and even added, "Out for an evening flight?"
"Uh," he hesitated, looking back at Toothless. He seemed to want some input from that quarter but the dragon just stared back, ear fins up and pupils wide. "Practice, actually," he finally answered.
"Practice?" Clearly Snotlout found that hard to believe. "Practice what? Herding sheep from the air?"
Toothless uttered a warbling growl, loud enough for them to all hear. The large yellowish green eyes watched them. Astrid thought it strange that Hiccup once again stared at his dragon a moment, as though considering something. Even stranger was the curious look Asgeirr gave the Fury, as though it too was puzzled by the outburst.
"No, flying." Hiccup didn't respond to Lout's gibe. "I made some changes to the control rig." He turned his eyes to the ground, another habit the old Hiccup used to have. "I want to be sure its safe before we rely on it."
To her relief Snotlout decided he'd had enough. "Sounds exciting," he drawled, "but I need to get my deer home and I gotta find Jaspin. I haven't tagged him in two days."
Before he could turn away Astrid remembered something she'd heard in the great hall only days before. "What are you doing with him?"
He looked genuinely confused. "Training, of course."
"By threatening his dragon?"
The gaze of three Vikings and two dragons suddenly rested firmly on him, yet he seemed unconcerned. He made a dismissive noise. "Not for real. That was just to get his attention, get him focused. He needed something to motivate him. I gave it to him. He's swinging steel like he means it now."
He started walking back to his Monstrous Nightmare with a casual, "You kids have fun," thrown over his shoulder. He mounted up and once Asgeirr had snatched up their deer, the two of them were aloft and quickly gone.
Ruff apparently sensed the sudden change between them all and looked at the vat she stood over, the pounding stick slanting out of the dark fluids. "Ech," she groused. "I've had enough of this." She batted at the stick and began walking off toward the village. "Talk to you later," she told them both. Astrid didn't bother telling her she hadn't worked her deer pelt nearly long enough to do a proper job. It wouldn't be the first time the lanky girl had ruined a piece of leather with poor workmanship.
As she passed Astrid she said quietly, "Remember what I said." Then she stopped for a moment. She cast a glance back at Hiccup before she turned her sly eyes toward her again. "Break it to him gentle."
As she walked off, Hiccup turned toward her with a look of bewilderment. "What was that? Break what?"
Astrid shook her head. "Nothing." She made the last few passes with her drawknife to remove the worst of the hair from the deer hide. "So how did your practice go?"
"Good," he answered quietly. "We didn't kill ourselves."
She was starting to get worried. He looked and sounded too much like 'Hiccup before', like he'd never tamed a dragon or saved the whole village from a monster. Before she could say anything he asked, "Is Kabbi around?"
Shaking her head she said, "No, he's off on bucket detail." Another distasteful aspect of being a tanner was having to collect the sheep brains and animal dung that Ruffnut had mentioned earlier. When she'd asked Kabbi at the beginning of her training how anyone had ever come up with the idea of making the curing concoction out of such revolting ingredients, he'd frowned and replied, "I don't know, but I curse 'em every day."
"Ah," was his quiet response. He bit at his upper lip a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Uh, Astrid, I need to talk to you."
She paused in the act of removing her deer hide from the skinning log. Through all of last winter he'd mostly found reasons not to talk to her. She'd come to understand that he was dealing with several things to which he was entirely unaccustomed: a level of respect and acceptance from his fellow villagers, the public attentions of other dragon riders and a certain amount of appreciation for the new work he was doing in Gobber's forge.
His nervous approach now, however, was not likely connected to any of those things. So she had to wonder what he wanted to say and why he'd chosen now to say it. The only thing that came immediately to mind was what Ruffnut had just mentioned. And she didn't know if she was ready to discuss that herself. There was an understandable amount of reservation in her voice when she asked, "About what?"
He met her eyes momentarily before turning his gaze once again to Toothless. He seemed to draw some strength or determination from the Fury's presence. "I... I've learned something. It's about..." Once again his gaze dropped to the ground before him. It was starting to bother her when she could so easily remember the change that had come over him last autumn.
"About-," she prompted him.
Give the boy credit, he did at least look her in the eyes again when he finally said, "About dragons."
She sighed, exasperated. It was ridiculous. Why would he be all worked up about dragons now?
Then her own silent question struck her. Why would he be worked up about dragons now? Judging by his behavior what he'd learned was uncomfortably significant. And considering the last time he had 'learned about dragons' he had changed the whole way of Viking life, the importance of him making another discovery about their reptilian companions could be just as momentous.
But for good or bad?
Hiccup's demeanor did not encourage optimism. She felt her stomach tighten up again, as it had with Ruff's news.
"What is it, Hiccup?" The dread was obvious in her voice.
"They're..." He suddenly looked anguished, as though he was uncertain of the wisdom of speaking the words that wanted out of him so badly. "They're not..."
Toothless gave them both a mild start by moving up behind his rider. The sleek black body that so dwarfed Hiccup's moved with astonishing stealth when the dragon wanted to. Hiccup looked up at his best friend, a distraught expression painfully plain on his face. The Fury stood beside him, his head at a level with Hiccup's eyes, and gazed placidly at him. The faintest crooning could be heard coming from the deep, powerful chest. The large yellowish-green eyes blinked slowly, once and twice. Toothless leaned his snout a bit closer and brushed the top of the boy's head with the tip of his nose. The dragon then leaned back, sat down and crooned again.
Hiccup's expression cleared. Taking whatever strength he'd needed from the dark dragon, he turned once more to Astrid. "They're not what we think they are."
She didn't really know what to say. Could he express himself no better than that? She remembered something, a time and an event she would never forget as long as she lived.
"You said that once before, you know."
He blinked, apparently not getting the response he'd expected. Then he, too, remembered. "Yes, I know." He looked up at Toothless once more, but only briefly. "But we're still wrong. We still don't understand them, not really. I've..." Again that hesitation. "I've learned how to talk to Toothless. Dragons... can talk."
Ruffnut's claim of speaking to her dragon came rushing back to her and her first impulse was to slap Hiccup. Somehow that twisted twin had coaxed him into perpetuating the 'talking to dragons' joke. She restrained herself from long habit. She'd grown up often wanting to smack the junior Haddock for being a general nuisance.
Then she realized he was completely serious and once again she didn't know what to say. Worse, Hiccup just stared, apparently unprepared for her lack of response.
A new thought came to her, one that made her very uncomfortable. Hiccup was trying to change things again, and the last change he'd caused was going to force her to leave her home and family. He was directly responsible for what Ruffnut had just told her. She knew it certainly hadn't been his intention, but that was the biggest complaint most people in Berk had about him. The results of his actions were almost never the ones anyone wanted, Hiccup included. She was annoyed at how quickly the old anger rose up in her. She kept it in check but couldn't keep it from coloring her tone.
"Hiccup, why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
Astrid flung an impatient gesture toward Toothless. "Acting like there's a problem with the dragons."
"What do you mean 'acting'? There is a problem with the dragons."
She had to admit, he sounded convinced of whatever it was he was trying to tell her. But it still stank almost as much as her newly cleaned deer skin.
"Isn't it enough that you changed the whole village? The whole world?" Thoughts of being dragged off to discover that world beyond Berk as an unwilling bride stirred more anger in her heart. The sarcasm leaped from her tongue, worthy of Hiccup himself. "You fixed everything. Can't you just let it be now?"
Hiccup sputtered for a moment. "Nothing's fixed," he finally replied. "Everything's still broken. And I'm afraid it's going to get worse."
Worse? Did he already know what Ruffnut had told her? Did he fear being matched up with someone he could never love? Did he dread the idea of a marriage that would seem like a punishment?
So why in Odin's name hadn't he come to her sooner, said something?
Did he even have anything to say to her? The hard, dull ache in her middle suddenly grew cold and sharp, like a sword of ice piercing her. She drew a large breath, opened her mouth and surprised herself with what came out.
"Well, I'm sure you can figure it out. You're the smartest Viking in Berk." She gestured once again toward the Night Fury. "You've got the smartest dragon in existence. Between the two of you..." She ran out of words, just completely ran out.
With a careless toss she slung her deer hide over a drying rack. It landed crooked and no doubt Kabbi would berate her for leaving it to form annoying wrinkles. At that moment she simply didn't care.
She headed back toward the village, wishing desperately Folkvardr was there so she could go that much faster. She managed no more than two steps.
"Astrid!"
Now he finds his voice, she fumed to herself, although there was entirely too much desperation in it for her taste. She stopped.
He moved, taking a somewhat clumsy sidestep that his iron leg didn't encourage. He raised a hand toward her as though he might touch her. She truly didn't know how she felt about that.
"Didn't you hear what I said?"
She'd heard far more than she wanted, as far as she was concerned. "I heard everything you said."
That was obviously not the answer he wanted. He pressed his point.
"Astrid, I can talk to Toothless." He seemed to reconsider that statement and tried again. "All dragons can talk." Now he seemed to be frustrating himself. He tried once more. "Astrid, dragons are people!"
She was entirely unprepared for the rush of contradictory emotions that coursed through her at those words. It was obvious Hiccup was projecting his desires onto the dragons he'd risked his life to liberate. The Night Fury, being the most intelligent version of the species, no doubt gave him reason to make such a statement. She could even see the appeal of the idea. Folkvardr had often surprised her in small ways with what he could do and what he seemed to understand of his rider.
But the idea was simply ludicrous. Dragons were animals, not people; dangerous flying animals with a capacity for loyalty and affection that had not been seen until recently, but animals nonetheless.
It had been a rough evening and this did not look to improve things. Astrid sighed quietly. She looked down at her hands and realized she'd not cleaned them. She went to the water trough Kabbi kept for general cleaning. Next to it was a bucket of fine sand. She wet her hands and arms and scooped sand over them to scrub the filth from her skin.
"Astrid?" Quietly, worriedly.
She rinsed the sand off and stood, facing him. His expression was hard to take. This was obviously important to him, but she was in no shape to argue with him. She lifted her dripping hands a moment in resignation. "I'm sorry." She turned once more and began the walk home.
"Astrid!" Desperation again. Maybe fear. She had always hated that tone in his voice. She kept walking. "I can prove it!"
It was too much. Memories rose up, one after another; failed experiments, too many to count, that damaged houses or nearly caused significant injuries; the apologies, the promises to do better, to be more like a real Viking; the dragon training and his unfathomable successes; his effortless actions and seemingly unintended victories.
She remembered his sudden exposure and the unbelievable evidence that he'd discovered about their perpetual enemies. She recalled the truly amazing change that had given her hope that he would no longer be the bane of Berk's existence.
But then came the quick slide back to hesitant speech, shy glances and infuriating silences.
And now this. He wanted to push an idea that dragons were something they obviously couldn't be. What possible reason could he have for wanting to behave like this? What did he stand to gain? And why now, when she'd just learned her whole world was likely to be taken apart and reformed in ways she would probably hate? Why heap this nonsense on her now?
The anger coiled within her like a living thing. It was a familiar feeling, one she now hated. Disgust and anger at Hiccup was supposed to be a thing of the past, and here he was rekindling it with foolish notions that would appeal to both of them.
Gritting her teeth, she turned to him. She could only guess at the look she wore but Hiccup's reaction said it was full of dire warning. She tried to frame a sentence, a few words. All she could manage was to stab a finger in his direction and breathe his name with strained fury.
"I mean it. We can show you." He turned to his dragon.
"Stop it!" The words were an enraged shriek yet she could hear the dismay in them. "You keep tearing everything apart! Nothing's ever good enough for you, you have to keep changing everything! Why can't you just..."
She was shocked to realize the words 'disappear' and 'be normal' were flickering among her thoughts. Worse, the words 'die' and 'love me' were woven in among them as well. Her emotions were becoming dangerously out of control. If she didn't leave now she didn't know what she might do. She turned away and walked as fast as she could. He stopped her again when she was certain nothing in the world could keep her there.
"Look, if you don't believe me, ask Folkvardr!"
That was just utterly unfair. To bring her dragon into this childish argument about animals being people was the only thing left that could keep her there and he used it. He reached right in to the center of her heart, found the one spark of joy that came from outside herself and latched onto it, trying to change it, to force it into something she couldn't handle or understand.
She was starting to think she might hate Hiccup for the rest of her life.
"Please Astrid!" He was relentless. "I had to come to you. You were the only one who would listen the first time, the only one who knew besides me. You believed in me when no one else possibly could." Each sentence got quieter. She began to understand he wasn't doing what she'd thought he was. "I would have failed without you. I needed... I needed you to believe in me and you did. I had to help the dragons but I couldn't do it alone."
She wavered as it sank in. It was happening again. Hiccup was going to change the world once more. He'd had no choice the last time he'd confided in her, and she hadn't wanted his confidence at the start. But she'd come to see he was right. Now he seemed to believe they were at the same point again. And she had no idea where it would go this time, where it would end. Dragons were people? Could it really be true?
"Please." Hollow, a tired, worried voice that begged for help. Her wrath cooled as quickly as it had built. "It's important, really important."
It was so overwhelming. She tried to say something, managed only, "I don't-"
"He's a person. He has a language." He looked up at the Fury. "I can't speak it, but we found a way to write it. He can talk to me with writing. He scratches symbols in the dirt." He looked back to her. "That's something people do, isn't it? People can write."
She couldn't walk away. He'd been right, last autumn. He'd given her an amazing new friend. He'd given her a new life, a chance to be the guardian she'd wanted to be.
Then he asked a question that tugged at her heart so hard she could feel it rise in her throat.
"Won't you at least give Folkvardr a chance to talk to you?"
Late the next morning, Two Hearts was dozing on his favorite rock, a few lengths from the shore. He was newly washed, the dust and dirt of many days spent on the ground left behind in the cool waves. He was also tired; after washing he had spent much time flying in that same water to exercise his wings. It had been Featherstone's suggestion that when he couldn't fly and he wanted to stretch his wings that he take to the ocean and treat it as the heaviest of air. His rider taught him the trick of slowly exhaling while under the surface to keep water from entering his nose, and it had worked. He'd also come to greatly enjoy it. The idea of being able to hunt roundbacks in their own home had seemed exciting but he quickly found he was far too large and slow to catch them.
The sun was drying him well and he'd napped lightly, once or twice opening his eyes to slits as a gull would screech at him. He opened them once more as a thick shadow passed over him. A two-throated growl, brusque yet respectful, came to him. He barked a short response.
Once the splitneck had settled and folded its wide wings it took a moment to examine its surroundings. Two Hearts waited, knowing splitnecks were not Kin to be rushed. The two minds within its separate heads had to decide which would speak first and what each would say. Conversations with them were often difficult.
"We greet First Hunter," said the female head, distinguishable by the slightly rounder curve of the horn on its snout. The bulbous head on the end of the sinuous neck bobbed a few times, after which the male head added, "We are Cloudbiter. We seek him."
"I greet you, Cloudbiter. What is it you need of me?"
It was silent several moments. It seemed agitated and scented slightly of fear. He felt his liver chill just a bit.
"We see, we speak," said the female.
"Stonebelly. Much curiosity. Much fear," came from the male.
"Questions. Confusion. Fear." The female again. The splitneck was obviously bothered by something. It was having far more trouble than normal speaking. The clipped speech was the way they spoke when they suffered inner turmoil.
"What was the stonebelly's name?"
Another long wait as it tried to answer.
"There was no name. There was only fear." The other head added, "Warning."
The chill in his liver grew. "What warning?"
"Flee," said both sides in unison. The female continued. "It said Kin must flee."
"Why?" Now he was starting to sound as abrupt as the splitneck.
"It saw."
"Saw what?"
"Fear," said the male. "It fled," said the female.
This was not helping. "What did the stonebelly say it saw?"
"Something large," said the female. "Something hungry," said the male. Then in unison they said, "Something dead."
(c)Wirewolf 2012
"How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright
Dreamworks Animation and used without permission
AN: This took longer than I expected, mostly because it didn't end up the way I expected even though I had it thoroughly planned out. But plans change and I just ran with it.
At this point, however, I have some serious work to do on the overall arc of the third act. I have to get things nailed down better than they currently are. I don't even know what the next chapter is going to focus on yet. So hold on, folks. It may take a while for the next update but I promise I will do my very best to make it worth your while.
Thanks for reading, everyone!