Broken

by Athenaeum

Six months after defeating the Red Death, Hiccup feels there are still many problems between Vikings and dragons as well as many unanswered questions. Some answers will bring far bigger problems.

44. A Song of Black Air

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Broken

Chapter 43: A song of black air

There were stones in Stoick's gut. They were hard and sharp and they weighed him down almost to the limit of his strength. They pressed on his lungs and kept him from getting a full breath.

Life was hard; he knew this. He'd lost his wife, nearly lost his son. This, however, seemed beyond unfair.

He didn't know what he'd have done without Gobber. The smith had helped him keep his sanity when Val was killed; he'd stepped in and kept Hiccup's injury from becoming fatal. This time Gobber tore the hem off his own tunic and wrapped it around the boy's head, though he needed Stoick's help for the task. Once bandaged, Gobber looked around and stated in a flat, matter-of-fact voice, "Right. So how do we get him down to Freygerd?"

With a fairly mundane problem to tackle, Stoick felt his mind pull away from the pointless worry about his son's burned eyes. He looked around, saw his fellow riders and their companions staying close. Several were keeping a wary eye on the other dragons around the top of the nest. None of the residents, healthy or injured, seemed inclined to violence anymore. Still, having survived the conflict that left all of them hurting, they didn't feel entirely safe without keeping them in their sights.

"I don't think climbing down is going to work for most of us. That really only leaves us the same way we came up. Once they've rested, anyway." He glanced at Thorithr, squatting on the ground with her wings still drooping a bit. Turning his attention to Toothless, he saw the Fury was tending his son as best he could. The point of his broad snout was gently wedged between Hiccup's neck and shoulder and he crooned continuously. Occasionally his jaws would shift slightly and his tongue would press lightly against the exposed skin. Hiccup kept murmuring reassurance to his friend.

Stoick turned his gaze from his son, still unable to take in the possibility of Hiccup's injury. He saw Gobber staring out to sea in the direction the Red Death had fled. The smith pointed out at the empty waters.

"What happened, anyway? Why'd they turn on it?"

With a shake of his head, the chief muttered, "I'm not really sure. I saw a Zippleback drop something on it, then it started chattering at the others."

Gobber considered that a moment. "So... was Anvindr part of the problem? Did he..." The blonde shrugged, not able to frame his question to his liking. "Could he have... I dunno... caused any of this?"

"He told me he was training it." Hiccup's voice wasn't very strong, but it was steady.

Stoick winced and shook his head. "I wouldn't take his word for it, son."

"He said he was feeding it. It let him ride on its shoulders." There was a tremor in his words, as if the idea was causing him pain.

Toothless made a noise, a short, simple grunt. Pulling his nose back from Hiccup's neck, he made it again. Then he made two more noises.

Hiccup's hand reached up, found the Fury's chin and rubbed gently. "Then how did he get there? What was he even doing here?"

The black dragon opened his mouth as if to say something else. But he made no sound. He only closed it again and pushed his nose back to Hiccup's neck, groaning softly.

"None of this needed to happen," Hiccup whispered. "If he would have just listened..."

Stoick and Gobber exchanged a worried look. "Hiccup, you weren't the first to try to change his mind. And you weren't the first to fail at it, either."

Hiccup said nothing more and the Night Fury's groans were becoming increasingly mournful. Gobber stepped close enough to lay his good hand on the side of Toothless' head. "You feel fit enough to take him down to Freygerd? I'm sure she's got some medicine that can do him some good."

Toothless looked up at Gobber, his eyes wide. Then he rolled onto his side, away from Hiccup. He reached down his belly with a forepaw and grabbed at some part of his flying rig while growling imperatively.

"Ehhhhh..." Gobber had no idea what the dragon was up to. At least not until Toothless gripped one of his controller sticks with his hind paw and twisted it. The lines were still resisting him and the smith immediately noted the source of the problem. "Oh, I see. One of the guides got crimped. You just need to..." He patted his waist, looking for something and not finding it. "Stoick, lend me your knife? I think I lost mine down in that cave."

The chief passed his over and Gobber used the tip of the blade to force the guide back open. That released the tension on the controller line and the artificial tail began to move and flex the way it was meant to. Toothless was heartened and bumped the man's hip with his shoulder, giving a loud purr for emphasis. The Fury moved back to Hiccup and gently spoke a single word to him.

Hiccup hesitated but eventually said, "Yeah, I guess I'm ready. Are you good? Any problems?" The dragon answered with another word. "OK." He started to sit up but hissed and flinched.

"Hiccup?"

"Toothless asked if I wanted to fly down. Can you help me get on?"

It wasn't easy for Stoick to stop himself from intervening when his boy wanted to fly blind on a dragon with an artificial tail. Toothless was essentially answering Gobber's question about how to get Hiccup down to Freygerd. The boy's burns were tender and the scorching of his clothes had weakened them a bit. They heard threads popping and saw a few rents opening up. By the time they had him on the saddle he was breathing hard. His voice was rough when he asked if they could find his leg for him. He didn't want to have to limp around any longer than necessary.

Toothless walked slowly to the sloping edge of the nest. He took to the air with an easy grace that Stoick could now admire, doing his best not to jostle his passenger.

Turning back to the others, Stoick saw everyone but Spitelout. Mord was standing next to his purple Nadder and looking tired but satisfied. Astrid and Snotlout were also standing next to their dragons, although the Hofferson girl looked like she was using Folkvardr for support because of her leg. Both teens had their backs to Stoick, watching the dragons of the nest. He looked beyond them and saw what had captured their attention so thoroughly.

The dragons were tending to their own. Beyond the dozen or so that had been injured or killed during the first round of fighting, there were additional casualties that had been in flight too close to the Red Death when it fired at them. Some few had been killed by the fall while the rest were dealing with the loss of their wing webbing as well as other wounds. The sight wasn't familiar to them. There were no sword cuts, no hammer strikes or axe blows. There was a great deal of blood, though. And a lot of quiet support.

Each wounded dragon had at least two others near it, helping it move away to... someplace more comfortable, Stoick supposed. His attention was caught by a brown and green Gronckle moving away from the battlefield. Its wings were held up and away from its body, displaying the horrible wounds that would keep it on the ground for the rest of its life. It also limped on one of its hind legs. Another Gronckle and a battered looking Nadder walked along with it, one on each side to help support it as it moved away.

Stoick was reminded of the Nightmare being carried away on the back of the twin's Zippleback. Every wounded dragon was being looked to. Other dragons gathered around the deceased, staring with their heads lowered. Stoick thought he could hear low, breathy groans coming from the mourners.

Snotlout turned a slow circle until he met his uncle's eyes. "So... a downed dragon... was only a dead dragon... on Berk." His expression was as hollow as his voice.

He had no answer for that. Asgeirr did, though. His Nightmare carefully nudged his shoulder with his snout, meeting his eyes with calm deliberation. Snotlout looked up at his companion, his posture showing none of the bravado or energy he usually carried. One hand lifted hesitantly, to be met with the dragon's nose. Snotlout rubbed the fine scales around his friend's large nostrils. Then his arms were suddenly wrapped around the elongated head and his cheek was pressed hard against the short forehorn.

Stoick looked away, only to find Astrid talking quietly to Folkvardr as she leaned against him. He turned away yet again to find himself facing Thorithr. She had stood and moved close to him when his attention was elsewhere. His hands sought her lower jaw, the soft, pliant scales of her jowls. He wanted to say something but had no words for what was in his heart. He could only express himself the same way Snotlout had, with his forehead pressed to her forehorn.

"Stoick."

He twisted his head to see his brother standing nearby, his Gronckle with him. The dragon had a somewhat distressed look on its wide face. For a moment, he wondered when he'd gotten so good at reading their expressions. Then Spitelout held up his hand.

"What is that?"

It looked like what might have once been a sword after being pulled from the ashes of a burned house. Stoick has seen such damaged weapons a time or two. But this one had been too close to something else, something heavier.

"I found it over by the cave." His brother pointed back over his shoulder. "I think its Hiccup's leg. I'm guessing this is Anvindr's sword melted to it."

Stoick's brow furrowed. "How the..." He couldn't imagine how those two items could have been fused together, not until he recalled the scorching bolt of dragon fire that had wiped the sword's owner from existence. He hadn't witnessed those last moments directly; Hiccup had fallen and was out of sight with Anvindr standing over him, sword raised.

He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to imagine how close events had come to complete disaster.

"This isn't all," Spite said softly.

Not all? Stoick wasn't sure he wanted to know what else his brother had found.

Spitelout waited until they'd seen Astrid, Fishlegs, Mord and his son head off toward the beach below. Then he led Stoick back to a faint mark on the ground just inside the mouth of the cave. "I think this is what Einarr was talking about."

There was a slightly darker splotch of color on the rocks, strangely shaped. Stoick shook his head, not understanding. Not until his brother took his shoulders and moved him around the mark. Seeing it from a different angle didn't help either. Then Spitelout knelt down and held his hand over it, fingers splayed.

"It was the color that caught my attention first."

"Old blood," Stoick whispered.

Spitelout nodded. "Then I realized the shape." A hand, silhouetted in blood. "Why would there be such a mark, here of all places. Unless..."

"Jaspin," he moaned.

"Aye." Spitelout dropped his hand. "It's too small for an adult's hand, so..."

"But, how-" Stoick turned, staring at the empty cave. He remembered being told, by Hiccup and Toothless. They'd found Bitequick here, crushed to death. His eyes scanned the gloomy interior.

Pushed up against the wall on one side was something that looked suspiciously like half a dead Gronckle. And lying against the other side, barely able to catch the dim light with its colorful scales was another dead dragon. A Nadder, its body so obviously distorted that the cause of its death was beyond doubt.

"Poor lad never knew what he was walking into." Spitelout looked at him curiously. "What?"

There was a moment of hesitation as an unpleasant thought was considered. "Anvindr was here, too. I'm guessing. He'd been gone a few days when we heard of Jaspin."

It honestly didn't connect in his head until the image of a sword being held to Hiccup's neck came back to him. Stoick frowned. "But that makes no sense. Why would he..."

Spitelout shrugged. "Like I said, I'm just guessing. Maybe it happened when Bitequick got hit. The boy might have been on her at the time."

That seemed to make more sense. But it was still hard to understand how such a mark could come to be there. He gazed around the black confines, the lingering scent of death and dragon fire too strong to ignore. There was one thing Stoick knew for sure. "Red Deaths are bad business, all around."

---

Freygerd was feeling rather good with the situation as it stood. Ruffnut and Hogknee were both asleep. Their broken limbs were splinted as well as could be managed with scraps of rope and lumber from the wrecked ships littering the beach. Stonetoss had finally stopped moaning about his stomach. She had to bite her lip when he spat out the small stones and the pulpy mess of seaweed she'd given him earlier, only to wrap the stones in fresh seaweed and stuff them back in his mouth. If her false remedy was doing him some good, there was nothing to be gained by laughing at him for using it.

There had been some tense moments when she heard what sounded like new fighting at the top of the mountain. When a huge shadow covered her, she looked up to see a dragon whose size she'd only heard described. It was headed away from the mountain surrounded by hordes of smaller dragons, like a massive eagle being mobbed by kestrels. She'd looked on in amazement as it was driven well out to sea before it finally plummeted to the water. With a slow shake of her head, she'd sat herself before the fire to await the next casualties.

Dragons arrived first. Not the dragons they'd trained with, but those of the island. They came winging down to the beach at the new opening. They landed among the broken bodies of their fellows. Freygerd watched, hardly daring to breathe as the lost were mourned. Each body had several attendants. Some of them were approached by dragons of the same species, others were not. Many of the mourners were injured, as well.

Unwilling to move for fear of disturbing the scene, she stared intently as the living dragons lowered their heads over the fallen. Soon they could all hear a low, wavering hum. It was eerie, seeing them move so slowly, so carefully around their dead. The dragons standing near each body slowly stepped around it in a circle. As each mourner reached the victim's head, they would stop and touch noses with them. This continued until each dragon had said their goodbyes, all while softly humming their lament.

Finally, the mourners arranged themselves around each body and took hold of it. Head, wings and tail were gripped in careful claws. The living took the dead to the skies one last time, working hard to avoid striking each other's wings. When it was over, every body had been taken up to the top of the nest. Even the ravaged Timberjack was given its due respect as it was brought to the peak of the mountain.

Freygerd's hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide as she watched the last of them rising up. Nothing like that had ever happened to the dead dragons of Berk. What would Hoskuld Ulunda have made of it, had he seen it? Could he have believed that the demons from the sky were capable of feeling grief over their lost? What could Berk have been, if he had?

Such questions were seldom useful in day to day living. Freygerd shook her head sadly and sat back down to wait.

Hiccup arrived next, clinging to the back of his singular dragon and obviously a victim of a close encounter with dragon fire of some kind. The symptoms reminded her of others she'd treated who'd been too close to Nadder fire. When she asked about the rag tied around his eyes, she was alarmed to hear him say he couldn't see anything. But her common sense took over quickly as she went to work on him.

She instructed Stonetoss to help the young man move close to the fire, not bothering to ask where his false leg had gone. After shooing Kelda out of the way she asked Eyvind to pour the rest of the medicine brewing in her bowl off into a cup. She would need to make up something special for Hiccup, she was certain. Getting him settled on his back, she turned to bump directly into the snout of the Night Fury hovering near his friend. She calmly put a palm against the tip of his nose and pressed lightly. "Room, please. When I'm done you can snuggle him all you want." She moved off to find her bag of supplies without even noticing the black dragon silently backing up a few steps.

All eyes were on her as she came tottering back, dropping her bag near Hiccup's head. With some difficulty she knelt next to him and peered closely at his face. She hummed as she carefully removed the bandage from his head. "Open your eyes, please." He groaned as he did. She leaned close again and then slowly waved her hand over his face. Humming a lighter note, she asked, "What do you see?"

"I can't see anything!" Beside her, Toothless moaned.

She frowned. "Color, boy. What color do you see?"

Hiccup hesitated a moment. "Uhh, grey and white, blurry, nothing else."

Freygerd smiled. "Close your eyes." When he did as she asked, she followed with, "Now what color?"

"Um, black."

"Ha! Thought so. Eyvind! Fill that bowl half full with water from that jug I brought." She went rummaging through her bag. "You'll be fine, Hiccup. Your eyes are burned. Burns heal just like anything else." She noticed movement close by and saw a large, dark snout hovering over the young man's face. A flash of dark red prompted her to wave her hand at Toothless. "Hey, no licking!" Two large, expressive eyes met hers and she felt her heart soften. "Calm yourself. He'll be fine in a few days. A week at most."

"I'll... I'll get my sight back?"

Freygerd chuckled. "You've got it now. Can't see color without working eyes, now can you?" Toothless and Hiccup both seemed to relax at the same time. She pulled a few small pouches from her bag. "At best, you'll be back to normal after they heal. At worst, your sight might not be as clear or sharp as it used to be."

Hiccup sighed and the Night Fury laid his head on his forepaws to watch her work.

She had just set her new concoction over the fire to heat when several dragons landed nearby, carrying wounded riders. The dragons were also marked by the battle they'd all survived. She saw burned skin, cut wings, bruises and punctures everywhere. "Odin's hairy... Eyvind! Osvald!" Glancing around for anyone else available, she spotted the woman she'd pushed away only moments before. "Kelda! Get over here! We need hands to help the wounded!"

There was a strange tension between the groups; those who dismounted and those who met them had come to the island for different reasons and had little common ground at that moment. The natural imperative of helping the injured after a raid, an impulse practically bred into Berk's villagers, allowed them to ignore any source of friction while wounds were treated.

When Freygerd saw the large, raw wound on Astrid's leg she immediately set Ingifast to watching the new medicinal brew to cook and gave him brief instructions on how to apply it. She frowned over the girl's wound and muttered something about infection. She went back to her bag of supplies and set to work.

Stonetoss watched all this quietly. He'd never considered himself a friend of the dragons. He saw no reason to trust them. To him, they were barely domesticated animals that could easily turn on their owners and kill them with little effort. The scene on the beach had a strange, dream-like quality to it. He, like Freygerd, had watched in amazement as a swarm of dragons drove off a smaller version of the Red Death they'd fought here the year before. Those who distrusted dragons often asked why the beasts hadn't gotten rid of their Queen Dragon if it was such a bad thing for them. No one had a good answer and it seemed to enforce the idea that getting rid of the last one hadn't really changed anything.

Now Stonetoss had seen smaller dragons do exactly what he'd held up as a reason not to trust them. They had banded together and driven it off. The dragons now arrayed on the beach before him were quietly suffering wounds he suspected they'd received while helping push the new Death out of the nest. Riders were tending their dragons. Dragons were tending their riders. This played out right next to the same thing happening between the few villagers who were caring for members of their own tribe.

The similarity was inescapable to Stonetoss' eyes. He began to wonder why he'd never seen this before. One particular scene caught his attention and he moved closer, curiosity pushing him in spite of his previous reservations. Fishlegs Ingerman was fretting over his Gronckle's many Nadder spike wounds. While Thunderguts seemed relatively unconcerned about the dozen or so barbs lodged in her side, Fishlegs was looking around frantically for something to use to help his dragon. The young cooper saw Stonetoss standing nearby and said, "I need something to plug all these holes. I don't know how much blood she's lost or how much more she can afford to lose."

Stonetoss glanced at the many colorful projections bristling from the tough hide. He leaned a little closer and squinted. Each spine left a small trail of dried blood below. He reached into his mouth and drew out the stones wrapped in seaweed. Holding one near the closest spine, he saw it was about the right size.

Fishlegs gave a short gasp. "That's brilliant!" He carefully grasped the spike with his calloused hand and twisted it out. Stonetoss pushed the seaweed covered pebble into the hole. It was a bit too small so he tried the second one. What little blood had come from the wound was easily staunched. Thrilled to have a solution, Fishlegs thanked him and started collecting stones and seaweed to finish the job. Stonetoss stayed with him and helped, feeling as though it was a better use of his time than just feeding driftwood to Freygerd's fire.

It was late afternoon by the time Freygerd realized the rest of their party had returned to the beach. Stoick hovered around Hiccup as closely as the Night Fury. He looked up at the elder and took a moment to focus his thoughts.

"What's the cost?"

"Nothing major so far." She pointed to Astrid who was lying close to Hogknee and Ruffnut. "I'm worried about her leg, though. It's not a crippling wound but it's large enough that keeping out infection will be almost impossible."

Toothless' head came up. Freygerd noticed and realized the black dragon was looking directly at her. "You've a notion?" The Fury regarded Astrid a moment before getting up and approaching. He sniffed at the bandages and then gently touched them with the talons of one paw. Freygerd got the hint and removed them, going slow where they stuck to her flesh a bit. Toothless then sniffed the exposed wound, noticing the large patches of missing skin and slowly bleeding flesh. He opened his mouth as if he intended to lick her. His bright red tongue and splotchy gums were easily seen. He seemed to reconsider when Astrid gasped.

Everyone involved watched in silence as Toothless grunted to Folkvardr. The Nadder was settled close by but was intently preening his wounded wings. With a low chirp, the Nadder answered the Fury. There was a grunted conversation between the two. Folk rose and moved closer, inspecting his rider's wound for himself. He chittered to Toothless.

When both dragons looked to Astrid, it became obvious they were asking for permission for something they intended to do. The young woman grimaced slightly. "Yeah. Go ahead." She became more than a little nervous when the Fury settled near her leg and pinned her to the ground with his forepaws, one on her knee and the other on her hip. Her eyes bulged when Folkvardr opened his mouth wide, leaned down and practically engulfed her whole thigh between his jaws.

"Wait!"

Both dragons gazed at her, puzzled by her sudden reluctance.

"You're... you're not gonna... bite it off or anything. Are you?"

Folk churred to Toothless, who grumbled back. The Nadder gave his rider a look that she couldn't interpret, then opened his mouth again to extend his tongue. The forked tip barely went past his lower jaw.

"Oh. Well." She nodded, obviously summoning up the courage she would need. "This is gonna hurt, isn't it?"

Toothless looked from the wound to Folkvardr, then to Astrid. His nod seemed quite solemn to her.

She took a deep breath and muttered, "Good. Best way to earn a scar." She thumped her head to the pebbly shore.

Folkvardr had to press his open snout all the way to the ground to get his tongue close enough to her leg. There was no question about when he licked the wounded flesh. Astrid's shriek caught everyone off guard, especially Hiccup, who couldn't see. He called her name in a frantic tone; she reassured him with a terse phrase. Two more licks earned two more pained shouts. The Nadder backed off, leaving the wound glistening with thick saliva. Toothless grunted to Freygerd, who wrapped it with some clean bandages she'd brought.

Things eventually settled enough after that for Stoick to accept a bit of the medicinal draught Freygerd had made earlier. The elder was looking thoughtful and the chief asked what was on her mind.

She looked up at him with clear eyes and an unhappy scowl. "I just realized I need to be a young woman again. Not only do I need to learn how to heal dragons, I need to learn how to heal with dragons. That's another lifetime's worth of work."

"How did you do with that Nightmare?"

The elder shrugged, looking disappointed. "Never got the chance. Before I could even ask about it, the Zippleback carrying her took off. I think they were headed toward Berk." She sighed, looking around their meager camp. "I suppose our dragons will need some tending. All they can do is lick themselves and that's not much help for wing cuts. I think needle and thread might actually help those to heal, if I can get them to allow it."

Stoick considered a moment. "Maybe what you need is an apprentice."

"Another one? At my age?"

She had a point. She'd taken on four apprentices in her lifetime and all of them were good healers. During raids they usually all had plenty of work to do.

"A different kind of apprentice, obviously. One who's already good with dragons."

Freygerd considered that. After some thought, she could see the appeal of it.

"I'll put out the word," Stoick offered.

---

Sunfall was approaching when the first Song of Departing drifted down from the top of Fire Nest. The Kin gathered on the beach with their preytooths looked up as the slow, mournful waves of sound reached them. As this was not their nest, they did not join in. They did hang their heads and raise their wings high in silent tribute to the Kin who had left. It had been some time since Two Hearts had joined such a Song. He found he did not miss it.

Once the Songs were done, bright flares of Kin fire could be seen at the Nest's peak. With so many Kin gone, there were many fires. It looked like a mouthful of stars had landed on top of the mountain.

Later, the sound of wings announced several Kin approaching. Permission to settle was asked and Two Hearts gladly answered. A few of the breeders from the far shore landed close enough to speak but not so close they might startle the preytooths nearby. Two Hearts stood but remained near Featherstone. A brightscale whose name he remembered to be Skyflank moved closer, watching the preytooths warily.

"I bring words for the First Hunter of... of his nest."

"I am Two Hearts. What are your words?" He was a little too weary to concern himself with proper tones and words.

The brightscale seemed to deflate a bit at that. "I... we have..."

He waited patiently. After such a day, few Kin found the air untroubled.

"Far Shore Nest has lost its First Hunter."

Two Hearts moaned in sympathy. "Eyeshine?" He remembered her with fondness.

"And her mate, Sunflame."

"Both?" Such a loss could be devastating to a nest. "They have eggs ready to hatch, don't they?"

Skyflank grunted an affirmative. "Their hatchlings will be taken into other nests. They will be told stories of their dam and sire's deeds at Fire Nest."

"Any others?"

"No. All carry some wounds, but only theirs grounded them."

Two Hearts huffed a soft breath. "I heard the Songs. They were well sung."

"We sang them together!" The grief twisted his tone and made his legs tremble. "Fire Nest and Far Shore."

It took a moment for Two Hearts to understand. "Together?"

"Yes." Skyflank's legs would no longer support him. His chest met the ground and a low groan came from his throat, wordless and lost. "Our two nests. We sang their Departure together."

The ghostwing was empty of words. It had never happened before, that he had heard. Such an idea had never flown. What did it mean? It felt powerful yet elusive.

"They named me First Hunter."

He meant no disrespect, but Two Hearts blurted, "So soon?"

"I... I am not ready. I don't..."

Now Two Hearts understood. "Skyflank, no Kin is truly prepared for their first flight."

The brightscale managed a more formal tone, yet his words were still weighed with desperation. "I must ask the watcher. What do we do now?"

"Do?"

"Two Hearts, we grounded a Gatherer! A Gatherer!" His wings twitched. "What do we do now?"

The sky appeared wide open to them all now. It felt like they could go anywhere, carry any weight. It felt like the stories to come would warm the livers of every Kin in every sky.

But it had felt like that after the Great Eel had been grounded. Too soon after, the skies had darkened once more.

Two Hearts had a Featherstone idea and blinked at the shock of it. For an instant his mind seemed to burn brighter than even the sun. His wings twitched and he forced himself to settle. His idea was new and practically formless. It needed nurturing and much consideration. There was strength in it, though. Teeth, claws and fire would be no match if it survived to its hatching.

He calmly, deliberately touched noses with the brightscale. "For now, we sing our Songs and rest our wings. The path is not clear, but it is most promising. I'm sure you can bear the weight."

A quiet, almost meek sound came from behind Skyflank. The brightscale stiffened slightly. "This one... he is in pain. His liver is bruised. He... he begged me..." Skyflank was uncomfortable. His voice reached its lowest pitch. "He needs your words. Will you..."

Two Hearts knew. "Crush Claw," he called. The sudden silence among both Kin and preytooths was startling. "There is nothing to fear. Come, please."

The small firescale held himself so low to the ground it was a wonder he could move. Speaking was still beyond him. He could do no more than slink around Skyflank's side and look up from where his neck pressed the stones.

Two Hearts considered his nest mate for a time. It bothered him that Crush Claw flinched when he took a step forward. He needed to be careful.

"I asked you to protect my flight mate."

The small firescale squeezed his eyes shut and gave a low moan of misery.

"I did not warn you of his power."

Crush Claw's eyes blinked open.

"It's his foreclaws. When he touches Kin, his foreclaws go right to the liver. He will speak and Kin will listen. He will ask and Kin will give."

The long, narrow head finally came off the ground a bit. "He... he wanted me to take him to Smoketail. You said the Gatherer had hurt him but he wanted to go to him. He kept asking..." His eyes shifted to where the young preytooth lay on the ground. "I thought he was brain sick at first. But he was gentle. And quiet. He kept asking." He looked at the ghostwing, his head lowering once more. "I saw Brain... I saw Iceblood there and I hoped that together they could..." He closed his eyes, unable to go on.

Two Hearts lowered his head and touched noses with Crush Claw, sharing breath. "Featherstone was wrong to ask. His desire even swayed me, for a time. I was wrong, too. Cloudbiter proved that. Gatherers enthrall, nothing can change that. Not even Gatherers." He wanted to give his nest mate a comforting lick but his tongue still hurt. Instead, he gently rubbed his snout against Crush Claw's. "You are still kin and Kin to me."

With those words, the tension melted away from the firescale's quivering wings and legs. He slowly rose until he stood normally, gratitude in his eyes.

Two Hearts wasn't certain what to think, however, when Truthseeker's male rider came closer and spoke to him.

"Hey, No Teeth. Who is this friend?"

---

Einarr was the last to return, just before sundown. He was tired and had bled from a small gash on one forearm; the result of a slip among the rocks on his way down. His unstrung bow acted as a walking stick, its metal capped end striking the rocky ground with a distinctive click to measure his stride. As he approached the group camped on the beach he made certain to keep as much distance between himself and any of the dragons as he could. He stopped, staring at them all without a word. His gaze settled on Hogknee, watching the fisherman for a long moment.

When he spoke, it was to Stoick. "Has anyone told him yet?"

"Told who what?" Spitelout, out of habit, intervened with his response. He didn't care much for the lack of respect in the huntsman's tone.

"I see." He gazed around at the group once more, an expression nearing disdain on his face. "Did anyone find Jaspin?"

Hogknee sat up, wincing as he moved his ankle too much. He looked around as well, knowing the answer without understanding the point of the question.

"No?" Einarr pointed with his straightened bow shaft toward the top of the mountain. "Did anyone look to the cave up there? Maybe see some-"

Spitelout drew a loud breath but it was Stoick's calm voice that interrupted him. "We saw. But before we leave tomorrow morning, the riders will do a thorough search of this island from the air. We're not leaving without trying our best to find him."

Einarr stared at Stoick. His eyes caught the light of the fire, giving his expression an even harder edge. "You expect to find him? Out among the rocks? The nests? Sitting on some eggs, maybe?"

Stoick's tone sharpened as he retorted, "Where else would he be?"

The huntsman lifted his bow again, to point out at the darkening waters of the ocean. "I think I'd start by looking in the belly of that bitch that drowned out there!"

"EINARR!" Freygerd's voice cracked like a whip. "What right do you have to take away this man's hope?"

"Hogknee is my friend! I want to find Jaspin almost as much as he does! But I would never coddle him with falsehoods!" Tension quickly built among them at the scathing tone and reproachful words.

"Did you see what happened? Were you there as a witness?" Stoick remained calm while even Freygerd simmered with anger.

The bow swept upward again, pointing to the top of the nest. "The stones were witness. You saw their testimony."

Hiccup was sitting up as well, one hand on Toothless' nearest forepaw. "Toothless, did any of the dragon see Jaspin here? Do they know what happened to him if he came here?"

The black dragon, half his form slowly blending into the evening's colors while the firelight gave his nearer half a flickering outline of orange and red, grunted once. He shifted slightly, making certain to keep the talons under his rider's palm still.

Two Hearts hesitantly posed the question to the few Kin that had stayed with the preytooths on the beach. Since they were all bonded Kin that kept to the preytooth nest, he was certain none of them would know. He was therefore shocked to hear Crush Claw quietly hiss, "I saw."

All eyes turned to the firescale. Two Hearts considered a moment before asking, "You saw what?"

The firescale paused, seeing the reaction he'd gotten. "The... the small preytooth? The one with the brightscale that Smoketail grounded?"

The crackling of burning wood filled the silence as the Kin near him considered his words. "What happened?"

Crush Claw couldn't answer right away. His liver was fighting with itself. He'd been stunned and frightened when the brightscale had attacked Smoketail and tried to intervene on her rider's behalf. That his partner was fighting with the younger preytooth was confusing enough. To see the Gatherer end the brightscale's life with a mere swat of his paw turned Crush Claw's wings to stone. While the fear held him pinned, he watched the fight between the two preytooths come to its end. He couldn't understand why Braintwist would kill the younger one, or why the brightscale had tried to intervene. It didn't occur to him until much later that perhaps he should have tried to do what the brightscale had tried. Maybe if he had, things would have ended differently.

Or maybe he would have ended up next to her, his body shattered and his life lost.

But what could he say about it? He hadn't understood it then, any more than he did now. Was Braintwist to blame? The young preytooth? The brightscale?

Ghostly teeth closed on his wing and his hind's damaged talons ached. Then the words came to him.

"The small one... it was killed." He looked around, seeing he was the center of everyone's attention; even the preytooths who could not hear his words.

"How?"

Another spark of thought came to him. Crush Claw was the only one that had been there who still lived. His wings flicked, trying to shake off the feeling of massive teeth closing on them. "Tell them it was Smoketail." Two Hearts scrutinized him, breathing deeply to taste the state of his liver. Likely some small flutter of deception betrayed him. The words felt right, however. He would not take them back.

"It was Smoketail." It was a statement and a question, quietly demanding resolution.

Crush Claw's wings flicked again, still trying to evade the memory of the Gatherer's threat. His words had kept him alive, kept him whole. If the young preytooth's death was wrong, it was only fitting the scent of it cling to Smoketail. Just as the scent of broken eggs had. "It was Smoketail." There was no heat in his liver and none colored his words. But his eyes spoke clearly to the ghostwing.

Two Hearts looked off toward the sea, where the Gatherer had been grounded for good. He scented the deception from Crush Claw. He also considered what any other answer could do to the Kin truce. He'd said the words himself, earlier that day. 'My Kin need you gone, the preytooths need you gone.' If some other Kin had killed the young preytooth, or even if Iceblood had been responsible, letting the fledgling's death follow the Gatherer into the cold waters would let everyone rest easier. He turned back to his nest mate.

"I will tell them it was Smoketail. Hopefully all will fly clearer skies with this story behind them."

Turning to sire, the ghostwing pulled his metal tool from its pocket and made a circle on the pebbly shore. He added six dots for eyes and grunted the word for 'Gatherer.'

Stoick sighed quietly, wishing the sign had been otherwise, or at least confusing enough to entertain some hope. Of the few symbols the Fury could draw without Hiccup to interpret, that was the only one that made a search for Jaspin practically useless. "He says it was the Red Death."

"Who says?" Hogknee's voice was tinged with desperation. "What do you mean? Where is Jaspin?"

Stoick pointed to the loose drawing on the ground. "The dragons say it was the Red Death." He shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry Hogknee."

Anger and sorrow became a potent mix, driving the fisherman to stand on his one good leg and grimacing in pain and distress. "What do you mean 'the dragons say'? Where's my son?"

The chief pointed to the drawing. "Hiccup asked if the dragons knew what happened to Jaspin. They answered with a symbol that means 'Red Death.' We also saw dried blood, a lot of it, up in the cave. And a handprint. A small one." Stoick shrugged helplessly. "I am sorry but I'm afraid it looks like Jaspin didn't survive his encounter with the Red Death."

Freygerd tried to take his hand and get Hogknee to sit down. He jerked his hand away, his eyes never leaving Stoick's. "You 'asked the dragons'? What...what kind of madness is that?" His gaze shifted from Stoick to Einarr, wanting someone to give him an answer that made sense to him. "Dragons can't talk. Everyone knows that." He grew more frustrated as no one responded, not even Einarr. His eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding?"

Spitelout spoke up. "Hogknee, there's a lot to discuss about what's happened here today. It will take time to-"

"NO!" Hogknee tried to take a step and almost collapsed against the side of the beached boat. "It's a simple question! Where is my son? Why won't you tell me?"

"You need rest, Hogknee." Even Freygerd's no-nonsense voice couldn't calm the man down. When he swatted aimlessly at her with the back of his hand, she caught his wrist and viciously twisted it until he gave a surprised yelp and nearly went to his knees. "You're heart is clouded with grief! Nothing will make sense until you've had time to rest."

"I want my son back," he gasped.

Freygerd refused to release his wrist. "I know. And we will still look for him in the morning. Won't we, Stoick?"

"Of course," he readily agreed.

She slowly let the pressure off Hogknee's wrist, helping guide him gently to the ground. He rolled to his side to ease the pressure off his broken ankle and curled up facing the boat's hull. He said no more that evening.

---

"Close your eyes."

"I always do."

"And no licking!"

"Yeah, bud. Keep that tongue to yourself."

A soft grunt answered him, followed by a gentle nudge from the Fury's nose against his elbow. Hiccup's hand easily found the tip of his friend's snout.

"How's your mouth doing?"

"Good."

"Does it still hurt?"

"No."

"Enough," Freygerd warned. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Of course," Hiccup grumped.

"Don't get snippy with me, sprout. I'm still your elder and you'll respect that."

He huffed a dramatic sigh. "I know, it's just... gods, I'm so bored!"

"I understand, believe me." He felt her remove the bandage around his head and pluck the wool pads from his eyes. "Tight shut," she gently reminded him. "I think your bruises and burns will be healed enough to let you out of bed by tomorrow."

Hiccup very nearly opened his eyes at the good news. Luckily for him he resisted the urge. "Really?" He heard water dripping and smelled the herbal paste she was applying to the new pads. "That's great! I can't wait to see the village again. Being blind is the worst-"

"Bruises and burns, not your eyes! Not yet, anyway."

"Aw, come on Freygerd!"

"Whining does not become the son of a chief." The new wool pads, heavy with moisture and filling the air with an almost pleasant fragrance, were carefully placed over his closed eyes. "I'll not let you risk your sight by rushing my treatment." The bandage was tied back over them, also wet with an extra ointment she claimed was helpful for burns. "Besides, you can walk around the village without seeing for a bit. You'll have Toothless to guide you, yes?"

"Oh." He thought about what she was proposing and accepted that it was a manageable compromise. "Yeah, I suppose. That alright with you, Toothless?"

"Yes, yes!"

He smiled at the enthusiastic reply, until Freygerd began checking on the burns on his leg and hip. He hissed as another bandage was slowly pulled away. "Good pink skin, healing nicely." The snout left Hiccup's hand and he could feel the warm breath as he sniffed closely at the wound. "Toothless approves; no infection. No more licking needed there, I guess." She pressed lightly on the area. "Does it pull when you move your leg?"

Hiccup raised his shortened leg slowly, wincing at the prickling feeling across the tender skin. "A bit." Freygerd moved away for a moment, as did Toothless. He bit his lip before testing the waters with a quiet, "Dad?"

"He's out, Hiccup."

"It's just us three?" He wanted assurance before he spoke up.

Freygerd noticed. She paused before asking, "What's on your mind?"

"What's going on? Out in the village, I mean. Dad won't say anything and I think he's not letting anyone visit."

Silence stretched on long enough that he wondered if she'd left or was mad at him for asking. Finally he heard a soft sigh. "Stoick asked me not to burden you with this, but I see you've managed to worry yourself anyway."

"What?" With several days of bed rest and blindness to get through, he'd started imagining all kinds of bad situations among the citizens of Berk. Stoick never acted as though there was a crisis when he was home, though.

"Einarr's been talking up the battle, trying to align folks against the dragons."

"What?! Why would he-"

"He's not getting very far," she soothed. "Only a few families are on his side right now, nowhere near enough to threaten Stoick's command."

"A few families?" Despite Freygerd's calm words, Hiccup could easily imagine the situation turning ugly.

"Easy, lad." She had returned to his side and he felt her hands spreading more of her ointment on his burns. It helped, in the long run, but it stung when she applied it. When he hissed in pain another warm presence returned to his side. Toothless pressed his snout into the crook of his neck and shoulder, moaning in commiseration.

When the burning sensation had settled down, he felt her wrapping clean bandages around his leg and stump. The gash at the end of his shortened leg was a bit deep but easier to treat.

"How's Hogknee" he suddenly asked.

Freygerd paused again, but only for a moment. "Don't know. He's not come out of his house since we returned."

Thoughts of Jaspin and Bitequick stung his heart. He grimaced, feeling his eyes get hot with tears that burned more than they ought. He didn't mention it to anyone, but he found himself wishing Jaspin had asked him to go with him to Red Death Island. Perhaps things would have turned out better for everyone. Certainly he could have helped prevent their loss. His hands clenched in the thin blanket covering all but the leg being treated. He remembered Toothless finding the Nadder, her graceful form still and empty.

Toothless could sense his distress and pressed his snout a little more firmly against his neck. He felt the tip of his forked tongue briefly visit the skin there.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. At that moment he wasn't sure to whom he spoke: the two friends he couldn't help or the one at hand who worried for him. He turned his head toward Toothless', reaching with his arms until the width of the Fury's head was awkwardly gripped as tightly as he could manage. "I'm sorry."

"Hiccup?" When he didn't answer, she pressed with, "What's wrong?"

He recalled speaking to Hogknee's son about their relationship with their dragons. Bitequick sat with Toothless, Jaspin looked to him for acceptance. Both gone now and he'd never known they were in trouble.

"Jaspin," he groaned. "Why didn't he say something?"

His chest tightened as he remembered thinking one of the pair may have seen the other's demise. He immediately envisioned himself and Toothless in that situation and his stomach clenched.

He grieved in silence for a time before Freygerd spoke. "I don't know what made him choose to go there, but it was his choice that led him to his end. We may mourn his loss but we shouldn't mourn his choice. We choose by what's in our hearts. His heart led him there." A soft, warm hand lay across his knee, just below the bandages. "His was a good heart, wasn't it?"

Hiccup nodded, needing a moment to steady his breathing before he answered, "Yes."

The blanket was pulled back over his bandaged leg, her hand resting lightly on his hip. A moment later, her voice filled his mind.

"Who can sail without the wind?

"Who can row without oars?

"Who can say farewell to a friend

"without shedding tears?"

"I can sail without the wind,

"I can row without oars,

"but I can't say farewell to a friend

"without shedding tears."

The words were strangely comforting and he felt the tightness in his chest easing. He rubbed the bumpy scales of his dragon's head, taking much solace in the Fury's presence. Moments later he heard the door open, then close.

His world became silence and darkness; the framework of sleep. Thoughts that had tormented him settled and let him be in peace. He sighed quietly, grateful for everything good in his life. He soon realized the silence wasn't complete. There was the slow, heavy breathing of a dragon lying next to his bed. It reminded him of the placid, steady breaths taken by the ocean as it caressed the shore.

A new sound filled his head, echoing in both his ear and the bones of his skull. It was a gentle but powerful hum. It shifted a few times, rising and falling, almost as if experimenting with his perceptions. Opening his eyes to see the source never occurred to him. This was so close to magic he was convinced it couldn't be seen with mortal vision.

It grew, in power and volume, until it seemed to wash his head clean of anything remotely painful. For an instant his hands trembled in awe, unable to react in any other meaningful way. Soon even that ceased and only peace existed.

He felt he was slipping away. Sleep gathered itself from the corners of his body and lay claim to each bit of him in turn. It was as if Hiccup was vanishing, leaving only a thin, ragged shadow behind.

There was a brief moment of mild shock before he dropped fully into sleep. The pattern of the sound was familiar. It was the song Freygerd had just sung, wordless yet utterly faithful to the tune. Slowed to match the glacial breath of a mountain and lowered enough to please the whales singing in the ocean, it gradually swept Hiccup away.

---

It was a laborious flight to Far Shore Nest. Truthseeker hated to leave their bond partners behind, especially when the female was injured. There was no lack of support from the other preytooths of her nest so they didn't fear her being left behind or forgotten. Preytooths were much like Kin that way.

Another similarity they'd only recently discovered was the acceptance of the wounded and infirm. Being within the preytooth nest allowed them to see that many of those that lost a limb or were of limited function still managed to earn their place among their kin. It warmed their liver mightily to see them find creative ways to replace what they lost, too. That Featherstone had used that skill to return Two Hearts' flight to him was a source of much discussion among those who bonded with preytooths.

They called to the nest as they approached, alerting those on the ground that they carried wounded with them. Few of those who had left with Eyeshine and Sunflame had yet returned so there was little response from below. But a voice did answer.

Those tending the nests watched with keen interest as their passenger slid sideways off their back. Truthseeker immediately extended a wing to help support the injured firescale once she was on the ground.

"Nightsun!"

Another firescale, a male who scented of fear when he came rushing up to them, twined his long neck around hers.

"I live, Sharptooth, I live." A contented thrum built quickly between them, a sure sign of their pleasure at seeing each other again. "How are the nests?"

"No hatchlings yet but it will not be long. Would that we had some this season."

Nightsun pulled back, nosing her mate gently. "We will. One nest has lost both dam and sire."

Sharptooth hissed in distress. "No! Who? Who is gone?"

"Eyeshine and her mate, Sunflame."

"Our First Hunter? And..." He regarded her with quiet intensity. "Yes. If the Nest agrees, we should raise their hatchlings for them. We will tell them the stories of their lives. They will know clean skies." He hesitated, realizing there was a scent about his mate that spoke of more than the grounding of others. "And you? Why did this splitneck carry you here?"

With an attempt at quiet dignity, she raised her damaged wing. Sharptooth was struck speechless.

"I'll have to change my flight name. I will no longer be able to circle the nest at night firing my scales." Her voice trembled, betraying the true pain she felt in her liver.

"Your... your wing... you've been..."

"My body only," she tried to assure him. "My mind still soars."

When he finally pulled his gaze from her ruined wing to her half-closed eyes, he felt his liver flare. He recalled the words spoken between them, long ago. He knew they were needed now, more than ever.

"I will bear your weight when you cannot."

"Sharptooth..."

"I will bring food when you cannot," he continued. "I will guard our nest when you cannot. I will raise our hatchlings when you cannot." He nosed her gently, a soft thrum building in the back of his throat. "Our wings will cover the sky, together."

He suddenly blinked, looking a bit distressed. "And the ground," he added.

---

Stoick must have passed the word. There was no other reason Hiccup's appearance could be so easily accepted without endless questions or comments. How else could anyone ignore a young man, riding through the village on the back of a placid Night Fury, bearing bandages over his eyes and lacking his famous false leg?

As it was, he was able to make it to Gobber's smithy with only a few friendly greetings thrown his way. Hiccup waved to the voices, having no idea if he was facing them or not. He felt a little silly, riding his friend the short distance. Until his replacement leg was ready, it was easier than hopping blindly into trees and houses.

Toothless stopped and gave a rumbling growl which was quickly answered with a familiar voice calling, "Oy, Hiccup! Just in time. We need to do the first fitting." There was a brief pause, followed by a quiet, "Glad to see you, too, Toothless. Bring him inside, please. Ach, watch out, Phil, you're gonna get stepped on!" He heard the light chittering of a Terror responding to the smith.

Once Toothless had settled his belly to the floor, Gobber directed Hiccup to a bench. His teacher and mentor asked after his health, commenting that his movement seemed to indicate his burns were no longer causing him much pain. Soon large, calloused hands were touching the back of his abbreviated leg. Hiccup leaned down to untie the bunched fabric around the stump and roll it up over his knee.

"This one's gonna take some getting used to, Hiccup. It's heavier and does things the old one couldn't."

The young man was intrigued. "Really? Like what?"

"Well, I remembered you sayin' that your old one had a pad that was a bit too small for floors and a bit too big for the open ground." He felt the cool touch of leather slipping over the end of his leg. "So I got to thinking that maybe you really needed two legs."

"Ummm..."

"Of course I knew that wasn't a good idea. Who'd want to carry a spare leg around and swap it constantly?" The cup was metal this time rather than wood. It pressed the leather lining rather firmly against his healing flesh as Gobber worked it onto him. He must have winced because the man stopped to ask, "Hurtin' ya?"

"A little tender is all. It'll need to be snug, I know."

"Yep. So anyway, I realized the solution is to put them both into the same leg."

Hiccup froze as the words pushed his mind into a sudden frenzy of flickering ideas. Thoughts raced through his head. Gobber noticed this as well, for he chuckled and said, "Here, feel how it's put together." Hands as rough as his fathers yet as precise as a woodcarver's enveloped his. "This is the indoor foot. Feel how it sits between these two struts?"

"Yeah, so how did you-"

His hand were directed down to a slight bulge in the construction. "Hinge pin and latch."

"Of course!" Hiccup smiled as his fingers traced the form of Gobber's design. "Brilliant. Yeah, and the latch flips down to hold it in place."

"You've got it. Just don't try running on it until you prove the latch will stand the strain." The meaty hand gently patted his shoulder. "I'd hate to see that thing pivot on you when you weren't expecting it."

"Yeah, I understand. Thanks, Gobber."

"Sure thing. You wanna try standing on it?"

Hiccup nodded and immediately felt a hand under one elbow and a wing joint under his other. With help from his friends he carefully stood up. His leg wasn't fully seated and his stump slid a short distance into the cup. Having experienced that before, he was able to compensate. When he felt ready, despite the stinging on his wound, he gradually put his full weight on the new leg. It wobbled a tiny bit.

"There's a little bit of slop in the joint. I can tighten that up if you want me too."

He tested it, rocking it a bit side to side and back to front. "Honestly, it's no worse than the give the spring had in the old one. Just need to get used to it." He smiled, wishing he could see Gobber's face. "Thanks Gobber. It's great!"

"Yer welcome, lad." He paused a moment before adding, "There's a little something about it you might want to know. Dunno how you feel about it, but... yer old leg rig didn't have enough metal in it to make the new one. And it was melted to Anvindr's sword anyway, so... I used the metal from both to make it."

Being reminded of what had happened on the back of the new Red Death sent Hiccup's mind off in an unexpected direction. From Anvindr to Jaspin to Freygerd to Einarr, his thoughts led him to a question he'd hoped to ask if he got the chance.

"Gobber," he asked, his voice low. "What's going on with Einarr? Freygerd said some families were turning against the dragons?"

The smith's tone was equally reserved. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. He's been telling his side of the story to a lot of folks. They like the excitement of the tale but they're still trying to make up there minds about the rest of the dragons." The hand was back on his shoulder. "The good news is there hasn't been any more mischief on their part since we got back. In fact, we haven't seen anything but the few dragons that were still here when we left for the nest. It's like they lost interest in coming here."

Hiccup considered that a moment. "I hope that's not going to be permanent."

Gobber sighed. "Me, too. I miss my big bony lizard. I never got a chance to try my new forge!"

There was something else nagging at Hiccup's conscience, though.

---

"Are you ready, Hiccup?"

"I've been ready."

He was sitting at the table in his house, his hands nervously picking at the splintered edge of the wood. His father was at his left, his large hand resting partly on the back of the chair and partly on his shoulder. Toothless' warm bulk was close to his right, a heavy forepaw mirroring Stoick's hand on the other side. The Fury had begun using his claws more like Vikings did; picking things up to hand to Hiccup, steadying him as he tried to gain his balance on a new leg without his sight to aid him. The dragon had even brushed the stray hair from under his bandage with amazing delicacy. It was as if the dragon had decided using his paws to draw wasn't enough.

"Alright," came Freygerd's voice. "It's well after sundown and there's one candle lit at the other end of the house. Keep your eyes closed after the bandage comes off and keep your head down until I say otherwise, got it?"

"Got it," Hiccup breathed.

Once the last medicated wool pads were off his eyelids, she wiped them clean with a soft rag. Her hand pressed gently against the back of his head, making sure his head was down. "Alright, open them."

He was thrilled to realize that he could see. He was also dismayed that he couldn't understand what he was looking at. He should have seen his own lap, dimly lit by a far away candle. There were dancing shadows and strange shapes floating in front of his face but nothing he recognized.

"Any pain?"

"Umm, no."

"No burning or watering?"

He blinked, thinking he would have noticed if his eyes were watering. "Nothing." Suddenly the strange shapes in front of him disappeared. As they moved away he realized it had been a hand held close to his face. Now he could see what he expected: his body dressed in older clothes to replace the ones damaged during the fight. They weren't as sharply focused as he expected. They also seemed to waver a bit, as if his eyes were having trouble adjusting.

"Now, slowly raise your head. Don't try to look at the candle at first, just follow the floor toward it." Freygerd's hand remained on his head, ready to act if needed.

The farther away he looked, the stranger things got. Blurry, wobbly shadows couldn't seem to decide where they belonged. He stopped raising his head, concentrating on the pattern of wooden boards in the floor. Blinking rapidly helped a bit, until he started to feel a gritty sensation creep into them. "Ow." He raised a hand to rub at them.

"Alright, hold on!" Shuffling footsteps were followed by something being dipped in water and wrung out. Freygerd returned to carefully clean his eyes again. Once she was done, the discomfort was gone. He blinked again, feeling normal. Without thinking he raised his head and looked right at her.

Hiccup grinned. "I see you. Clearly!" She stood between him and the candle. Weirdly, the effect gave her a halo of light that picked out every stray fiber of wool in her tunic and straggling hair on her head. Was it really only one candle?

It was, and looking directly at it hurt. At least it did for a few minutes. His father was a mountain with a bright slash of teeth from his open smile. Toothless was ghostly, barely more than an outline with hints of bluish black and two eyes that seemed to drink in the light and radiate it back out as a warm glow. There wasn't anything else he'd have wanted to see more than those two things. He felt the smile pull at his healing cheeks.

Once he acclimated, another candle was lit, then another. Eventually they had the hearth fire going and he could see everything as clearly as they'd hoped. His father's relieved smile warmed him as much as Toothless' head pressed against his stomach.

To celebrate, Stoick made his salmon stew and bade Freygerd to stay for the meal. He and Hiccup thanked her repeatedly as they ate. It was an honestly enjoyable evening, though Hiccup noticed that none of them seemed willing to discuss certain topics. Stoick even offered some of the stew to Toothless, though the dragon declined. Hiccup thought the Night Fury seemed more reserved than usual, despite the many reasons they had to be grateful.

Once the meal was finished Freygerd gave Hiccup a small jar of the healing paste sealed with wax and told him to apply it before bed if his eyes bothered him the next day. She soon headed home, pausing at the door to regard the still form of Thorithr slumbering just outside. In the light of a waxing moon, she briefly studied the colorful scales that ranged over her hide before gently checking the long, healing cut across her neck and chest. Finding everything to her satisfaction, she moved on toward her cottage.

With the door closed and the three of them alone, an unnerving silence filled the house. Stoick still stood by the door, staring at the small cook fire in the hearth. Toothless' head was down, his eyes heavily lidded. Hiccup looked between the two of them a moment.

"Sssssso."

Neither of them stirred. Hiccup sighed.

"What happens now?"

Stoick looked up at his son, but their attention was drawn to the dragon as he suddenly moaned and closed his eyes. Hiccup stepped closer, reaching out to his friend. "What's wrong, bud? Are you feeling alright?"

"No. Bad."

The young man hesitated, uncertain what could be wrong with Toothless.

"Do you want me to bring Freygerd back?"

The Fury raised his head, his expression one of such heartbreak that Hiccup froze. "No."

"What..." He looked from his friend to his father and back. "What's..."

The dragon moved to the empty end of the hearth, pulled his pencil from its holder and slowly wrote a single sentence.

[I much much bad to you]

Hiccup clenched his fists and drew a sharp breath. The word 'no' was on his lips, ready to soothe his friend's grief. He couldn't say it, though.

He'd spent five days in darkness with little more than his thoughts to occupy him. Naturally he'd spent a lot of time considering how the whole affair on Red Death Island could have gone better. There were many things he thought he could have done differently.

Some of the more uncomfortable ideas that circled his mind concerned the dragons. Since that first incredible moment with Toothless in their cove, he'd been learning more about them than anyone before. But every time he answered one question, more would present themselves. Learning they were as intelligent and sophisticated as Vikings, in their own way, compounded the questions that demanded answering. With the dragon's language now known and their hybrid, written version able to bridge some of the gap, Hiccup had hoped to make real strides in understanding the dragons.

One afternoon on a mountain top and five days in black isolation made those hopes seem childish.

Hiccup wanted to forgive Toothless. He remembered all too clearly asking for the same from him and feeling a soul-lightening relief when it was given. Theirs was a friendship unlike any other and he cherished it above all else. Toothless was worth it. Toothless was an incredible being of power and compassion, loyalty and trustworthiness.

But Toothless wasn't perfect.

They'd all made a choice to take on the new Red Death. They'd chosen to end its life to protect many others. Toothless made several other choices that day. One set Hiccup aside, out of harm's way and unable to find an opportunity to peacefully end the conflict they'd started.

Another was made, he felt certain, in fear and anger. Toothless protected Hiccup from Anvindr when the man was threatening his life. The fear and anger had caused him to strike with such power that he'd unwittingly endangered Hiccup's life and almost injured him in a way that would have been very difficult to bear.

He'd had plenty of time to consider all the choices made that day, and the consequences that had come from them. Nothing about any of it felt satisfying or conclusive, especially after having gone through such a battle with the first Red Death. But he couldn't pinpoint anything that had specifically prevented him from succeeding in stopping the violence or convincing the enormous dragon to leave. It felt much like he'd arrived to put out a fire long after the house had burned.

Which meant Toothless was suffering needlessly from his guilt.

Hiccup stepped into the bed of ashes and dragged his iron foot across the Fury's words. Then he knelt, ankle deep in dust, ash and fish bones and put his hands under Toothless' chin, lifting gently. His friend allowed his head to come up until they shared a solemn gaze.

"You did nothing bad to me. I got myself in trouble and you got me out. I'm healing, I can see and the nest is free again. We did it." He looked up momentarily at his father, who was watching and listening intently. "We all did it. The right, the wrong, the good and bad... we all did it."

Toothless stared at him for a time, blinking slowly. "Hiccup. Good."

A grin spread across his face, pulling at the healing skin of his cheeks. "You're my best friend, bud. I will always trust you."

Thin arms embraced a wide head and a snout met a nose, giving and receiving comfort from the touch. When Stoick gently cleared his throat, they both looked up at him. His relaxed expression helped reinforce the warmth they felt at that moment. His words were serious enough to help settle their minds, though.

"You asked the question. I'm not yet sure of the answer."

Hiccup considered all that he felt needed to be done now. He'd had time to think, to consider options and to make plans. First and foremost, he wanted one thing from his father.

"We tell the village the truth."

Stoick nodded calmly but with an air of reservation. "That's not the only matter to consider, though."

"I know, but this has waited long enough. They need to know."

"I agree. But there's more to it than that."

Hiccup hesitated, uncertain what reference Stoick was trying to make. "Like?"

His father smiled, a gentle, knowing smile that once might have felt belittling. Now Hiccup only felt a bit frustrated at himself for not seeing whatever it was. There was a touch of disappointment, too. What was he missing?

"The other half." Stoick looked pointedly at Toothless, who met his eyes easily but with no more understanding than his partner. "I said it at the conclave. The dragons are our allies now. We'll need their ideas on how this goes forward."

"OH!" Hiccup cringed and smacked his forehead, then hissed at the sting of tender flesh. It was, he reflected sourly, something he deserved for forgetting the entire reason for removing the Red Death from the nest. Thoughts of possible blindness, memories of a pitched battle, concerns for how the villagers were seeing the dragons: it had kept him distracted enough to temporarily lose sight of 'the other half.' "We need to go back to the nest!" He looked at Toothless, trying to voice all the thoughts that were now rushing through his mind. "We need to talk to the... leader..." His face crumpled in confusion. "Bud, do dragons have... is there a leader of the nest? A, uh, 'chief' dragon? Someone we can..."

Toothless answered with only a grunt and a shifting of his shoulders.

"That's... incredibly not helpful. Do... do you have conclaves? Do you, I dunno, organize yourselves into... groups or something?"

The Fury thought about it for a second. "No."

"Hmm." Stoick eyed his son, his smile unchanged. Hiccup got the idea that this was all playing out the way his father had expected. "Sounds like there's some work to do before we can explain our new relationship with our allies." His smile faded and his voice lowered to a more serious timbre. "Think you're up to it?"

Hiccup's eyes widened. "I..."

The smile returned. "You'll need to take your lessons on leadership a bit more seriously now. If you had before..." He tipped his head forward a little, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "...you might have seen this coming."

His thoughts were still racing. He imagined himself and Toothless going back to the island, trying to talk to the dragons about how the two cultures would coexist. Would the dragons that had bonded before the breeding season return to their partners? Would they be considered immigrants or emissaries? And what about that small nest on Berk's northern shore? Where did they figure into all this? Hiccup glanced up at Toothless. The dragon was watching him intensely.

"I certainly can't do it alone." He scratched lightly at the sensitive spot on the Fury's lower jaw. "I'll need help."

The rough, rumbling purr coming from deep within Toothless' chest seemed answer enough.

---

It was, Hiccup later reflected, the most devious of traps. He'd avoided getting involved in learning how to manage the duties of a chief for years. Now, with the dragons to consider, he had a compelling reason to dig his hands into the complicated knots of leadership. Wanting to protect and represent them did nothing to make the job easier, though. If anything, the problems got harder.

Dragons were people. That much was crystal clear. But dragons were most certainly not Vikings. While Hiccup would have once said that was a crucial, even critical, difference, he also would have listed it as one of the advantages. Now he had doubts.

Two full weeks of peace had let Berk take a deep breath and give thanks for the advantages of a few good rains and no dragon attacks. The protestations of those who wanted all the dragons removed from Berk eventually diminished. Hiccup was fairly certain, and his father agreed, that those ill feelings hadn't gone away. For the moment, Hiccup believed he had time to complete the task of bringing real peace to both Berk and the dragons. At least, so long as nothing interfered with his work before he was done.

There'd been a strange moment, during a long and difficult talk with the dragons nesting on the northern shore. There'd actually only been one dragon present from that nest. He and Toothless had been asked to respect the boundaries of the nest since there were newly hatched dragons to protect. They could hear the occasional squeak and chirp of those youngest members in the distance while they spoke with the young Nadder that met them.

Hearing the hungry cries of dragon hatchlings forced Hiccup to realize that Anvindr had been right. In the balance of protecting the dragons and preserving Berk's Viking heritage, the former would always count as his primary concern. Neither side was weak but Anvindr had proved that the Vikings would always be the more devious group. Protecting dragons, to Hiccup, ultimately meant bringing the two sides together and getting them to understand that they could greatly benefit from cooperating.

The dragons seemed to understand. Some even appeared to agree. But he never felt completely certain that they grasped the urgency of the situation. Perhaps having so many hatchlings clamoring for attention was affecting their outlook. Hiccup supposed that was understandable. But what more could he say? What else could he offer?

He felt stuck, halfway between two worlds that both attracted and repelled one another.

His thoughts, as often did, overwhelmed him on his way from Gobber's to his house. The smith had been more than happy to make a small adjustment to his new leg since he didn't have time to take care of it himself. He'd gotten to the village's gathering circle, an area with many flat stones and logs for seating large groups. With Toothless at his side, he settled himself on a convenient rock and took out his newest journal, going over the notes he'd taken at the northern nest.

There were friendly greetings for him, though he likely missed several while his eyes restlessly scanned the small scribblings he'd rushed to get on the page. One greeting in particular caught his attention. The sudden familiar gurgling of a Hideous Zippleback was guaranteed to get through to him.

Ruffnut was working her way past him on her crutch. Her distinctive, gravelly voice betrayed a weariness that had little to do with her healing leg. Hiccup looked up at her, seeing the sun was noticeably closer to setting than it had been when he sat down.

"Ruff," he answered after an awkward pause. "Hi, sorry. I was kinda caught up in..." He held up the journal as if it were entirely to blame.

"Yeah, I know." Bjalki and Bjarki muttered to Toothless, who quietly grumbled his response.

Hiccup pointed to the crutch. "You're getting around better."

She frowned slightly, as if displeased with such an observation. "I guess. Still hurts like fire sometimes."

Now Hiccup frowned. "Doesn't Freygerd have something that could..."

Ruffnut shrugged her free shoulder. "Eh, she probably does. Probably thinks it's funnier to watch me hobble around in misery."

Hiccup dismissed the idea. "I doubt that." He glanced to the west, where Freygerd's cottage was visible atop its hill. "How are the lessons going?"

The question seemed to weigh on her. She moved to sit next to him, taking the assistance Bjalki offered with his extended head for granted. "Slow. I was never good at reading and remembering stuff." She cast him a glance that bordered on accusation. "It's a lot easier to slice something open than to patch it back together."

He studied her a moment. Taking a small risk, he leaned closer and quietly asked, "But you do want to learn, right?"

Likely she didn't care for the reminder. After all, she'd been the one to rise to Stoick's call and approach Freygerd. Many considered the idea of Ruffnut Thorston being a dragon healer to be laughable. None were willing to laugh openly at her though, not when she scowled at them. Hiccup's only reservation was that she might not be up to the task and would only continue her training as a way to silence critics. She would never become a competent healer that way.

The dangerous glower that flashed across her face eased immediately when her Zippleback rumbled at her. Bjalki nudged her gently. Like virtually everyone who had partnered with a dragon, her hand came up automatically to stroke the warm scales.

Ruffnut looked away, focusing on stroking the ridge over Bjalki's eye. "Yeah. I do. It feels... worth while, you know? I'll be the first full-fledged dragon healer in the world. Dragons will come from everywhere to have me sew up their wings and pull thorns from their paws." Now she leaned back a bit, looking up at a perfectly cloudless sky. "Eventually I'll be rich and respected. Who knows? I might even snag a chief's son for a husband."

Hiccup only scoffed at the jab. "Yeah, good luck with that."

She didn't respond the way he expected. She growled, angrily and rather dragon-like. When he looked at her Hiccup realized she was staring at something above them. Searching the skies he quickly found the source of her ire.

"I still can't believe Bjarki just let him go like that."

Tuffnut and his new companion were too high to hear but he suspected there was a lot of whooping and hollering going on up there. The small Nightmare's flight was as energetic and acrobatic as his species could get and he had no doubts Tuff was urging him on. He smiled, grateful his skin had finally healed enough not to hurt when he did.

"I don't know. Looks like they get along really well. And besides..." He felt good enough at the sight to take another risk and nudge her with his elbow. "Doesn't that really give you twice as much dragon, all for yourself?"

"Yeah," she grunted. "But he better stick with that one." Her eyes never strayed from the small winged figure gracefully looping through the air. She raised her other hand and with no other prompting Bjarki was there, getting his share of gentle scratching. "It's not right to break a dragon's heart. He needs to take an oath or something."

Hiccup nearly burst out laughing at the thought of Tuffnut and his Nightmare having a handfasting ceremony. Imagining his father over such an event had him clenching his teeth to keep from giving himself away.

But only until he considered them trading the words of their oath.

The hair on his arms rose and his jaw hung slack. "Oh gods," he breathed.

Ruff glanced warily at him. "What?"

"That's it," he muttered. "That's it!" He turned to her, a wild look in his eyes. She leaned back a bit, having seen it before and knowing what would likely come next. "That's perfect! Thank you!"

Toothless, curious about his friend's outburst, grumbled something quietly to him. Even he flinched a little when Hiccup turned to him and started rambling. "Tooth- we need to go back. The little nest, that Nadder, the one we met before. I need to ask him... wait, how would they... writing's useless. Do they even... it must be all verbal..."

Ruffnut was not impressed. "You start foaming at the mouth and I'm kicking you off a cliff."

He didn't hear her. He stood, wobbling slightly and leaning forward to catch himself on his Night Fury's neck. That motion transferred into a bizarrely smooth mounting of the saddle. He was still muttering as he tucked his legs up against Toothless' sides and not in the control stirrups. The dragon stretched each hind leg, wriggling his paws before he leapt. They were gone within moments, heading north.

Ruffnut scoffed at the vacant seat next to her. "And they want him to be the next chief? Got as much chance as me being a..." Bjalki's head moved to hover directly in front of her, her expression strangely serious. Even a Thorston couldn't miss such an obvious message. She sighed. "Yeah, alright." She struggled to her feet, accepting her Zippleback's assistance and only twitching when the very tip of two forked tongues touched each of her cheeks.

Limping toward her home she muttered, "Place gets weirder every month."

---

Two Hearts wasn't sure what to expect when Featherstone asked him to return to Far Shore Nest. The last time they'd visited, their conversation with Skyflank had given none of them much lift. The brightscale was obviously concerned with the hatchlings calling in his nest. Featherstone seemed to be just as distracted, wanting to see them yet only allowed to get close enough to hear them. While the idea he'd had earlier still warmed his liver, he suspected the hatchlings were of more interest to both of them. He decided to wait a bit before setting that fish before Far Shore's new First Hunter.

This time as they approached and he called for permission to land, there were no hatchling calls filling the air. Instead there were the slow, soothing words of the First Song. It was used to teach the nest's newest Kin as well as calm them. Two Hearts recalled humming it as a fledgling to hatchlings younger than him, easing their minds with simple words of love and support. It was the nest's promise to each member that they would be cared for.

It was once again Skyflank who answered their call. This time, however, it was phrased as an invitation to roost among the nests. Warmed by the show of trust, Two Hearts grumbled a happy reply and circled the nest once to let Featherstone see where they were about to land. He heard excitement in his flight mate's voice when he realized where they were headed.

Despite his youth, the brightscale was relaxed and calm as they touched ground on the rocky beach. He said nothing at first, letting the deep rumbling of the First Song echo from his own narrow chest in concert with the rest. Two Hearts nudged Featherstone as he slid from his back, catching his eye. He continued his humming, letting the Song fill him with the kind of peace that he'd only found in the sky with his amazing preytooth friend. Featherstone stared at him, then looked around at the nesting dragons.

Hatchlings pressed close to parents as the low tones of the Song washed over them. Now and again one would chirp or squawk but little else disrupted the nest's tranquility. Many eyes observed them from the egg nests; parents calm and watchful, hatchlings curious and uncertain.

"No Teeth, are these Kin singing?" Featherstone's voice was a respectful hush.

Two Hearts answered in kind. "Yes."

His flight mate laid a foreclaw on his neck and marveled at the nest and its occupants. "It's... it's beautiful." He glanced sidelong at his preytooth. 'Beautiful' was a word that confused him sometimes. It seemed to mean 'pleasing to the senses' but was sometimes applied to things that he considered of little interest. Now, however, he could see the reaction the First Song had on Featherstone. It held his attention yet calmed him as it would a hatchling. He knew his flight mate didn't know any of the words being sung, yet it made him happy. His foreclaw was rubbing his neck in small circles without his seeming to realize it.

He nudged Featherstone in the side with his snout. "Good."

"Yes," the preytooth breathed. "Much good. It... it makes me want to be Kin."

Two Hearts blinked at the wistful desire in his flight mate's words. He was still wondering what to make of it when Skyflank approached.

"Soft tailwinds." Having already given permission to approach the nest, the brightscale's words were a kindness given to a favored visitor.

Two Hearts answered with equal warmth. "Swift hunting."

Skyflank glanced back at the nests a moment. "The last viable eggs opened a few days ago. Nightsun and Sharptooth will raise Eyeshine's brood this season."

"They will be strong guardians for them, I'm certain."

"Yes," Skyflank agreed. "Nightsun has spoken of becoming a crèche dam, watching the hatchlings while parents hunt and teaching them what she knows." The brightscale's eyes turned to Featherstone. "This is the preytooth with whom you bonded?"

Two Hearts eyed his friend with pride. "This is my flight mate, Featherstone."

The brightscale's head shifted as he took in the sight with each eye. "How does he greet Kin?"

"A foreclaw touching the tip of your nose. Step closer and you will see." The ghostwing was pleased to see both of them eager to make contact yet sensible enough to be cautious with each other.

"We need to speak with you. We have ideas for keeping our nests safe."

Skyflank raised his head to regard his fellow First Hunter. "No more Gatherers? No more fighting among Kin?"

"That is our hope."

There was a pause.

"Our?"

Two Hearts nodded without thinking. "Our path must change. Our safety and that of our hatchlings depends on it." He nudged his flight mate again, getting the humor/happiness sound from him. "We must join nests with the preytooths."

---

(c)Wirewolf 2016 "How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright Dreamworks Animation and used without permission

AN: You know, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that just because this story is almost finished it isn't getting any easier to write. I figured, 'just wrap things up, finish strong and that's it!'

Nope. The story started because I (like Hiccup) asked questions. Now that I'm done answering THOSE questions, I find new questions cropping up. And I have to answer at least SOME of them. Otherwise they'll haunt me forever.

For those interested, Freygerd's song is really a Swedish folk song. If you want to hear it sung or read the original lyrics, just Google 'Vem kan segla' or search for that phrase on YouTube.

One more chapter to go!