Stoick and Hiccup, Astrid and Hiccup and Snotlout.

Berkian Eddur - 2

Winter in Líf's Holt

Long Winter's Start

Lífþrasir

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

― Edith Sitwell

The day had been a long and tiring. Or rather, the things to do had taken long, and tired him out; the day had ended three hours ago. The Winter sun only shone on them for eight hours, now, and he knew that his family had retired some time ago.

His family. It felt so, so beautiful to be able to think that. The words tasted fantastic even unuttered in his mind.

Stoick waved a goodbye and goodnight to some of the other men moving in the direction of their own homes, Stoick's journey being the shortest from the Great Hall after trudging down the long staircase. Another similar day would await them tomorrow, only the morrow would include the even more unpalatable topics.

The Thing was rapidly approaching, and the list of things to do seemed only to lengthen rather than decrease. Construction had already begun on the temporary shelters that would be given to the visiting chiefs, their families and their tribesmen. The Meatheads were coming three ships strong, the Bogs two, and the UglyThugs were facing the journey by dragon in twelve members.

The Beserkers had not yet replied. Stoick bit his upper lip, munching on his mustache as he mounted up the hill to his home, and lamenting the fact that he had to go down the stairs and then up the hill. Hmm, perhaps Hiccup could think of something …

Warmth effused his chest even before he stepped into his fire-lit hall, that thought chasing all the others away. His hall, now very much more lived in, spread around him with all the comforts of home. A pot was unlidded, keeping warm by the grate and effusing it's tempting smell throughout the entire main room. Linens were hanging in front of the other fire - now almost dead - in the washing room, and herbs hooked to dry decorated the cooking area, where a few more fish had taken up residence hanging by their tail. Astrid had evidently been hard at work, and he knew that there were probably more linens and wools hanging to dry in different parts of the house and sheltered outdoors. The warm glow of both fires, the one in the main grate high and healthy, illuminated all the hall and gave a cheery, orange sheen to everything.

She didn't seem to be there, however. It wasn't unusual for chores to take her out of the hall, especially on washday, but this late after sunset was not usual of her. Stoick took his helmet off, hanging it on the hook by the door and sighing thankfully as the weight of it left his head. The cloak was next - the poor thing was in a more lamentable state than usual, seeing as it had missed its chance to be washed this week and the last. But with the Thing at the door, washday had stopped being a resting day for most of Berk.

Stoick collapsed into his stool with a sigh, undoing his braid and scratching his scalp. Some of his hair was still damp, as he'd braided the wet mop right after his bath this morning, so he let it flop onto his back after he shook it out, resting his back against a wall and holding his feet out towards the fire after shucking his boots. Ah .. so much better.

With a stretch, Stoick reached into a side cabinet, taking out his woodwork implements. He usually took some moments in the morning to do his little tinkering, but again that had taken a backseat to other priorities. With a quiet house and a warm fire, though, there was nothing stopping him from indulging in his acquired hobby. He began whittling at a tiny hunk of discarded wood, probably left-over from one of Astrid's more task-oriented works. A ducky began to take shape; his favourite form to carve, and the first one he'd done - he had taken up the hobby in order to fix Gobber's idea of a toy, after all.

Hm, where was Astrid? It wasn't like her to be so tardy. Then again, he wasn't the only one to have a lot to do - apart from her village duties, household and domestic chores, Astrid helped out a great deal with the carpentry. She had taken it up from him, in part, and from Fishlegs, as after he'd married Ruffnut. Astrid had often gone to the twin's new house and helped her ease into her new role. And probably kept her from blowing her new hall up on a daily bases, too. Possibly the girl was right there at the Ingermann boy's new hall, discussing work to be done on the guest lodges. Stoick sighed; she never stopped, even for a moment.

The smell of the food in the pot became overpowering as he finally let go of all the thoughts of the day and relaxed, his back coming out of its many knots. With a quick glance around the hall, he reached for the pot lid, looking in to find a beautiful cut of venison in gravy and winter carrots that made his mouth water. Astrid had come a long way in her cooking; she'd truly been a disaster at first (he did NOT want to remember what she thought was edible, and what she'd originally added to food as 'condiment'), but Brunhilda had been her usual self, soft-hearted but hard-handed task-master, and the girl had taken to the challenge as she took to any challenge; with the knife in her teeth.

And that meat looked so, so tender…

"I wouldn't if I were you."

Stoick actually yelped, and was very glad that Gobber wasn't there to hear it - he'd never hear the end of it. Hiccup was leaning against the door jamb leading into the dragon barn, smirking at him knowingly. Stoick gave him a sheepish chuckle as he scratched the back of his head, making his drying hair stand on end. Hiccup snorted, pushing off the door frame and closing it behind him, then walked, wonderfully even, around to the kegs with a mug in hand he swiped off the shelf on the way.

"One or two blocks?" he asked, and Stoick felt suddenly displaced, and awash in a jumble of emotions. Ever since his son had become mobile again, and had been cleared to fly, Hiccup had been out and about as much as possible, the colder weather seeming not to affect him at all as he made loop-de-loops in the sky, or helped carry the sand sacks to bolster the river banks, or stood for hours on end in the old arena, training - at a more sedate pace, and much more gently - the dragon-Viking pairs that had formed to withstand the Red Death. Moments of quiet domesticity were rare, but when they came with echoes from years passed, they never failed to floor him.

"Wow, you're staring at the wall looking dazed and confused," his son's entertained voice cut into his thoughts, "two blocks it is!"

Stoick gave a snort, but his eyes couldn't help but descend to take a good look at the newer part of his son, shining brightly as it caught the firelight. His stomach felt leaden, and as Hiccup put the mug down in front of him and took the blocks of ice from meat's storage box, the chief had to force a smile, looking away quickly as shame welled in his chest, deep and burning.

That was his fault. He'd done that to his boy. His stubbornness and his obsession with the dragons had first driven his child to choose between his new companion and his tribe, and his neglect and impatience had pushed him off the island. Then Stoick had, single-handedly, almost slaughtered the entire tribe. And Hiccup had had to come in and clean up his mess. Now the result was staring at him in the face, clashing with the simple suede trousers his son favoured, which Astrid steadily provided. His new boot had been hand sewn, and Astrid had even burnt a pattern into the hide, but when Hiccup was the one who took care of his clothing, it tended towards the simple and functional.

It made Stoick wonder, and another gaping hole yawned in his chest. Hiccup rarely spoke of his time away, save when it was to point out things he had learned when he was a guest in the other tribes which would help Berk make smoother negotiations. He never said where he got his strange, split-front tunics, or how he had managed, in very little time, to accumulate a rather considerable amount of wealth, which he'd brought from his island on the first day he'd been allowed to take his dragon to the air. Stoick would never forget the face Brunhilda made when he'd presented her a bolt of cloth he'd called brocaded silk, and told her to do with it what she will as he had no real use for it. The smart woman had immediately fashioned her daughter a rather fetching undergarment, which the girl would probably wear on her wedding night.

He had been generous with his wealth, too. Stoick had, in the end, accepted the large portion Hiccup had given him to join the Haddock household's coffers, but he'd still stored most of it away, so that his son would inherit it once he became the head of the household. And yet, every time the subject was broached, he …

Stoick's eyes went down to his foot again. Speaking with the other heirs, he had learned that Hiccup had been nothing but kind, honourable and hard-working while he had been their guest, which had often happened during the Winters, so it never really made any sense to him to think that his gains had been ill-begotten. Still, his son was a man of many secrets now, and they didn't stop at him having managed to ground, tame, and then fly the most feared dragon of the archipelago.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him start and look up at Hiccup again. He had finally gotten used to his son's face, no longer round-cheeked and soft-looking, but strong and angular, facial hair feathering the bottom part of his cheeks. Hiccup handed him a different keg of ale, and Stoick took it with a thanks as his son sat down. The chief noticed for the first time that Hiccup had picked the keg he'd poured first off the table and was nursing it with a tiny smile, thinking. Another secret, and another milestone missed in his son's life.

"You should really stop, you know," Hiccup said at last, moving his eyes away from contemplating the fire to smile at his father. "Feeling guilty, I mean. What's past is past between us. Let it go, ok?"

Stoick sighed, feeling rather sheepish. It was Val all over again, looking at him through knowing green eyes that sparkled kindly.

"I have, but I cannot help but wish that it hadn't … come to this," he said dejectedly, Hiccup gave him a strange look before his eyes widened in realisation, looking down at his own feet.

=0=

There were a lot of things that Hiccup thought his father had been feeling guilty about, but this was not one of them. The metal shone merrily in the firelight, springs and bobs looking smart after the polishing he'd given them this morning after his bath. And he wasn't going to let his dad feel badly about this; if he had grown used to it, Stoick could too. They were Vikings.

Hiccup looked up at his dad, smiling.

"Oh dad … it wasn't your fault, any more than it was Toothless', or Snotlout's. It was an accident, they happen. I could have lost that foot falling off a cliff or down a well or whatever other stupid thing tends to happen to me." He rolled his eyes at himself, glad when his father chuckled. He'd honestly grown used to his leg after the initial shock. The pain of re-learning to walk hadn't been pleasant, and the fact that Astrid had watched that … but then he'd sat down one night, trying to sketch a better spring-gear for the bloody thing, and his mind had sparked with the immense amount of possibilities the foot could hold.

Within a week, Toothless' flying rig sported so many gears that Astrid had started calling foul play as they won their races with wider and wider margins. The disadvantage had suddenly become his greatest advantage, with hidden tools, a natural metal weapon in and of itself, and even secret compartments in the wooden portion where he could store things he wished no one to know of.

And he couldn't have his dad thinking about it like that and eating away at himself for nothing at all.

So with a resolute twitch of his eyebrows, Hiccup folded his arms and swung his metal leg up into his dad's lap. Stoick almost yelped, which made Hiccup smirk tauntingly at him.

"Go on, dad, it's not going to bite you," he said gently. Stoick looked at him incredulously, as if he'd made a joke during the council meeting again. That had only happened once, by Thor, and his dad had been looking at him and shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief for hours after, just like now. "I mean it," Hiccup said more strongly, taking his father's hand and moving it towards the leg. "Gobber's got one. Mulch, too, and several others. It's an-"

"Occupational Hazzard," Stoick finished, and father and son smiled at each other. Stoick looked down at the foot in his lap, metal warmed through between the body heat and the fire, and he rested his hand over it. Hiccup just took up his keg again and took a sip of ale. "Since when do you drink, then?"

"It keeps you warm," he replied honestly, not the least annoyed when his dad began examining the mechanisms he had added to the never ending project that was foot-improvement. "And really, have you met Thuggory? He's taken competitive drinking to a whole new level. There's no way you can avoid the stuff if he's around."

"He seems fond of you," Stoick said with a nod, taking his own keg up and putting a warm hand on Hiccup's knee.

"He decided I was his little brother ages ago, when were knee-high and getting into trouble at this Thing or other because we did what Cami came up with, remember that?" Hiccup laughed, feeling honestly happy to think of his friend; excitement bloomed in his chest as he thought he would see him again soon. They hadn't met since the battle for Berk, and he was really looking forward to the Thing this time, if only to meet them all in better circumstances. "But I'm never going to get dragged into another drinking game with him. The last time, we went to great lengths to make ourselves utterly ridiculous, and I woke up the next morning in just my britches with war paint all over me, up in the mountains and Toothless sitting on a bear. I still don't know what happened that night."

"Almost got eaten by a bear, apparently," Stoick said with a guffaw.

"Hardly. The poor thing was whimpering horribly and Toothless was using it as a rug." Stoick laughed even harder as he imagined it. "Dragons tend to be at the top of the food-chain, and Toothless… usually tops that too," Hiccup said with a chuckle. "He once fought off a scouldron. A scauldron."

"What in Asgard for!" Stoick asked, putting his mug down.

"She was breathing too close to me, apparently."

Both men laughed, Hiccup glad to see his father's eyes lose their shadow. With a final gulp and a sigh, Stoick pushed his mug away.

"I think I'll turn in," he said tiredly. Hiccup took his foot off his father's lap, but quickly stood up with him, shaking his knee to get it to wake up. Stoick, predictably, faltered and reached to help him, which allowed Hiccup to grab his hand and push an empty bowl into it. "...What?"

Hiccup answered him by cutting and ladeling some meat and gravy into it, reaching around him to break off a piece of whey-bread to go with it.

"Don't sleep before finishing that off. She worked hard on it. Woke up earlier than Toothless to get it going," he said with mock annoyance, then groaned. "I hope she doesn't kill me for touching it, but she did put me in charge of the pot while she's out dealing with all our muck."

Stoick laughed, slapping his back as gently as he could (which meant that Hiccup's teeth rattled). "Hiccup, that girl will forgive you anything!"

Hiccup winced before he could stop himself, looking away. There were a couple of things he was sure weren't that forgivable.

"Son, what is it?" Stoick asked, looking at him earnestly. "Is everything ok, with Astrid?"

Hiccup looked up at him, giving his face a thorough search as he wondered whether Stoick was the right person to speak to about this. But … he really needed advice. And Stoick was his dad. Swallowing down his nervousness, he nodded.

"It's just …" he sighed and looked at the fire, somehow easier than looking at his dad when talking about this. "You know… I mean, it's pretty obvious, how I feel about her, isn't it?"

"Well, how you used to feel was rather obvious, yes," Stoick said. "Not once did she pass you by that your head didn't turn and your feet stumble on themselves. Once you managed to fall over while standing up. I never knew how you did that." A chuckle. "You still feel the same?"

"Oh, pretty much, yeah." Try ten times stronger, with much, much … racier additions to the 'to do with Astrid' list. "I'm just … dad." He looked up at his father as he suddenly couldn't keep it in anymore. "Dad, I don't want her to be trapped."

"What do you mean, son?" Stoick asked, standing straight, warm hand on Hiccup's back.

"This contract." He huffed agitatedly, running a hand through his hair.

"Son," Stoick said worriedly.

"I love her, dad," Hiccup said before he could stop himself. The main room went silent, the fire merrily crackling away. He steeled himself and looked his father in the eye, swallowing uncomfortably. "I want her to be happy. And I … don't want to have her trapped in this … thing. Cooking, cleaning … Astrid's place is … swinging her axe and training others. And on her dragon."

"Hiccup, people change. The things they want change too," Stoick said with a warm voice. "Astrid's not the same lass she was when you left."

"Oh, yes, because I'm sure she's been so happy these last few years, dad."

"But that was, because…"

"Dad, tell me that she's been happy to do all this." He waved a hand towards the main room. "Really happy. That she hasn't been going on walks, or just plain going out hunting, or disappearing off to other places." Hiccup still remembered how she couldn't say that she was happy, when she was talking to 'Cattongue' after a hard day of training the new dragon and rider pairs. 'Not badly-off' sounded remarkably like settling for the best she could get to Hiccup, rather than her having something she wanted. Stoick grimaced, rubbing his face.

"Just … talk to me before you decide anything, lad. The contract's a contract, and we can't be seen to bend such things. You know that better than anyone, with your travels."

Hiccup nodded, shoulders sagging. "Look dad, I'm not … I'm not going to do something stupid, I know that would do her more harm than good. But … I want to know what she wants. She hasn't said a word, and that's not like her. She's always been one to speak her mind, see something she wants, or thinks is good, and off she goes after it. But this? Left it all up to me as if her life is not all that important. Of all things!" He chewed on his lip in frustration. When she'd said that she would be happy to have Hiccup back that time, it had obviously been an attempt to make him talk to her, seeing as she had confronted him with his identity the following morning. "I know you're going to say I should just ask but … oh, call me a coward, but if she's doing all this out of duty, I'd rather … It's been a long five years, dad." He swallowed before admitting, "and she's been on my mind for every moment of it."

"I understand, son," he replied with a knowing look, the same glance in his eyes as he'd had when he'd given Hiccup his helmet, a lifetime ago. At the time Hiccup had been too heartbroken to appreciate it. Now, his chest was equally jumbled and tangled into knots, but he knew to appreciate every single moment he had with his loved ones.

"No dad, I don't think you do. I used to make sacrifices to Lofn sometimes," he said with some shame, rubbing face. "I didn't think even she who intercedes for forbidden marriages could do anything, but I couldn't help …" Stoick's arm pressed more warmly, and Hiccup reached an arm up, almost managing to reach his dad's opposite shoulder.

"It's no shame to love a woman with such devotion," he said gently. "But take it from a man who's actually seen that look in a woman's eyes. I don't think that there's much to do with duty in this. Not in the way she looks at you, and not in the way she touches you either."

Gah! And there went his mind again. The image of her butt-ass naked from that first washday was burned into his mind, refusing to go away and appearing at the most inconvenient moments. Like now. Or like last time, when Astrid was churning the butter, and he'd found himself escaping before he could utterly embarrass himself.

"I … I find that hard to believe. But … ok," he said. Stoick gave him a smile and a nod, moving towards his room with his food.

Hiccup settled down to wait for Astrid.

He'd been debating with himself for a good twenty minutes whether he should go out looking for her when she walked in, laundry basket in hand.

"Oh, Thor, there you are," he said with a sigh. She gave him a strange look as she quickly shut the door behind her. Even though finding kindling wasn't as difficult as it used to be, it was still a waste to let all the nice toasty air out.

"Thought anyone could do anything to me while I carried this?" she said, shrugging the shoulder her axe-head rested against with a grin. Hiccup held his hands up.

"Oh no, not a chance of that," he said with a laugh, although, now that he realised, he still owed her axe repairs. In fact, considering their contract, Hiccup now had a valid reason to give the silver back to her mother. Good, he'd never been a betting man, and he felt uncomfortable taking silver for something he would have done anyway. "I was just worrying that I was going to starve to death."

Astrid's eyes flicked down to the pot, looking suddenly chagrined. "Oh no, you didn't eat? Has Stoick eaten? I'm so sorry, I was at Ruff's and with Woodnut and all, I lost track of time!"

"Hey, it's ok," he said with a smile, sorry to see her so upset. Odin's one eye, he seemed unable to say jokes anymore without them going all crooked. "Dad ate, I took care of that."

"Oh, good. But why didn't you?" she gave him a worried look that made him shudder all over. Astrid, worrying about him. It was rather a selfish dream come true. Then again, smiling would be nicer. Especially on those nice, full lips and-

Concentrate.

"I was waiting for you," he replied with a shrug. Her brows came down in a frown.

"You didn't have to do that," she said, hanging her axe.

"I wanted to. Besides, eating in company is always better," she shook her head and walked up with a smile, kneeling by the pot. "Hey, leave it." Her head shot up in confusion before he took the ladle and made two bowl up, handing her one of them. "You're half soaked, go hang that up before it starts leaching warmth off you."

"Hm, thanks," she said, giving him a spoon for the gravy as she momentarily set hers down on the bench beside his chair. Hiccup couldn't help looking as she took her outer furs off, the tunic underneath snug around her, as even the thicker Winter clothes couldn't hide how beautiful she was. When she reached up and undid her hair, he forced himself to look away. He knew he technically had a right but … she hadn't really given permission in an explicit way yet. And he'd abused of her without her knowing enough already.

She sat beside him with a sigh, legs stretching towards the fire as close as she dared. Her boots came off next, and she wiggled her toes.

"It's pouring again, I take it?" he asked, blowing on a spoonful and sipping. He wiped his knife on his tunic and cut a portion of the venison meat, and it was as tender as he thought it would be. He smiled at her fondly, suddenly ravenous, but he found a moment to complement the food.

"Thanks!" she replied brightly, and he smiled at how she preened. Axe-throwing or cooking, Astrid always had to be the best. "And it's utterly miserable out there. What's worse is that by tomorrow, it will be all ice or sleet."

"Oh, what fun. I sure hope the nails will hold up for traction," he lamented, hitting his foot against the stones base of the fire with sharp clicks.

"You'll do fine. And if you fall …" she took a purposeful bite, "...Toothless can pick you up. Asgard knows I'm too busy washing your socks."

"You have half the amount!" he replied in mock offense, and they both laughed while he took another bite. Humming in approval, he turned to find her looking at him almost greedily. "What, it's good," he said.

"It's hardly that incredible," Astrid chuckled, her face flushed with the firelight. "I still have a lot to learn from mum. No need to make fun of me."

"I'm not! Seriously, have you ever tasted anything I cooked? No, right? Well, it's pretty freaking terrible, and I've had to live on it for most of five years," he chuckled, indicating his bowl. "Honestly, this right here … it's like a little piece of Asgard."

And the fact that she'd made it for him. But he wasn't about to say that; said too much already. She looked at him in speculation for a few moments.

"Was it hard? Out there, I mean," she asked, and Hiccup could see the spark of something in her eyes. Perhaps it was wanderlust. His stomach descended into his feet at the thought of watching her leave on her dragon, but even more so at how harsh it really was out there.

"Yeah, yeah it is," he said, wanting to make absolutely sure that if she did go, she'd at least be more prepared than him. "The first Winter near did me in. Toothless found a few rabbits, because otherwise that would have been the end of the Haddock line." Something warm landed on his knee, and he looked down to find Astrid's hand, squeezing. "You learn your lessons quickly. I was better equipped by the next one."

"You travelled outside of the northern sea, though?" she asked shrewdly. He knew she'd seen some of the things he owned, and they were obviously nothing Viking.

"Hm, the Summer after that terrible Winter. Thought I'd perhaps find somewhere warmer, further South. Again, learned caution the hard way," he said as he fingered his scars. "But at least Freyr had hammered it into my head well by the second try, and I started getting my way about more carefully."

"Are they different, the Southern lands?"

He sat back, remembering. "Oh yeah, different is a good word for them. Green, long, rolling hills, more sunlight than you've ever seen. But hardly any forest, then. I prefer our woods; compared to them, it's a desert."

"A desert?" she repeated, unfamiliar with the word. She took a bite of her own food and munched with a frown.

"Oh, I've only heard of that, didn't venture that far South - I started heading East instead. It's where I traded for most of the goods I got."

"Even the jewellery?" she asked, surprised.

"Especially the jewellery," he replied. "Anyway, a desert is supposed to be this really hot, big empty place where the god of the Eastern Capital lived for a time, and it's nothing but sand and sand for miles on end. Didn't sound like an inviting place."

"No," she said, looking at him curiously.

"What?" he asked around a mouthful of food.

"So, no pillaging? No beautiful lady giving you tokens of love and mementos to remember her by and sigh about later?"

"Ha! Hardly!" he laughed, thinking of sad, practical Sepha, the terribly insistent Bog women, the forge at UglyThug Island and some of Thuggory's cousins who had been a horror to avoid. "But speaking of which, when am I going to get one of those?" he asked leadingly, pointing to a number of small carvings of Thor's hammer strewn on the table. The amulets had come in high demand all of a sudden, for some reason that escaped Hiccup completely, and Astrid had begun making a small income from them that Stoick insisted she keep. She huffed and punched his shoulder, ignoring his protest.

"Still a wuss," she commented with a snicker, to which he pouted, only to watch her laugh harder. "Wait your turn, those are on order! I can barely keep up as it is!"

"What will you take in trade for one, then?" he asked, jokingly. Her eyes flicked downwards to his chin and she opened her mouth, and then thought better of it and buried her face in her bowl.

"I'll do it for free, but you'll have to wait for all the paying ones to be done first," she said with a shake of the head. "Will you believe that Tuff wants one?"

"Tuff? Tuffnut? Oh, no way," he laughed. "Whatever for!"

"I think he's going to be courting soon," she replied, a strange smile on her face. "He'll want good luck if he fails, and protection if he succeeds."

"She has many brothers then?" He paused. "Oi, should I worry?" he said before he could stop himself. She laughed, slapping his arm again, and he was grateful that she didn't look upset at the hint of his emotions towards her.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's Cami!"

"Oh no, you've got to be kidding me!"

"Not at all! Oh, you should have seen him, polishing all his armour and begging us to call him 'the destroyer' when she comes!"

They cracked up, and Hiccup just couldn't get enough of seeing her laugh as she began speaking animatedly of all the deviously horrid plans to embarrass him Ruffnut had in mind. The evening wore on to a close on that high note, with Astrid still chuckling as she rose up the stairs to the room that had now become hers.

As he lay back, Hiccup could breathe a sigh of relief that Tuffnut Thorston, at least, was not competition. The Great Wild Beyond, or the Great Warrior Within, however, perhaps still was.

=0=

Snotlout would admit, at least now, that he was a hard man to love. At least, hard enough to associate with without a punch to the face. But they were Vikings, and a punch to the face was practically equivalent to a 'Good Morning'.

Which is why he didn't mind so much when he got a pebble thrown at his face by his cousin.

"Concentrate, Snotlout! We don't have all day!" Hiccup said with a laugh, ignoring the larger man's shaken fist. They were lugging around wood for the temporary huts, keeping with the lighter forms and cutting them into manageable sizes to carry. Hiccup had put his lessons with the dragons on pause to help out, as the lizards' superior strength really began to make a difference in the amount of work they could pull off in a day.

It had been a long time since Snotlout found himself enjoying the company of others so much. He'd somehow turned his head stupid with ideas that were only buzzing between his ears, and he's almost lost all his friends for them. And when Hiccup had lost that foot…

His father may not have agreed, but Snotlout had been hit hard by the Meathead heir's words. Snotlout had turned away from the task assigned to him on the day of the battle out of spite, and because of this, the island had had to scramble to fill the void, and Hiccup had had to go out headlong into battle, facing the monstrous dragon, and losing a leg in the process.

He hadn't said anything to his father, as he had been sure that Spitelout would have tied him up rather than let him go through with it, but as soon as his cousin had been conscious long enough to hold a conversation, Snotlout had asked for a private talk with him, where he'd gone to knee and practically offered himself as a Thrall. There had never been any love lost between them, but the way that Thuggory had spoken to Snotlout, and to Spitelout because of him, had made him feel shamed and beyond useless. He'd looked at what was left of his only cousin from his father's side, son of Aunt Val and great hero of Berk, and felt that if he'd ever done anything with himself, it was to do all he could to make that right. He couldn't make the leg grow back - not if he prayed to Loki or any of the gods - but he could at least appease the thoughts that kept him up at night while his cousin almost died with the fever consuming him, while watching Astrid find a quiet corner to cry, and watching Stoick, and Gobber, and other tribe's faces every time the news worsened.

Hiccup hadn't been amused. He'd received a stern talking to, a clap around the ears, and the order to get off his knees, you oaf. Hiccup had made him understand that he was mad at Snotlout, on no unclear terms furious, but it was his treatment of Astrid that had been discussed, and nothing else. As far as he was concerned, the battle and its results had been in the hands of the gods, and he was glad for it; said that if he could trade a foot for his own life and the safety of the village every time, he would do it in an instant.

Snotlout had left that conversation with two firm convictions; the village would be damn lucky to have Hiccup for a chief one day, and Snotlout would follow him to the ends of the earth and into the mouths of sea-serpents if he commanded it. The second was that there were a number of things his cousin pardoned, readily and without a grudge, and some other things that he did not. Snotlout's treatment of Astrid was one of them, and the burly young man had realised in the subsequent weeks that whatever designs he'd had on the blonde had better be forgotten, and soon. Not only was Astrid protective, vicious and attentive as any wife or mother he'd ever seen wherever Hiccup was concerned, but the way his cousin looked at the woman could be mistaken for nothing else. Astrid already belonged to him by right, and Hiccup would be a fool to let her go, not when he obviously cared for her.

So he'd taken to shadowing his cousin, going where he went and trying to be as useful as possible as a way to atone. Right now, both men had shed their furs and were handling the logs in only their tunics, the heat of activity negating the dry cold around them.

"We need this load back to the workshop near the Old Gate," Fishlegs said, pausing and ticking something off on a list he carried around with him. "Those are for the Boggies."

"Nobody tell Tuff," Hiccup snickered, and Fishlegs snorted. Snotlout looked at the two men in askance. "Oh, don't tell me you don't know," Hiccup said, his face suddenly gleeful. He exchanged a look with Fishlegs, who shrugged. "Tuff's got a thing for Cami,"

"The Bog she-demon?" Snotlout said incredulously, almost dropping his log.

"Don't let anyone outside Berk hear you say that," Fishlegs admonished, picking up a log of his own with one arm. Psh, showoff. "You'll cause a diplomatic incident."

"No you won't," Hiccup replied with a laugh, carrying the log easily enough despite his metal leg. Toothless was giving him worried glances, but Snotlout had learned that the dragon often just did that because his cousin was prone to fall over randomly. No surprise there. "I think Cami would take it as a complement. In fact, I think you should pass that on to Tuff. She'd be flattered."

"Oh boy, she's Tuff's type alright," Snotlout remarked, and the other two men burst out laughing. The feeling of camaraderie was incredible, and Snotlout hadn't realised how much he'd missed it.

"Can you seriously imagine what it would have been like had those three met when they were younger?" Hiccup mused. "Thug and I were forever getting into trouble because Cami came up with some scheme or other while the Thing was going on. I remember one time she decided to steal the underpants off every chief during the night, and then hang them like a flag on top of the masts. That meeting … phew, we avoided the war that time because Freyr wasn't in the mood, because I tell you, Brawlknife wanted to skin her and wear her as trousers. Bertha just laughed and told them to get them down like men."

"Oh yeah, isn't that how the pant-pole competition was born?" Fishlegs remembered, and Snotlout joined in the snickering this time. It was always entertaining to watch the full-grown men and women trying to run up a lard-slicked pole to catch the pants at the end of it.

"We won't be getting any of those activities on this one though," Hiccup said mournfully, stopping to let a couple of children pass as they chased one another across the path. "Hoy, Gustav! Watch the ice! Anyway, the Winter Things tend to have indoor activities. Arm-wrestling, sheep tossing, a good old-fashioned eating competition…"

"With the food fight!" Snotlout put in happily. Man he loved the food fights in feasts and weddings.

"Oh yeah! That's going to be entertaining this year, now that all the dragons can be let out. The terrors are going to think they're in Asgard." They laughed uproariously, "And of course, there's the dancing…" All three men looked at each other in horrified resignation.

"Darn, you can get out of it, though," Snotlout said with a pout. Hiccup raised a brow. "Plead the foot, man."

Hiccup's other brow rose incredulously. "Oh, sure, especially after I've been doing this all day." He shrugged a shoulder with the log on it. "That'd make sense."

"But nobody has to know," he said, seeing an opening to help. "Here," he took the log, "Now we walk the rest of the way, and just take Fishlegs' list, and we're good to go!"

"You just want to look awesome carrying two logs," Hiccup drawled even as he took Fishlegs' list and they kept walking towards the Old Gate.

"What are you talking about," Snotlout said with mock arrogance. "I'm already awesome!"

"Yeah, that's why you're still single, mutton-head," Ruffnut said as she came up beside them. Woodnut was strapped to her back and she was carrying a basket of bread and a flask. Astrid walked up a moment later, carrying two smoked hams.

"Any of those for us?" Fishlegs asked hopefully. Ruffnut elbowed him lightly.

"These are the welcome meals we're putting in the halls you're building, you gronkle-brain," she told him. Then she added with a smirk. "You'll get yours when you get home."

"Yes!" Fishlegs said, puffing his chest out. "I knew I had an awesome wife!"

"And don't you know it," Ruffnut replied with a frown and a waved finger under his nose. Had she not had the little baby strapped to her, and without the two logs on Fishlegs' shoulders, she'd probably have tackled him to the ground for a good old tussle.

"Well, most of it," Astrid said with a laugh, coming around the married couple to them. "Your mother asked me to bring you this, Snotlout," slipping a food-smelling linen package into his vest pocket as both his hands were occupied. "And this one's for you," she went on, turning to Hiccup and folding another linen package against his chest. Man, Hiccup was a lucky bastard. To have Astrid Hofferson looking up at him like that … and of course, he was blushing and looking away like an idiot. Because of course he wouldn't just swoop down and kiss her.

"What are you giving him that for!" Snotlout broke in before Astrid's smile could disappear, lifting the logs higher with a smirk. Really, Hiccup needed some woman-tips from the Snotman. "I'm doing all the work, he's just … standing around ticking lists!"

"Don't you try that with me, Jorgenson," Astrid said, but at least she was smiling. Then she turned to Hiccup with a stern look. "I saw you pass the log to hot-air over there, so I know you were over-exerting yourself. Again." She actually brought her hands up and put them on Hiccup's waist, stepping forward and for all intents and purposes, hugging him in public.

And what did Hiccup do? Grimace and look totally guilty until Astrid just shook her head (admittedly, somewhat fondly, but still) and moved away, making Hiccup grab for his lunch that was no longer squished between them. Snotlout exchanged a look with Hiccup's dragon, and they both rolled their eyes.

Gods, the idiot needed a wing-man, bad.

Thank goodness Snotlout was available for the job!

=0=

Second prologue! Chapter 1 is next. Setting up the chess pieces is always so much fun. The first stirrings of the central conflict can be tasted here, the undercurrents of which will be felt through the whole story.

And Snotlout is a self-appointed wingman. Nothing can go wrong with that. The Snot Man's on the job.