Of course, things start looking up, and then …

A slight warning: Some discussion of sexual activities between adults.

Berkian Eddur - 2

Winter in Líf's Holt

Chapter 4 - Breaking

Indeed- why should I not admit it? - at that moment, my heart was breaking.

― Kazuo Ishiguro

For the second time that week, Astrid practically raced home. She was feeling awfully stupid; she hadn't behaved like this since she was a child, and had received that first axe which had made her so happy. For a few weeks, she had been so sure the lightness in her chest would be enough to allow her to fly if she ran fast enough. This was almost a similar feeling, though it seemed magnified - and it was almost completely due to Hiccup.

The axe had already been a beautiful, beautiful surprise. Whoever she showed it off to give her an envious glance, then a knowing one, and she couldn't help but crave both looks and their covert meaning. When she'd found the rune blessings' existence, she'd spent hours, unable to sleep, looking at them in her room in the candlelight, and peeking out through the reed wall down at his curtain. Now this...

Upon arriving at the hall, she realised immediately that Stoick wasn't there - the helmet wasn't on the hook, and the bear cloak wasn't next to it. He may not be back from the farm inspection yet - or else the racket coming from the bathing room had driven him right back out.

Astrid's elation faded slightly as she closed the door quietly and tiptoed towards the bathing room's open door. She spotted Hiccup right away in the small room, kneeling on his good knee as he hammered away at a cylindrical container he was affixing to the tub. Astrid waited for him to stop hammering to wipe his brow before she spoke up.

"So what's that for?" she asked, and it was so very gratifying when he yelped and fell backwards onto his (shapely) butt, then huffed and gave her a look of mild annoyance through his lashes.

Damn him, that looked good on him too.

"Are you going to answer my question, dragon boy?" she said, walking in and resting against the tub wall. Up close, it looked like a container for scrolls. "Planning to read while we're in the bath?"

The colour that rose to his face was almost more gratifying than how his eyes ran down from her face to her boots. She did her best not to shiver, and just gave him a smirk and a hands-up, which he took with a smile.

"About that," he said, rubbing the back of his head while looking down sheepishly, in much the same way Stoick did sometimes. It looked so very strange on the large fighter the chief was, but it really fitted him. "Um, well…" She tilted her head to try to see his face, and his eyes sneaked upwards to hers again - and he went redder. Freya, she could do this all day. She was really beginning to understand what the appeal of this whole 'flirting' thing was. The power rush was incredible.

"Are you telling me what this is for, then?" she asked again, giving the cylinder a gentle knock.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" He fiddled with the top and it came away, revealing the wooden tube to be hollow and to have a woolen sock inside. "This is for the foot. That way, it can stay as dry as possible while I'm in here."

"That's a really good idea," she replied, sticking her hand inside the tube to feel soft, dry interior. "Won't the sock get wet, though?"

"Nah, the lid seals it off completely. I put some tree gum around the edge, see?" She took the lid from him, running her thumb over the edges to find the smoothed tree gum1. She put the lid in place and pushed, and it slid in with some resistance, then stuck.

"This really is a good idea… it could be used on ships too. To stop things from getting damp that really shouldn't, like the maps or the food."

"That's … I hadn't thought of that!" he said, grinning, and she grinned back, stepping closer to him.

"See, I told you that you'd get your drive back," she said, sticking her pinky into his belly. He was only wearing his tunic, the laces at the top undone too, so her fingers met only wool and hard muscle. He danced away from her and rubbed his belly, pouting, and she had to stop herself from snorting at him. His eyes flickered across the room, and hers followed, only to find that the tube wasn't the only modification he had made. There were rails along the stairs, another on one side of the tub, and one rod rail against the wall, set very low and and diagonally. "What's all that?"

"Well, funny you should mention my drive and all," he said, his grin returning. He took her hand abruptly and she was startled enough at his uncharacteristic forwardness to let him pull her to the foot of the stairs beside him. "I've been thinking about what you told me a lot, Astrid. About how I should just get back into the game but … not push it?" She nodded at him, almost absently. The glance he was giving her was a lovely one; he looked confident in that moment, and his eyes were dancing with that light that used to precede disasters, but that now meant another stroke of genius was about to hit Berk. Or her, in this case. "Well, I thought this was the safest environment to try. With all these, I can bathe on my own starting tomorrow!"

"What?" she asked, suddenly feeling horrified, and all those lovely feelings she'd just been stoking in her chest tumbling into a cold bucket of water.

"Don't worry about it," he said, holding his free hand up. "I won't be getting my bad leg wet. I tested it out, and everything works. Look, I'll show you…"

Astrid stared, rather dumbfounded as he sat down on a new stool by the tube she'd missed and unlaced his leg. With a bit of effort (and his forearm muscle flexing for the effort, she hated to notice) he pulled the lid off the tube and let his metal foot drop into it, replacing the lid. He reached for his tunic, then stopped himself when he saw her eyes following the movement.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his voice, "Now I grab here -" he reached behind him where the rail for the steps was and hauled himself standing with surprising steadiness. Between hopping and maneuvering himself up the rail, he managed the two steps (arguably three, with the log on the in-step) by using the rail on either side of him like crutches, then turned to sit on the rim, reach behind him again and haul himself on the stool inside the bath. Still holding onto the railing against the closest bath wall for balance, he swung the good leg over, and then looked at her triumphantly.

"Tara!" he said with a flourish, his cheeks flushed from the exertion and his breath slightly short. Astrid merely blinked at him, and he faltered slightly. "Er … I know I probably looked rather stupid but - I didn't fall once!"

"And what about when things are all wet?" she asked before she could stop himself. He gave her a smirk that was rather cheeky, and her cheeks twitched, despite the sinking feelings in her chest.

"I've thought of that. Dad will have wet a number of linens to dry himself already and I can spread those on the floor. Hopefully they won't get too dirty. For you, I mean. But I can lend a hand to wash them later." He was looking at her hopefully through his lashes again, a half smile still pulling one side of his lips upwards. "Look, I know this is ambitious, and you're worried." He stood up again, and hopped down in the same way he'd gone up, resting on the rail to face her. Astrid's hands automatically came up to steady him, and for a single moment she froze, suddenly feeling that the action had been unwelcome. That the progress she'd thought they were making wasn't really happening at all. Her eyes flicked to the tub, where she'd hoped to talk … tomorrow, she had hoped, after he'd given her such a beautiful thing like comfort when she was upset, and that axe, covered in all those lovely words that carried so much promise of …

"Astrid," he whispered. She looked at him. "I really need to do this. For myself. I'll …" he seemed to falter, then he swallowed hard. "I'll leave the door ajar, and if I need, I'll call you. I swear I will. I'm still not completely there yet, I know I'm not, but I need to feel that I'm on the road, at least." One of his hands cupped her cheek. "You've been helping me so much, Astrid. I …"

And then he was kissing her, and something passed over her skin, like she'd touched a lightning eel, all the way down to her toes. It was brief, only a touch of his lips on hers in the same way that she had kissed him a few days ago. But it was enough for her to memorise his scent when he was that close, to feel his breath on her cheek, to notice that he had so many more freckles now, and that his lips felt different when he kissed her.

He moved away, and she opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) to find a shamefaced look.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have…" She had no idea what to say; no words at all where coming to her head in the jumbled mess of emotions her chest was left with. But she didn't want him to think that he had been unwelcome - she wanted him to do that again. So she stepped forwards, slid her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. His heart was beating rapidly against her ear, which gave a bit of solace as her own was trying to beat its way out of his chest. One arm still rested on the railing, but the other curled around her shoulders. Taking courage, Astrid steadied him with one arm and reached out with the other to remove his grip on the rail altogether.

He gave a slight yelp of protest as he found himself suddenly unsteady, his prosthetic leg still in its tube. Astrid just looked up at him wordlessly and he stopped, letting her guide his arm to her shoulder as well.

"You know I don't mind, right?" she said quietly

"You mean … er… what do you mean?" he asked, looking flustered. She couldn't help smiling slightly.

"I don't mind helping you. It's really …" … the least she could do? No, that didn't sound right. What she wanted to do? No, that felt like complete exposure of everything that was roiling in her chest like a maelstrom.

"And, um," he went on before she could decide, running the pad of a finger over her lips. The contact once again made all her skin come alive. "You- you minded that?"

She still didn't really know what to say, but the worried look in his eyes simply tugged at her. Very carefully, since she was the one holding both of them up, she rose to her tiptoes. He met her halfway, and this time their lips lingered, sending tingling sensations from her lips to the rest of her. One of his hands found its way to the back of her head, and she had to consciously remind herself that she was holding them up, that she couldn't lean into him, and that she certainly couldn't let her knees go weak as they were definitely threatening to do.

His lips were moving over hers so gently, and she realised that she was being kissed - really kissed - for the first time. His arm remained on her shoulders, his hand in her hair, but just his fingers massaging her skin gently was making her feel the temperature in the room rise as if the bath was full and steam was misting everywhere.

Her chest gave a twinge. She wouldn't be here with him tomorrow. She wasn't even sure why it hurt her so much that she wouldn't be, but she did press him closer to her, trying to compensate for that closeness she always felt with him on washdays. Some of the things her mother and Ruff told her about men began to flit through her mind unbidden, and her hand fisted into the back of his tunic as the temperature in the room got hotter. He shifted against her slightly, the arm holding himself up around her shoulders became an iron band, and she almost gasped when the hand on her head brushed her ear shell.

"Odin's beard! This blasted rain!"

A gust of cold wind swept through the house, and in clear view of the bathing room, Stoick walked in, brushing water droplets off himself. Colour of a different kind bloomed on her cheeks and they both scrambled away from each other.

Only, both of them had suddenly forgotten that his leg was still out on the count. With a yelp, Hiccup fell over, arse-over-teakettle, and ended up with his one good foot up in the air and his bad leg resting against the railing, while Astrid first stepped back, then ended up scrambling as she tried and failed to hold him up. The feeling in her chest roiled with something hilarious and happy before it was jumbled in embarrassment again.

"Holy Frigga, are you both alright?" Stoick was at the door, completely blocking the entrance, and looking at them with a perplexed and worried expression. Astrid looked down at Hiccup, lying flat on his back with his legs up in the air against the rail and blinking at her, and judging by how hot her face felt, she must look as red as he was.

Before she knew it, she was laughing as she knelt to help Hiccup up, sitting him down on a stair and retrieving his foot.

"Hiccup was … showing me how things work," she said with a cheeky grin she spared him as she threw his foot at him. He grinned back at her, still terribly red in the face in a way that gave them away completely, and she walked around Stoick to get to the fire-pit and put the pot of soup over it to warm.

She smiled at Toothless, who came up to but his head against her shoulder. He gave her a look that was a little too knowing, and the embarrassment and confusion returned full-force.

"You saw all that?" she whispered, trying for affronted but ending up sounding horrified. The cunning look in his eyes increased as they went half lidded and his vocalisation turned into a hum, his snout nudging her slightly in the shoulder. She bit her lip, turning to look at Hiccup explaining the bath improvements to Stoick.

Hiccup had first cut off one of the only moments in the whole week where they were together, alone, for a consistent amount of time in what looked like a permanent fashion, and then he had kissed her - really kissed her - right after. A part of her understood that he needed it - his grin had been bright as he told her, his eyes shining with that usual vacant look of inner thoughts passing too quickly to explain to someone else. For some reason, she couldn't feel glad for him, but she couldn't deny him his wish, either. And she … couldn't voice her disappointment; it made no sense.

She didn't have a real reason to be sad. He had kissed her in a way she … she could only hope. Astrid felt selfish even to nurture the thoughts of how much she wanted him to take the rest of it back. Obviously, it wasn't that he didn't enjoy her company, or that he didn't look forward to having a long, uninterrupted stretch of time where it was only him and her, finding each other after so long, reconnecting and learning the new and familiar person the other had become. Possibly he still wanted that. Maybe he'd make time in their week elsewhere, as she had been doing - dropping off his lunch, passing by the forge, going to the council meetings with him even though it was not strictly required of her anymore - and those moments between them in the tub could be found elsewhere.

Maybe he'd be less tense, too; he seemed always so … put out, to be undressed around her. And his reaction to her undressed … she had best not think about that. She'd hated to admit it, even to herself, but that reaction had given her doubts about herself she had never had before and which she was not altogether comfortable admitting existed. She was still a Viking first, a woman second sometimes, and so she put them away. Astrid looked back, finding Hiccup giving his father a demonstration of the new additions in the same way he'd given her and then she got up and went to the cooking section of the hall.

Toothless followed her and nudged her when she stopped to stare aimlessly at the bowls in her hand, but she couldn't shake the thoughts off. Washday had always been special to her; her mother's stories had filled her head as a child, and even with his tense attitude, they had been moments of quiet intimacy for her, where to get to know her future husband. Become acquainted with his body, but also his mind, the same old thoughts and ways of kindness he'd had before, but also the new things, the character traits he had acquired over the past five years of travel and adventures. A new hardness here and there, aided by his natural stubbornness; a greater patience and less of an impulse to rush headlong into his ideas without testing them properly first. The edge of experience, irreplaceable except with itself, that made his hands move faster and his mind think clearer. The set of his chin and his jawline as he gnawed on a wooden pencil-end; his lips when he pouted; hair, dry or wet or full of soap; his eyes when he looked at her shyly.

She swallowed a lump, scratching Toothless who bumped her again, and sneaking him a fish Hiccup would no doubt grumble at her for. And his dragon had seen her being kissed for the first time and was giving her a look worthy of Ruffnut for it. Brilliant.

But despite what she told herself, despite how her lips still tingled and she tried to re-immerse herself in the memory of him kissing her so sweetly, rather than in the fact that he'd cut off one of their only solitary, intimate moments in their schedules, she couldn't manage it. The elation from the kiss was undercut by the thought of tomorrow, and no matter how she looked at it, she couldn't help but feel shortchanged.

When he came out of the bathing room, still talking with his dad and waving his arms around in that manner singular to him as he animatedly told him of further improvements he meant to make to his foot and flying gear, she also knew with certainty that she wouldn't tell him any of this. He looked too happy right now, sneaking glances her way with a grin on his face, his happiness seemingly undamaged by the loss of their quiet alone-time. And he was so glad, to regain another section of his independence and autonomy. He was already walking straighter, head held higher. She couldn't take that away from him, because if she said anything to him now, she knew he was kind enough to put his wishes aside, and let her help him at the cost of his own feelings of self-worth. That she couldn't do.

And she … she couldn't admit it to him, too. It was hard enough to admit to herself, that a softer, delicate part of her existed somewhere in her chest, and that it had begun to depend on his closeness and his attention. She hated that she found herself hoping his eyes would turn her way when they were in the same room, or that she stopped to listen every time he laughed. She hated that this new part of her grew larger and larger when he was close; smiling and smelling of wild chicory.

Most of all, she hated how vulnerable it was. How right now, with just a few words, it was left bruised and rubbed raw, small spots of blood blooming along the surface. This new place inside her, born who knows how long ago, had been growing so much bigger, especially since he had come back with all his sweet kindness. And she wasn't sure she was ready to tell him he had this much power over her - that she was this weak, and he had this much obligation towards her as a result.

She brought the bowls to the fire-pit, stirring the soup so it heated evenly then ladling it and handing them out. When she gave Hiccup his own bowl he looked at her bashfully, quickly averting his eyes to his father in a way he used to do very often when he was younger. The confusion in her chest increased as his attention became completely taken by what his father was saying as he sipped his food. He didn't look at her again.

So she sat on the opposite end of the fire pit, Toothless coming to sit beside her, instead of his rider, as if to keep her company as she drowned within her own chest. She looked at him all night across the muted flames, but he rarely looked at her. The axe on her back felt like a dead weight, and she suddenly remembered 'the most beautiful woman in Midgard', who she had stupidly forgotten in the slight glow of the recent days. By the time her soup bowl was empty, the only thing left in her chest was a dull sort of sadness.

=0=

Stains were aggressively attacked, soap first being rubbed into the linen and then two river stones of the right size being applied vigorously, one on each side of the fabric as they are rubbed hard enough to lather and then take any stain out of the cloth.

It was a ritual she had performed for her entire life. Every week, washday came around, and every week it was the same. Since she could walk, she had been dragged to the riverside to watch as the task was carried out, or carry out the task herself. And then (finally!) she had been the one doing the dragging, taking her sweet, smart-eyed girl-child with her to the river bank, starting her own tradition. It had always been such a solitary task for her since her mother and Hacknee's had passed on, and since she had never invited her daughters-in- law into the circle of her riverbank spot, it hadn't stopped being a very tiring and lonesome chore until her sweet Astrid had joined in.

It was a ritual in womanhood, as well. Everyone on Berk was a warrior to a certain extent. They were Vikings, it was impossible not to be. Women though also had the domestic chores on top of everything else, and it was sometimes just as tiring as taking on a pack of gronkles. But the circle of women, sometimes family, sometimes close-to, who always banded together with an excuse of helping each other sort through their dirty clothes made it more than worth it. Each circle had its spot beside the river, its customs and rituals and in-jokes. And most importantly, each circle was tight knit, so that everyone had a least one person to confide in, to ask advice of, and receive comfort, support, or even an invite to the hall later for a good round of ale tankards. Laundry was shared (and covered for, when illness or motherhood sapped a member of the circle of time and energy) as well as other chores, but the comfort of company and trustworthy battle-sisters to share everything from gossip to grieving to sword sharpening techniques and tad-bits about lovemaking with was what had kept these little 'secret' systems running.

Brunhilda attacked her laundry with much more gusto this morning. Their patch of Winter sun along the freezing river water - helpfully made tolerable by Astrid's darling nadder shooting fire into it a little upstream - was peaceful and unusually quiet.

Well, Astrid was quiet. Ruffnut was relating a rather interesting story, actually.

"And then he whined," the girl cackled evilly, stopping in her splashy rinsing of a nightgown to grab a sleeve and give it a rather graphic tug. "All I had to do was tilt it a bit upwards and tug slower and he was flopping like a shark on a deck."

"You don't say," Bruhilda said, interested despite herself. She'd have to try that on the old husband. With all the little children and married couples they had in the hall, there was little chance to be alone long enough for the full deal. But a nice warm-up session never hurt anyone. The wife in her was enthusiastic - she hadn't surprised her dear man with something a little spicey like this in a while, and he had been too busy recently hauling in as much fish as their boats could carry with their sons to even be home long enough, let alone think up some nice solitary interlude between them. And now, they had a son less to help, so the trip would be more arduous. The mother in her, on the other hand, glanced at Astrid worriedly as her little girl attacked a stain on one of Stoick's inner tunics more aggressively.

Brunhilda had come to pick up her daughter that morning just on time to see Astrid sitting against Toothless by the firepit peeling onions, looking worriedly at the door of the bathing room. Just as Brunhilda slipped her head in, as she usually did, Hiccup opened the bathing room door and came out, looking clean and fresh, while Astrid's hair was already drying against the fire's heat. It had seemed odd and incongruous, as it had seemed to suggest that Astrid had not been in the room with him when she knew the girl washed last. When Astrid had explained on the way to Ruff's, her mother's heart had gone out to her.

The boy meant well, but he was an idiot. He apparently couldn't see that in order to validate his own independence and to try to find his way back to his feet again, he was undermining Astrid's role in the household and in the village significantly, if word of this got out. And while Astrid didn't only need her role of future wife and caregiver in order to have a voice on Berk - she was still a warrior, as they all were and would grab an axe at the drop of a hat; she was still a very good carver, helping out wherever was needed in the finer arts of wooden implements; she still took patrols and defence positions when the rotation required it. But Astrid was also a woman and a future wife, and as the only female member of Stoick's household, it was normal for her to carry out those chores which were required. That her future husband was denying her one of them left her in a false position and …

"Awright, out with it. Which yak got your tongue?" Ruff said finally. Apparently, Brunhilda had been lost in thought long enough for Ruffnut to become annoyed at the pretense of tiptoeing around a morose Astrid and pretending not to notice. "I swear, if you jumped him and he said no, I'll cull his balls for you."

"What?" Astrid asked, startled. Ruff frowned at her.

"What, you think we didn't notice you had … other intentions, yesterday?" Ruff replied in a flat voice, and Brunhilda looked at her daughters with interest. Astrid hadn't told her this. "After Fishlegs found that rune poetry crap in your axe, you looked about ready to go find him and have him against a wall."

"Ruffnut!" Astrid choked out.

"What runes?" Brunhilda asked. Ruffnut grinned wolfishly at her.

"Apparently, lover boy is too much of a wuss to tell her things to her face, so he hid a lot of romantic crap on her axe that you can only see if you hold it to the light juuuust right. Let me show you."

Before Astrid could prevent it, Ruff reached over and plucked the axe right out of her back holster; then the taller girl stopped short.

"Wha … this is your old axe - I mean, your old old axe, the one Gobber made for you so you wouldn't ruin Hiccup's while he was away!" Ruffnut exchanged a dismayed look with Brunhilda. "Whoa, how bad did it go?"

Astrid didn't answer, and simply beat at the linen more vigorously.

"Did he tell you he's into men, or something?" She was instantly punched in the face. "OW! Well, it can't be that bad, then."

"It really isn't too bad, deary," Brunhilda said with a shrug. "Once he gets over this burst of independence, he'll change his mind."

"What? What, what?" Ruffnut looked mightily annoyed. Woodnut, strapped to her back, gave a whine and her mother glared back at her. "Mother's talking, little gas monster. Give it a minute."

"He's found a way to bathe on his own," Brunhilda clarified since Astrid didn't look inclined to speak at all. "And seeing as he seems to have managed well enough this morning, there will probably not be another shared bath until they're good and married."

"Huh," Ruffnut said. "I can see how that can be annoying, just as soon as she decided to jump his bones."

"Ruffnut, I swear, I'm in no mood for it," Astrid said through gritted teeth. Brunhilda winced; Stoick had better have a spare tunic, because that one was sure to have a hole by now.

"You were last night, or I'm not married," Ruff replied uncaring of Astrid's implied threat. "But oi, what excuse did he give for being so shy?"

"...What?" Brunhilda asked.

"Shy," Ruffnut said again as if they were both stupid. "Like my Fishlegs."

Brunhilda could almost hear her own mother in her ears; 'you are smart, Hilda my girl, but you certainly also are stupid.'

"Oh, that's so obvious," Brunhilda groaned, slapping her girl's shoulder. "Go on, tell us all of it, then."

"But …"

"Astrid."

She pouted, but let up on the tunic (which was still miraculously intact, though probably considerably thinner in that spot), dunking it into the river to rinse. "I said most of it. He just straight up told me he needed to feel like he was doing something with himself again, and hopped around sho-"

"Details," Ruffnut interrupted in a sing-song voice. Brunhilda smirked, because Astrid didn't tackle the other girl only because of the baby strapped to her back, and Ruff knew it well; the anger was spurring Astrid on like a charm.

"Fine! So I walk in, surprise him, he falls over on his arse." Ruffnut's grin widened. "And yes, yes; I looked, and it's great, ok?" Astrid seemed suddenly distracted by more than anger. "It's even greater unclothed."

"I knew you had it in you," Ruffnut taunted, deftly avoiding a swipe to the head. "Then you helped him 'get up'?"

"Why do you have to make everything sound … dirty?" Astrid huffed. Brunhilda was too entertained to interrupt. Astrid began wringing the massive tunic and went on. "He started showing me the stuff he'd added. The container for his leg, the place where he'd sit down to undress-"

"Did that part enter the demonstration, too?"

This time Astrid blushed slightly, and even smiled a little. Brunhilda smirked at Ruff behind her back.

"Almost. He got carried away and reached for his tunic, and then he went all red and almost started stuttering again."

"See, I told you," Ruffnut snorted. "Those baths with you must have been torture for him."

"What do you mean?" Astrid's tone was clearly dismayed.

"Look, I never told anyone this, because Fishlegs totally begged me not to … but our wedding night was a disaster. With the parents outside our room listening, and there I was, getting all hot and bothered." A dreamy expression came over her face, one usually reserved for raptures of destruction. Well perhaps this was the case too. "First time I stuck my hand down his trousers, he jumped so hard he ended up holding onto one of the rafters, and then he wouldn't come down and I had to beat him down with a broom."

"What?" Astrid said, and she was laughing at the image despite herself. Brunhilda, for all her age, wasn't able to hold in the chuckles either.

"Oh yes, I had to corner him at the end of the bed and have my way with him. I thought it was because it was arranged, and he didn't like me at all, but when he saw me getting upset he just tried to tell me he didn't know what he was doing, and from the way he was going red as a nightmare and swallowing his own words, I finally gathered that he was just all-around shy. And we both know Fishlegs wasn't the only guy our age who went red and bit his tongue around girls."

Brunhilda nodded through her laughs. "You know dear, I think she makes a fair point."

"True but … I'm sure Hiccup's not … you know … inexperienced. He's been away for five years."

"Aye that's true, but that doesn't seem to have taken his shyness from him." Brunhilda nudged her. "Well, go on? Tell us the rest of it, girl."

"Oh, well, I, um … protested a bit. And then he …" Astrid's face twisted into something worried and confused, and Brunhilda's fear for her little girl spiked. What had he said to make her look that hurt?

"He what? I didn't hear it with gas-brain fussing here," Ruff said indelicately, bringing the baby sling to the front to give her a teat.

"He… he kissed me."

"Eh?!"

Brunhilda gave her daughter a twack on the head. "You didn't tell me that!"

"Like, peck on the cheek, kissed you, or full on tongue-down-your-throat type of kiss?" Ruffnut asked with … did that girl wiggle her brows like Gobber sometimes did? She'd have to make sure to tell the man it was catching on.

"Neither," a very red and almost sheepish Astrid replied. Brunhilda nearly blinked at her; who knew, her daughter - one of the foremost fighters of her generation - reduced to girlish behaviours by a slip of a man. The poor darling really was lost. "He just, held me close and kissed me … for a good bit."

"How long's a 'good bit'?" Brunhilda asked, looking at her daughter knowingly.

"I, um … don't really know?" Astrid gave her a tentative smile, and Brunhilda burst out laughing.

"He's good, always knew he'd be," Brunhilda said between guffaws. Astrid shrugged in attempted casualness, but her twitching lips and lightly coloured cheeks said otherwise.

"Still, it, he … it makes no sense," she finally said with a resigned sigh. "It's like we're not even engaged one moment - he treats me like he treats Fishlegs or you! And then he's kissing me until I don't know what my name is -" Brunhilda and Ruffnut shared a glance over her daughter's head. "- and not talking to me for the rest of the night!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! Spoke to Stoick all night, and-"

"-Would barely look at you?" Ruffnut guessed. Astrid blinked, then nodded.

"I rest my case," the young mother replied with a flourish. "Totally my Fishlegs. He was leaving me flowers all over the house - flowers. For me. And it turned out later they had a meaning too, but what would I know? Anyway, kept leaving me these stupid flowers and things, and me getting all angry because he couldn't keep his damn botany samples to himself and he was not talking to me. He'd sort of squeak and run away if I got into the same part of the hall or village he was in. Cornered him and made him talk, and it turns out he just didn't know what to say, so he was trying to say it with the flowers.2 With you, it's the axe and the funky runes."

"Yes, but, Hiccup-"

"Hiccup nothing, dear, I think she's right." Brunhilda put her washing aside for a moment to throw an arm around her daughter. "Hiccup's never been the sort of man like … Snotlout, or your father or Gobber." Astrid gave her an incredulous look. "Oh, he's had his conquests, that old fighter. But Hiccup, now, he's not that sort of man to brag, or to make you sit on his knee in the hall for all to see while he gets drunk and kisses your cheek and sings ale songs to you. He's more likely to offer to help you do your chores to keep you happy, or just spend time with you around the house. And I think you much prefer it that way." Astrid nodded. "So you'll have to take the good with the bad. And I have to admit that Ruffnut's right. He's kept his shyness about him, and I'll not be surprised if he's not as well acquainted with women from his travels as you suggest."

Now both young girls looked at her incredulously.

"We will see, dear, but for now listen to us, and think about it. Hiccup isn't really the type to play with a girl's heart that I know. And … there's also one other thing you have to remember. The engagement is chafing for you, isn't it?" Astrid's cheeks went red and she looked down at her lap, but she nodded. "You're getting impatient, I know. It's an unusual situation and it's been five years, darling, I understand. But, you need to remember one thing." She swept her daughter's hair out of her eyes. "It's only been weeks for him. He woke up after a battle to find himself with no foot and engaged to a woman who was tending to his every need, when he's been mostly alone for a long time, from what he's let slip so far. Must take a while to adjust for anyone, and Hiccup's the thinking kind. It may take him longer."

Astrid leaned into her, and Ruffnut gave her knee a pat as the baby prevented anything further. She was sorry for her little girl; she'd never had this problem herself, with her husband's hands often needing to be fended off, rather than egged on. Not that she'd minded after a while, of course, but Hiccup seemed to have taken the stand-offish approach to their engagement, possibly trying to see what he was getting into. While it denoted intelligence, and possibly respect for her little girl, and maybe Ruff's theory was also right, it also worried her. Brunhilda had always known that the boy was in love with her daughter - the blind could see it as clear as the grey sea. But a lot changed in five years, and her daughter's heart had evidently been won. His, on the other hand …

She needed to have a talk with him. As his future mother-in-law - scratch that, as his future mother-figure, he was going to tell her what was going on in that head of his. She was fond of him as one could be of an adored child not ones' own, but no one hurt her little girl.

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1 Yes, Hiccup invented Tupperware. If Dreamworks can give him a squirrel suit, I can give him air-tight containers. ;)

2 I'm taking some liberties here, as I don't know if Vikings had a language of flowers. Even if they didn't giving girls flowers seems to be a universal token of affection. Of course, Ruff never thought they were for her - why would anyone give her weeds? - and just thought they were botany samples. After all, taking note of flora and fauna falls under 'typical guy things' for Fishlegs.

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To my sharper readers: I'm sure you've noticed that some of the earlier epithets are returning to bit people in the arse, or are only now beginning to make sense. This is not because I put in the wrong heading to the chapters, but because those are there to do a little bit of foreshadowing. Or to mislead you, of course. I have to keep everyone on their toes. Evil overlord and all.

Hiccup is a complete idiot – but he's also a poor dear, because he's trying really hard not force Astrid into anything he fears she does not want, and sometimes this stops him from seeing things. Again, selective blindness and irony will be heavily used writing tools

I would also like to formally introduce you all to what Foxy-girl has dubbed 'the laundry brigade'. This nucleus of three women is, actually, a rather typical thing to happen not only in Viking times. Women still form support groups amongst themselves in this manner in some villages of my country, and while it's not usually laundry they're doing (bingo is a favourite one), there are certain rituals that have been kept. This 'laudry brigade' is Astrid's support system, and it will be very important to her as it recurs through the story.

Also; Berk. The people of the village will play a part in this as much as anything.