Dimmadreki Chapter 4

A/N
This story has already received over 1200 reads, and over 110 combined favorites, follows, and reviews, in only three chapters. To my faithful readers and my new readers alike, thank you. You're amazing.

o

"So... what do you think?"

Myrkrid had offered him the chance to learn how to stay alive, but the price he would pay would be unspeakable. The alternative was slow death by starvation. How could anyone make a choice like that?

"How much time do I have to think this over?"

She actually looked hurt. "You'd even consider whether dying is better than mating with me? You sure know how to make a girl feel special!"

"Oh, man! I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, honest! I mean, if I was a dragon... I mean, if I was really a dragon, I'd probably think you look smokin' gorgeous, or drop-dead hot, or whatever guys are supposed to say to girls to make them feel pretty. I was never any good at that."

"I noticed," she said mournfully.

"How can I explain this?" he burst out. "As dragons go, you're probably the best-looking one I've ever seen. No long sharp fangs, or pointy spines on your back, no warts like a Gronckle, and I don't have to look at you like you've got two heads." He blinked hard. "Am I actually trying to sweet-talk a girl dragon? I feel like such a donkey! But when I think of a pretty lady, I think of someone with long blonde hair, and blue eyes, and soft white skin, and long legs..." He broke off.

"That sounds hideous," Myrkrid said with a shudder. "I'm trying to be patient; I know this delusion in your mind is going to die hard. But I need you to make a decision."

What should he do?

If he let her go, she'd be gone forever, and she'd take his only hope of survival with her. Maybe he could figure some of it out on his own, but he doubted it. He didn't have enough time for that; the longer he went without food, the weaker he'd get and the harder it would be to learn to fly. If she left, he would die.

If she stayed, he'd learn how to feed himself and get away from trouble. He'd have to make a commitment in return that he didn't think he could ever fulfill. But anything could happen in the meantime. If the Vikings got her, or if he changed back into a person somehow, or if she changed her mind once she found out he wasn't really a dragon, he wouldn't have to...

If he accepted her offer, it would probably be horrible. If he refused, it was guaranteed to be horrible. "I accept," he said flatly. She let out the breath she'd been holding. "Now I have a question," he went on. "How long does it take for a young dragon to become self-sufficient?"

"Night Furies can take care of themselves by the time they're yearlings," she replied, "but they don't have enough common sense to stay out of trouble until some time in their second year. That's how long I'll need you to stay with me. That's assuming we don't start another egg in the meantime, hint hint." He squirmed at the thought. Then she smiled. "So, where would you like to start?"

He yawned deeply. A change of subject was just what he needed. "Some sleep would be nice."

"Sleep?" she burst out. "But it's nighttime!"

"Yeah, I noticed that too," he said drily, "and I've been sleeping at night all my life. Why change now? Sleep is really what I need most, even more than food."

She snorted derisively. "You males are all the same! All you care about is eating, sleeping, mating, and flying for the fun of it! If it weren't for us females, we'd never be a civilized race! Still, I suppose you're right – I can't teach you anything if you're exhausted. Let's find a comfortable spot to spend the rest of the night." She wandered away; he rose and followed her. She eventually settled on a bare rocky outcrop.

"Rocks?" he wondered. "That doesn't look very comfortable."

"You're a dragon – you don't need soft squishy comfort," she replied. "A rock slab is the best place for a dragon to sleep. There aren't any bugs to bite your underside." She flamed a square patch of the outcrop and lay down on one side of it. "That's your side," she said, with a head gesture.

He hesitantly lay down where she'd indicated. There was not a lot of space between him and her. He doubted he'd be able to relax enough to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, ignored the warmth from the female dragon who was lying next to him, and tried to think happy thoughts.

After a few seconds, he heard her making... some kind of sounds. She wasn't really singing; there was no melody and there were no words. But it was more than random croons and rumbles. There was something oddly familiar about it, and for some reason, he found it very relaxing. He lay in the dark and listened. He was sound asleep in five minutes.

o

When he finally awoke, it was nearly noontime. Myrkrid was lying right up against him, gazing at him contentedly through half-closed eyes, and she'd wrapped a wing around him. For half a moment, he actually felt relaxed and at peace... but then he realized he was lying next to a dragon who wanted his body, and he leaped away with an incoherent bellow.

"Settle down, lover-boy!" she exclaimed. "It's just me! You don't think I'm going to hurt you, do you?"

"Well... that's what dragons always tried to do to me before," he stammered.

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. I'll go get us some lunch, and then we'll start your lessons." She bounded into the air and flapped out to sea. He watched her go.

How did she get up into the air so easily? he wondered. Maybe if I keep my eyes open and watch her, I can learn her secrets, and stay alive without having to give anything in return.

But that's not right, another side of him argued. You made her a promise.

I made a promise to a dragon! the first side of him retorted. It's not like I'd be breaking a promise to a person.

She's intelligent, she has feelings, and her actions are completely logical, from her point of view, the other side replied. She's a better person than some Vikings you know.

But she wants me to mate with her! the first part screamed in his head.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, when did you turn into a liar and a promise-breaker?

He almost replied, About the same time as I turned into a dragon, but he stifled the thought. It wasn't true. He was still Hiccup, no matter what he looked like on the outside. As an honorable Viking and the son of a chief, he'd been raised to believe that his word meant something. He'd agreed to her terms, and that was that. If fate didn't intervene, he would have to find a way to keep his promise. That was a thought he didn't want to dwell on! He practiced controlling the fins on his tail, just to keep his mind occupied.

She returned about half an hour later, clutching a good-sized tuna in her forepaws. She dropped it on the ground in front of him, then landed. "Today was my lucky day," she said happily. "This fellow is big enough to feed both of us, and I had to make only one trip. Go ahead, take the first bite." He stared at the fish doubtfully.

"Well? Go on!" she demanded, then sighed. "Oh, that's right, you probably don't remember how to eat a tuna. Watch and learn." She pinned the fish to the ground with one paw, tore off a strip with the claws of her other paw, and swallowed it. "Your turn."

He copied her actions. As a Viking, he didn't eat tuna often; they were hard to catch and tended to tear the nets. Tuna for supper was a rare treat. Today, he didn't care what it tasted like; it smelled like food, and he was still ravenously hungry. He devoured more than his fair share. She didn't complain.

"Do Night Furies eat anything other than fish?" he asked.

"Only if we're starving," she replied, and licked her lips clean. "Our systems are made for fish; it takes practice just to keep other kinds of food down, and it never tastes right."

"Any kind of fish will do?"

"Anything except eels," she answered. "Eating an eel will make you very, very sick. You probably won't die from it, but you'll wish you could. Even the smell of an eel is repulsive." She shook her head in disgust. "Okay, we've taken care of two of your Big Four, sleeping and eating. Mating will have to wait, unfortunately. It's time to start your flying lessons." She ambled away, looking for something.

"Will I get sick if I fly on a full stomach?" he asked nervously as he came up next to her.

She slapped him on the flank with her tail, but it wasn't nearly as hard as she'd hit him yesterday. "Why are you being so resistant?" she demanded. "Can't you understand that I have every reason to make you into an awesome dragon, and no reason at all to hurt you or do anything bad to you? I want you to succeed! I want you to fly! I want you to chase me into the air and catch me! I..." She didn't finish, but he could guess what she meant. I want you, period. He shivered.

As squeamish as the thought made him, there was another aspect to this that kept sneaking into his mind, and resisting all his attempts to chase it away. For the first time in his life, a female wanted him. She wasn't a female that he could ever want in return, of course... but after a short lifetime of nothing but rejection and loneliness, just knowing that someone could like him was very close to amazing.

He blinked hard and focused on his surroundings. She had led him to a cliff, about sixty feet high. Below them was a secluded cove. A small waterfall fed the fresh-water lagoon that flowed out toward the sea. Moss and lush grass covered the ground, and huge old trees lined the sheer edges of the cliffs. It looked like a very peaceful place.

"This is a perfect spot for a flying school," she decided. "No one will find us here; there are rocks for you to climb on and jump off of; and we're close to the ocean, so it won't be hard for me to keep us fed."

"Once I get down there, how will I get out again?" he asked nervously.

"You'll fly out, of course," she smiled. "It might take a few days, but you'll get there. Shall we begin?"

"Uhhh... what do I do?"

"First, relax a little. Stand on the edge and spread your wings. Hold them firm; that's good. Now get your tail straight out behind you... a little straighter... and fan your tail fins into a V-shape. Not so flat; you'll get no stability that way. That's better."

"Okay, now what?" he asked.

"Jump," she said simply.

Gulp.

"You do realize, that's a sixty-foot drop?" he quavered.

"You do realize that you're a dragon, right?" she shot back. "Your wings will hold you up and you'll glide right across the water. Try to land on all four feet at once when you land. I'll join you on the bottom and we'll continue from there."

He looked down again. "I never did this before."

"Of course you have; you just don't remember," she said. When he still didn't jump, she began to lose her cool. "Look – do you want to fly or don't you?"

Did he want to fly?

He hadn't looked at the problem from that angle before. All of a sudden, it wasn't about turning into a dragon, or trying to stay alive, or fending off an amorous female reptile. All of a sudden, it was about him and a sixty-foot drop.

If he tried to say he'd never dreamed of flying, he'd be a liar. Of course he had! He never talked about it with anyone, of course – they'd mock him for being a useless dreamer – but he'd often looked up at the clouds, and gazed out to sea, and wondered what it would be like to fly. Now he was on the verge of finding out.

He glanced over his shoulder at Myrkrid. "Am I about to become the first Viking ever to fly?"

"The last time I looked, Vikings couldn't fly," she said drily. "You are a Night Fury. If you don't believe me, glide down into that cove and look at your reflection in the water. Tell me what you see."

"That's… that's just on the outside," he argued. "On the inside, where it really matters, I'm a Viking. I am a Viking!"

"And you're really missing your imaginary past as a brave, powerful warrior?"

"Actually, I was more of a skinny, accident-prone kid."

She shook her head in disbelief. "And you're fighting tooth and claw to hang onto that past, when you could be the most powerful dragon in existence, just by admitting that that's what you are? You're not just deluded – you're crazy! Now jump off that cliff and glide!"

He looked down. "Isn't there an easier way to start? I mean, can't I jump off a small rock first, and work my way up to this?"

"This is how you start," she came back. "There's nothing else worth trying first. Everything you are, and everything you do, depends on flying, and you can't do it halfway. No fly, no fire; no fly, no food; no fly, no survive. A downed dragon is a dead dragon. Straighten your tail again, and jump."

He looked down again. Then he looked up. He suddenly remembered a dragon raid from eight months ago. He'd hidden in a small storage shed that had promptly been smashed by a Monstrous Nightmare's tail-swipe. He had been trapped for nearly an hour. As the other Vikings had finally pulled him out of the debris, grumbling about the extra work he'd made for them, he'd looked up at the distant dragons as they flapped away to the north, and thought, I wish I could fly away, too.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and… hesitated.

She lowered her shoulder and pushed him off.

He panicked. For a moment, he plunged almost straight down, his wings fluttering limply above him. It was mostly instinct that brought his wings down and spread them wide. Just like that, his descent turned into something like a smooth glide. His tail carried him around in a circle before he remembered to straighten it. He found himself feeling as if he was motionless in the air, except for the wind in his face. The pressure of the air under his wings held him up. A slight twitch of his tail changed the direction he was facing. The ground was far below him, and was slowly coming up to meet him.

In that moment, his entire universe changed. Even his transformation into a dragon paled in significance to that moment. It wasn't the fact that it was his first flight. It wasn't the fact that it was his first experience of what a dragon could do. It was the fact that, for the first time ever, he felt a taste of what it might mean to be something more than Hiccup the Useless.

Then one of his wings dipped slightly, he went into a spin, and before he could figure out how to recover, he'd fallen into the water with a huge splash. He dog-paddled to the nearest bank, and watched as Myrkrid settled gracefully to the ground next to him.

"That's the other reason this place is perfect," she said nonchalantly. "Every dragon spins out and crashes on his first glide. I figured it would hurt less if you landed in the water than on the rocks, which is where most young dragons land."

"Thank you for that," he nodded, and shook himself dry. "Did I mention that I don't know how to swim?"

"Night Furies don't swim," she said off-handedly. "We need cliffs to jump off of, or solid ground to push against when we take off. If we end up in the water, we usually never get out, unless we're close to shore like you were. It's a bad idea. A downed dragon is a drowned dragon. Ready to try gliding again?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" She didn't sound surprised. "So there are some aspects of dragonhood that you don't despise with all your heart?"

"I'll admit, I've got to make some changes in the way I think."

"Then let's start with that name of yours. 'Hiccup' is no name for a self-respecting dragon, and definitely not for a Night Fury! You need a name that reflects what you are. Something that won't embarrass me every time I call you by name."

"We can't have that, can we?" he smirked. "What are you going to call me – Svarturbilun? Black Failure?"

"Let me tell you something." She stuck her nose right up against his until he backed off. "I don't care what kind of a failure you think you are, or how many times you think you've messed up before today. You are going to succeed as a dragon, for three reasons. One: the fact that you're here, grown to maturity, is proof that you've succeeded in the past. Two: I taught all my children to fly, so I know I can teach you. Three: if you fail, then I don't mate. That isn't an option. Either you will become an awesome dragon, or…"

"Or what?" he asked.

"Or else!" she answered, showing all her teeth.

"You have a funny way of making me want to be intimate with you," he quavered, backing off another step.

"Oh, honestly!" she burst out. "Do you think I'm going to beat you up every time you turn around? Why are you so fearful? I think you might be afraid of your own shadow!" Then her expression changed. "That's your name. Dimmadreki. Shadow Dragon. It reflects what you're going to be – an invisible shadow in the night. Will you answer to that, until you remember your real name?"

He looked surprised. "That might be the first time you've asked me a question without telling me what my answer ought to be," he replied. "Yes, I guess I'll answer to that."

"Okay, Dimmadreki, climb up on that rock. You need to try gliding again. Remember to keep your tail straight, and this time, work on keeping your wings level."

o

A/N
"Dimma dreki" are the Icelandic words for "shadow dragon," according to Google Translate. According to a reader who speaks Icelandic (thank you, Magnor), it really means "darkness dragon" and isn't quite grammatically right, but to an English-speaking ear, it makes a fairly cool-sounding name for a Night Fury.