Hiccup first became conscious of a dim, mottled gray-blackness all around. As his vision cleared, he began to make out scales and wing veins not far from his eyes. He was lying on his side, being sheltered by Toothless. That wasn't new at all. He had seen the inside of Toothless's wings before, in a variety of circumstances.

Unfortunately, the view usually meant something had gone haywire.

He decided to reach over with his hand, to lift up the edge of the covering wing to get a look outside. As he rolled forward, however, pain shot down his back and through every limb, and he was temporarily blinded by lights twinkling in front of his eyes. He would have cursed, but his brain appeared to have lost its ability to access his internal lexicon. He lay still, breathing as heavily as he dared, fighting back the nausea that had suddenly gripped his belly. With effort, he searched his immediate memories, trying to piece together what had happened to land him here (wherever here was), on the ground, under his dragon, unable to move.

Morning. Morning with Astrid. Awesome. Fighting with Astrid. Not so great. Then what? Think. Sun, waves, barrel rolls. Island. He didn't remember landing. He didn't remember landing…?

Oh, gods.

He coughed, feeling whatever had been almost healed in his ribcage re-damaged and sharp. He had decided, on a whim born of what he assumed was a total dissociation from rational thought, to do an acrobatic jump from Toothless down to the ground, enhanced by his flight suit's wings and back fin. He remembered hitting the button for the spring coil, and nothing happening. His recollection was blank after that. One small mercy at least.

Time for a damage assessment. Back, not good. Arms and legs, attached to back. They didn't hurt, not yet, but from what he could see in the dim light without twisting his head, there were rips and scuffs in the leather of his flight suit that suggested potential damage underneath. Internal stuff? He still felt sick from his attempt to move but there was no pain other than the rib he'd first injured back on Berk.

This was the second time he'd been hurt after the business with Drago, as a result of his own stupidity. If he made it back home, he'd need to see if there was a test he could devise to find out whether his brain had been switched with Snotlout's when he wasn't looking.

Can't stay here like this forever. Gotta find out where I am, what time it is, if Toothless is ok.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, and coughed again. Dammit, that hurts. "Hey. Bud. You awake up there?"

There was a shift of black wings above him, and a concerned dragon face appeared in his field of vision. Toothless started to lick him, happy that he was awake, but the jostling from the motion of the big pink tongue made him cry out and the face retreated guiltily.

"It's ok, bud," he said weakly. "I'm glad you're all right. Just…be careful with me, understand?"

The dragon circled him once and then sat down in front of him, looking worried. Hiccup managed to move his head an inch or so to the left to peer around the area where he lay; by the shadows and the quality of the light, he guessed it was sometime in the afternoon. There were trees in every direction. He must have crashed down through them when the failure of his back fin took him outside his intended landing zone.

He groaned as he realized that probably no one on Berk had any clue where they were. He hadn't even given Astrid a time when he'd be back; had he really just said "later," before slamming the door like a pouting teenager? He wondered how long she would wait before she figured something was wrong and came looking for them. She'd found them on Itchy Armpit before, but by the time she was likely to get concerned, it would be dark here when she arrived, and she might not have a good way to get them back to Berk.

He also realized he had packed no food, and no water. Great.

Time passed. After awhile, Hiccup lost grasp of how long he had lain there on the forest bed of loam, leaves, and dried pine needles. He started to get bored with the view from his position on his side, but as soon as he tried to move, strange and terrible sensations cruised through his spine. He gave up and let his mind wander, his eyes tracking Toothless as the dragon eventually grew restless in his seated position and started pacing around, checking out the forest around them but never straying more than fifteen or twenty feet away.

Eventually, although he tried his best to concentrate on other things, his thoughts drifted back to the morning's argument.

Ugh, why did I yell at Astrid? Yes, she hurt me. I'm still mad at her. We need to talk. Badly. But I shouldn't have raised my voice to her. She was scared. She gave herself to me and then I repaid her by making her tea and yelling at her. She's never looked at me like that before, like she was afraid of me. We've been married less than twenty-four hours, probably, and I've already screwed things up.

There was a water droplet on his face, then another. And another. It was starting to rain.

"Over here, bud," he said, "hope you don't mind being my tent until this blows through." The dragon rumbled deep in his throat and surrounded him again. Despite the warmth of the big scaly body against him, he started to shiver.

Come on, Astrid, he begged. Please don't pick today to leave me alone with my feelings. Come find me. I need you. I'm sorry. Please.

"I already told you," said Astrid. "I don't know where he went. He's a grown man. He doesn't need to clear everything with me."

Feeling guilty over the idea of lazing about the house in Hiccup's absence, but too listless to organize wedding gifts, Astrid had decided to spend the rest of the afternoon helping out with the ongoing excavation of Berk from under the dark Alpha dragon's ice. The greenish stuff was disturbing to deal with: it was hard and unyielding and the amount of heat required to melt it also set fire to the wood underneath. For weeks, nearly every able-bodied Berkian had gone home each day with sore muscles and a banged-up pickaxe. Gobber (and Hiccup too when he had the time) ran the forge as many hours a day as they could stand, constantly repairing the villagers' metal tools.

Hiccup had decided, in consultation with the village elders, the order in which homes would be excavated and repaired. To Snotlout's great delight, the Jorgensons' cottage was top of the list the present afternoon. Astrid's more sedentary wedding preparations had left her a bit fresher for physical labor than some others; she had stepped in to relieve a middle-aged member of the work detail, and was currently up on the roof with Snotlout and the rest of the gang as they pried and chipped ice from the roof shingles.

Naturally, they all wanted to know why Hiccup was gone and why the couple wasn't taking the two-day vacation from work that Astrid had bargained for. She still wasn't thrilled about answering their questions, but unfortunately, her taciturn responses only convinced them further that something was up.

"Did you at least…you know." Tuffnut made a suggestive gesture.

"Oh my gods!" cried Fishlegs, the only one of the group besides Hiccup who ever considered Astrid in need of protecting. "How is that any of your concern?"

"Hey, with all the trouble Hiccup gets into, we need to make sure there's an heir lined up."

"Better make it two heirs," followed Snotlout, and looked hurt when Fishlegs glared at him. "What? Just to be safe, you know. Accidents happen, and any kid those two produce will be so shrimpy the dragons might mistake it for a tasty treat."

"Don't be absurd," Astrid snapped.

"So how was it?" asked Ruffnut. "Better than smoking dragon nip even? C'mon, you can tell us, we're your friends and best suppliers."

"For the last time," said Astrid emphatically, "I don't smoke dragon nip. That's your thing. I tried it once, it made me sick and Hiccup hates the idea anyway. You know him—he doesn't even like the effect of mead."

"Ooooh," Snotlout mocked, "aren't we just the obedient little housewife. You've even got your hair up, doll, don't think we didn't notice."

Astrid lunged for him with the jagged piece of ice she had just broken off, aiming for his throat. She was restrained just in time by Fishlegs and Ruffnut, but still managed to kick the squat, dark-haired young man in the solar plexus, sending him sliding down the roof. He grabbed on just before he went over the edge.

"What the Hel is wrong with you?" he shrieked. "For at least a while, you were so in love you could take a joke. Guess our chief wasn't so great in the sack after all, to leave you so pissed off."

"You might," said Astrid, panting through gritted teeth, "want to avoid taunting the people who are helping to repair your house."

Snotlout hauled himself back up onto the roof with his beefy arms. He shrugged unrepentantly. "Fair enough."

Ruffnut knelt back down to continue working. Twisting to pick up a heavier tool, something caught her eye; she looked to the horizon and squinted.

"Look over there, guys, to the east. Storm's coming up."

"Valka said there might be one," Astrid said. "She claims her dragon is an expert weather forecaster."

"Looks nasty," said Tuffnut. "We'd better hurry so we can get as much done as possible before we get rained out."

"Damn," Snotlout complained. "It would have to rain on the day we're doing my house."

They worked for another hour or so, until the wind started to blow so hard they were having trouble staying atop the roof.

"Up to the Mead Hall," yelled Tuffnut, "it's warm in there and there's still leftover wedding food we can eat." They trudged up the hill, shielding their faces from the wind. Astrid's upswept hair was half down by the time they struggled through the door; once inside, she yanked the remaining pins from her head and scrubbed her scalp in relief as her braid resumed its familiar weight against her back.

The group made for the tables at the rear of the hall, where some of the older women routinely placed extra food for the work detail and for families with more mouths to feed than most.

Astrid picked up a roll and washed it down with some ale from the nearby pitcher.

"Not your mom's bread," she said to Fishlegs. "Or yours either."

"Nope," he responded, looking smug. "Ours is gone already. It always gets snatched up first."

"Does Hiccup know you're drinking ale?" Snotlout teased. Fishlegs shot him a warning glance but Astrid didn't respond. She was preoccupied with the sound of thunder above their heads.

"He isn't back yet."

"He's okay," Fishlegs said, patting her on the shoulder. "He's got Toothless, and he's not dumb. He'll be hunkered down somewhere, waiting it out. If he's even someplace where the storm has reached. It might be sunny still where he is, for all we know."

Astrid sat down with the others at one of the heavy wooden tables. She absentmindedly chewed on another stale roll, and tried to convince herself that Fishlegs was right. She had been determined today not to go after Hiccup, to instead give him room to be upset and to think through things on his own terms.

But she knew he hadn't taken any provisions with him out the door, and he had been so anxious to get away that she guessed he likely hadn't acquired any elsewhere either before taking off.

Her foot jiggled impatiently as she looked around the hall while the others talked, unable to participate in their conversation. Finally she couldn't stand it anymore.

"I'm going," she said, and abruptly rose from her seat on the bench.

Fishlegs looked up at her, mouth agape. "What? In this storm? Have you lost your mind? You have no idea where he is. You'll get soaked, and potentially struck by lightning."

"Let us go with you," said Ruffnut. "Two heads, erm, three heads are better than one. Wait—" she started counting on her fingers, trying to figure out the combined number of heads provided by the twins, Astrid, and their dragons.

Astrid shook her head. "No. Stormfly is the best tracker, and she's faster than all of you. I've trained her to carry messages back to Berk on her own. If you see her land without me, you'll know something's wrong."

Fishlegs sighed. "I can't believe you're doing this. Is there anything you need? What can we get for you?"

Astrid thought quickly. "An oilskin blanket, and a wool one. Two skins of water. Bread, cheese, and fruit for two days. You can get that from my house. Bandages. A knife, but I already have one. Bring it all up to the meeting room by the dragon stalls."

"I've got the food," called Fishlegs, and hurried out, hiking his vest up over his head.

"Bandages," said Ruff and Tuff simultaneously.

Snotlout looked at her for a moment. "Blankets," he said at long last.

"Thanks, 'Lout."

"Astrid?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. And be careful."

"Always am," Astrid replied flatly, unaware of the irony. She walked purposefully away from him toward the hall's huge double doors, her braid swinging freely behind her.

She had forgotten all about Valka's meatballs.

0000

That's right, folks, in my head-canon Fishlegs and his mom are bread-making Vikings. You saw it here first. Maybe. I have no idea.