I do believe that this will catch you all by surprise. And a slightly early update for Em's sake.

Berkian Eddur - 1

Becoming Lífþrasir

Day 4

Afternoon

Astrid rushed through the busy village, not quite ever catching up with Cattongue as he weaved through the halls and people bustling around. The fact that he was walking after the dragon, which opened the stream of people like her axe through logs helped him, while she was jostled this way and that by the returning flow of foot-traffic.

He was already banging away at the anvil when she finally reached the forge, back to the door and dragon nudging him gently. He was evidently annoyed, even angry, and she'd only seen that in battle to-date. Astrid gathered another piece of information about him; his work, apparently, was important to him, and a source of pride. He did not like his work to be degraded, and took umbrage when it was. She was one fact richer about him, at least.

And one problem poorer; she had to solve this damned situation before someone they were in debt with decided that just telling them what to do in this crises, while they hadn't expiated the debt yet, wasn't enough. She'd wished to ask subtly about her suspicions, (how did he know Hiccup? How did he know Berk? Could he have been the one Hiccup was speaking to, in the cove?) confront him indirectly, but now she didn't dare. Honestly, what was Stoick thinking!

She walked into the forge, trying to be quiet, but the dragon ratted her out right away, turning to look at her and thrilling a greeting – Loki's balls, now thanks to her nadder she knew what a dragon's sounds meant.

Cattongue sighed. "Not now, Gobber," he said, and for some reason, it struck a very powerful chord in her chest. There was a familiar note of misery there that reminded her of dragon raids and the repairs that followed them, but also of the sea smell, sooth and charcoal somehow. The feeling was fleeting, and tickled something at the back of her mind that had her holding her breath in an urgent need to remember. But then the dragon warbled again, nudging Cattongue, who looked back, straightened and nodded curtly, and she was forced to let it go.

"Did you need anything, Hofferson?" he asked when she did not speak up. He turned back to the anvil, back even stiffer than before. "I was working on some outfitting for you and your nadder, but if you prefer that Gobber handle your gear, I will understand."

There was note of coldness again. Whatever had been tickled at the back of her mind gave another heave, but even though she scrambled for it, it still slipped through her fingers.

"It's fine," she said quickly, when she took too long to answer again and he turned to peek at her through the helmet. "I mean, if Gobber said it was great, then I believe him." She was surprised to see his shoulders sag, and his tone in the next sentence was almost fond.

"He's some blacksmith, huh?" Hm, Gobber had apparently gotten under his skin? Smart.

"He really is," Astrid replied with a chuckle in her voice. She sometimes forgot how experienced in all kinds of battles the blacksmith was – she still couldn't shake off the image of the often-silly man she had grown up with, despite his quieter melancholy the past few years. Astrid sat on the bench just under the raid window, looking out into the village for a few moments. Clouds were blotting the sun out, turning everything a steel, cold colour, and the forge fires became rosier in contrast. A few drops heralded the shower that quickly followed, sending folk scurrying for shelter and clearing the streets outside as it began increasing in strength. Winter really was coming, soon; Autumn was practically at the door. Astrid was not looking forward to another Winter in a hall so quiet and still, she had to admit, not when she was used to the hustle and bustle of her rather big family. Stoick, sometimes, would become so withdrawn she couldn't get a word out of him for days.

"Look," she said with a sigh, turning towards the blacksmith, who seemed to be working on some strange hoops a hand-span wide. "About Stoick…" She stopped. Because how did she apologise for the chief without apologising? She couldn't really make Stoick seem like an idiot by downplaying the value of his words, but that's exactly what she had to do to apologise. Great – she should have thought this through.

"It's alright. The chief is the chief. He is already being more accommodating than any other chief I know." Astrid didn't know how she felt about that. Was that a complement to Stoick's level headedness, or was he implying that he didn't hold a candle to the other chiefs? "He is very … fair."

He'd really had to look for that word. Even the night fury was looking at him with half-lidded eyes that said '…really?' Astrid would have chuckled if this didn't worry her immensely. It made her go down a road she was not really comfortable with.

"Well, the thing is," she shifted, and the dragon looked at her. Toothless, he was called, she remembered; she was getting a look from him that told her he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was. It didn't make her any less tense. "Stoick really misses his son. You know, Hiccup … the one you … met …?"

Her voice faltered when he turned to look at her rather abruptly. A loud peal of thunder made her gaze snap outside as well, and the return of his strong hammering filled up the following silence. Rather than letting it endure, Astrid went on.

"It's been five years since he left, and Stoick hasn't heard word from him in a while, and he's really worried. We all are, really. But it makes him very … testy." Cattongue gave no reply, and the lightning began to chase itself in the sky, thunder following in loud crashing. Damnit, Thor was mad as Hel's teeth. Possibly at her for being such a coward and not facing the man she was talking to like a real Viking.

"I … I mean, that was not the impression I got from him." She couldn't stop a flinch, and pretended that it was from the thunder. "I am sorry if this upsets you." And obviously failed to fool him. "He thought that Berk wouldn't miss him much at all. His nickname there was 'Hiccup the Useless', after all."

"He wasn't useless," she hissed, turning angrily towards him. She felt better now that she could be angry at him. "That was just a stupid childish nickname this bonehead Snotlout came up with when he had too much time on his hands and too little brain to come up with something useful to do." He gave a quiet huff of mirth, and Astrid relaxed marginally, feeling slightly stupid. She was here to repair any damage done, not get angry at him herself.

"Snotlout is … rather interesting to speak with," he replied, and there was a quality of amusement in his voice that made her want to snort. "Just this morning before the meeting, he was telling me that you really are about to be engaged to him."

"Oh don't you believe his tripe," she said, angry again – and this time feeling safe in planning to crack that idiot's scull. What if Cattongue met Hiccup again and told him something like that?

The thought made her stop cold, and the racket Cattongue was making on some new concave metal plate took over the smithy. Did she dare? Yes, now was the time to sip from the well. Cattongue had met Hiccup before, and …

"Say," she said tentatively, turning to give her back to the window and face Cattongue completely. A thought, an echo of that cold-eyed glance almost made her stop, but she couldn't place the feeling, so she forged on. "Do you think you'll see him again?" She'd already told Thuggory to pass on a message for her; but if she asked two people, maybe he'd believe it more. Ack, she didn't need to justify her choices with herself! Cattongue had turned to look at her, too. "If you do, would be too much to ask of you, if you told him something from me?"

Cattongue swallowed uncomfortably, and she almost backtracked. But perhaps, if he pledged his word to her, it would tie him to Berk more solidly. She'd be in his debt personally, too, but sometimes, that forged a connection that endured more than any other.

"Why?" he asked. He wasn't going to make it easy. She looked down for a moment, and he continued almost apologetically. "I mean, Thuggory said you were engaged, but I … Hiccup never mentioned you."

"Never?" she found that there was a rather sinking feeling in her chest. Cattongue went on even more urgently.

"Ah, I mean … I, er, he didn't seem to know. That he was engaged, I mean," Cattongue rubbed his neck uncomfortably. There was a long, uncomfortable silence until the dragon gave what sounded like a chuckle and nudged him with a paw, which made Cattongue swat at him. "Don't you start," he muttered at him. Astrid gave a tired chuckle before leaning on the window jamb, folding her arms and looking down at Cattongue's feet.

"It was arranged, after he left. On his journey, I mean."

"So you want me to tell him to stay as far off as possible, I get it," Cattongue said with a wry snort. Astrid looked up with a glare.

"No!" Cattongue looked up at her, his body language speaking of alarm, so she looked down again and softened her tone. "We had a quarrel. And when he left it just … I really owe him an apology, you see."

Coward, she told herself as she turned back to look out the window. The rain hadn't let up at all. The streets were completely empty now. The silence became utterly unbearable, especially here in the smithy. It was so easy to remember Hiccup here, where she'd seen him every day for so many years, drowning behind a pile of weapons, bantering with Gobber, working late into the night and early in the morning. Her insides gave a roll, and then tried to fold themselves into sharp corners when she thought Hiccup had never mentioned her once with the people he had met while travelling. Had he forgotten them? Or did he think they wouldn't want him to remember them?

Her insides gave another heave; she wasn't sure guilt felt quite like this. Panic welled suddenly up her throat.

"It's my fault he left," she blurted suddenly, looking resolutely into the falling rain. "I said some horrid things to him, things that made him feel there was no place for him in the village." She swallowed stubbornly against the lump in her throat. "I was wrong of course, but I didn't get the chance to …" She'd already said that. She had to get all the important things out; Hiccup had to hear this, and Cattongue could only remember so much. "He was a genius in the smithy, even Gobber can't work on some of the things he's left us. He was … is kind and he made up for things he wasn't good at in other ways. Berk really needs him back, and, I …"

She didn't know what else she wanted to say, but she couldn't just stop there.

"You know he can draw better than anyone I know? Give him charcoal, and he can put anything on paper. And there are these machines he made and left here, they're amazing. That launcher Gobber gave us the plans for yesterday is his. And this-" She fingered her pendant, and then stopped, going rigid and feeling her cheeks grow hot. What was she doing, telling him these unnecessary things?

"I'll tell him…" Astrid looked at Cattongue, who was swallowing stiffly. He rolled one shoulder, almost like an effort to shrug gone wrong. "He, um, Hiccup'll know how you feel. I'll make sure of it."

Her heart pounded in her chest as a feeling swelled upwards. She smiled at him gratefully, nearly overcome by the desire to hug him in thanks. That was not going to happen. Her body seized up with the conflicting emotions running through her.

"Thank you," she choked out. The urge to leave was suddenly, unbelievably strong. "I, uh…" The rain had not let up at all. "I will see you at the next meeting."

Coward, she told herself again as she ducked out into the freezing rain.

The very strange feelings in her chest didn't go away.

=0=

Hiccup knew he was being irrational while he pounded on the dragon's ear filters. Stoick didn't know that it was Hiccup, so he wasn't really refusing something his son had made. And yet it stung like a nadder spike all the same. Would it kill him to accept something Hiccup had made, for once? To accept an invention with something other than disdain and a wrinkled nose, promote the result of hours and hours of thought and toil and sweat to the rest of the tribe? As if to spite himself, he remembered the only time in recent memory when his dad had looked at him with pride; when he thought he'd been bashing dragon skulls in the ring, when really, he'd only been training them.

Stoick would really never see Hiccup, even when he was standing right there, always conscious, in his fear that he'd be discovered, that this word or that mannerism was giving him away, and being proven more and more every day that his father hadn't really known him.

Then Astrid ducked into the smithy and dropped her firebolts, and Hiccup was left reeling.

So, Stoick missed him. Yeah, that was … that was evident, in the way that trolls stealing socks were evident. So Stoick was surly and horrible to guests when he missed a family member; not likely. He'd seen his – Stoick be more than hospitable to guests, after his mum was gone. Stoick simply … of course he just … he …

Oh, it didn't make sense. Stoick didn't know it was Hiccup behind the helmet. …Did he? Gobber wouldn't have …

No, no. Stoick would have burst in, confronted him. Possibly flung his helmet off, stunned him with a good blow to the head and then tied him up for trial. Or not; was Astrid serious when she said they wanted him back? She did? She didn't know who she was speaking to, evidently. And his – Stoick didn't know. But in that case, it made no sense for Hiccup to be so upset that Stoick had refused his gift. The chainmail had worked well in the past, Thuggory's father and Cami's mother both wore variations of it made to order. He'd wanted to do that for his – Stoick so much, make sure as many of the people going to battle were as protected as he could kit in the protective metal. And he'd done so many of these chainmails now that one only took him two hours to make – Gobber had admitted it took him a whole day to cut the links alone, between his missing hand and his larger fingers.

Gobber had been dogging his every step, shadowing all his work since he'd discovered him. He'd even tried to convince Hiccup to spend the night at the forge instead of the forest, but the prospect of spending the night with the helmet on had pushed Hiccup out into the cold, but private, forest. The disappointment on the blacksmith's face every time Hiccup reminded him that he wasn't here to stay, and that he wasn't the same gangly boy who had left five years ago in one way or the other always ate at the younger smith, but it couldn't be helped.

And yet here he was, being ridiculously hurt that his – his father had once again refused something made by his own hand. It was so illogical he'd been getting progressively angrier at himself until Astrid walked in.

And Astrid … dear gods, Astrid. Engaged to him; missing him; listing all the things he could do like they were complements and accomplishments. Like she was proud of him in a way that nobody had been since his mother and Gobber. It left him feeling almost queasy with uncertainty.

Toothless nudged him again. At least his best friend was a constant solid presence through this mess. Gods, he should never have come back to Berk.

"This is so messed up," he whispered, and Toothless replied with a nod, a worried warble and a comforting huff of warm air. The rain outside is letting up, and in a way he was glad. He could still see Astrid, walking away from the smithy with steps slower than she should if she was trying not to get wet. Thousands of thoughts began to pass through his brain; she should stay dry, it wasn't healthy. She really should take care of herself more. There was a definite new shape to her face; much less round, but still soft, fooling you to believe that she was just another woman.

Yeah, right. She could nut you with an arrow from a hundred yards away. She'd almost done it to Snotlout once when they were twelve and he wouldn't shut up about … well, what she'd almost hit. And if she could almost hit at 12, she could definitely hit at … Odin, they were 19 already.

And she was engaged to him. His eyes were still glued to her across the plaza, where she had stopped to take some shelter under the eve of one of the closest halls to the forge. He remembered looking out at her through this very window, longing, learning, wishing, and maybe hoping a little, but he'd never really finished that thought process because it had seemed ridiculous even as a dream. Even now, he knew there was something more behind this arrangement; possibly a way to disguise Astrid moving into the heirdom of the tribe even though she is not related to Stoick by blood.

But it was true, and she was right there, and …

His mouth went dry for a moment as Toothless gave a growl next to him. Hiccup knew the meaning of that growl perfectly. Instantly, Hiccup clapped on the armoured shoulder pads he'd removed for comfort and was racing out of the smithy with his dragon into the light drizzle.

Astrid spotted him right away. "What is it?"

He held up a hand to her, looking up at the sky, tense and ready. Toothless beside him was doing the same, eyes moving here and there, resolutely upwards. There was another static moment, then …

There, in a gap between the lighter clouds. A red tail-tip; they were waiting for the downpour to stop so that they wouldn't get their heads wet and using the clouds as cover. Smart; but he was smarter.

"Perfect," he said, adrenaline beginning to course through his veins as he mounted the equally eager Toothless.

"What?!"

"RAID!" he bellowed into the village, hoping it would carry. He turned to look at Astrid. "Go tell Stoick; get the alarm going! Then call your nadder and get up into the air. Get the net machines along the perimeter of the higher town ready!"

He turned to Toothless, who nodded. He crouched down and tensed as Astrid sprinted towards the warning bell, which was in sight. "It's go time, buddy."

With a screech, they were up. The bell started going before the last droplet ceased falling and the first dragon head whizzed out of the clouds. They found themselves facing an angry night fury.

Villagers were beginning to pour out of wherever they'd taken shelter, armed and ready, judging by the noise. Hiccup was pre-occupied with herding a group of nightmares towards the higher points. The bells faltered, his head glanced almost of its own accord, and he felt gladness blooming to see that Astrid had merely passed on the job to run for her nadder. He realised he'd panicked at the thought of her being hurt.

He filed that for a better thinking time.

He spotted Stoick pouring out of the hall. Toothless blasted a nightmare out of the sky and into a waiting trap, which snapped to trap its wings, and though it fired up, the metal parts held.

"Yes it worked! Now fly to the stairs, buddy, the Hall!"

Toothless landed in front of the chief.

"Hop on!"

"WHAT?"

"No time, Sir! I swear you will be safe! You're needed next to the barns!"

Stoick's expression changed instantly, and he stoutly got into Toothless, who groaned but took off. Avoiding a few streams of fire on the way, Hiccup was pleased to see that the new recruits who had received terrors were doing their job as they raced to positions. Astrid was also up, and she flanked him as they flew at their fastest.

"Hofferson, the nets?"

"Positioned!" she yelled over the wind. He nodded.

"Go there, I'll signal like this!" he waved his arm sharply downwards. "Pull the levers two seconds apart!"

They arrived at the barns, Stoick roaring orders as they passed, even taking a gronkle down with his hammer as they flew; he couldn't help yelling a 'good shot', and he admitted to himself that this was the most fun he'd had with his dad in years. It was a pity so much was riding on it.

The barns were under heavy siege. He didn't quite remember a raid this bad – there were certainly more dragons than he ever could remember seeing. Perfect. A nadder spike lodged into his shoulder pad with a thunk and barely penetrated the skin, but he contained the hiss and flew on – thankfully Toothless didn't notice; he would pay for it later. Stoick got off before Toothless had even landed, and used his momentum to send another gronkle reeling. Hiccup and Toothless winced together as the hammer hit and sent a few dragon teeth flying, while Hiccup took the chance to get the spike out of his shoulder pad, and was about to get back up when he noticed a nightmare trying to sneak up behind the chief, keeping to the shadows.

"Oh no you don't!" He hissed at it violently, blood boiling as Toothless gave a warning growl that alerted it to being caught. With a roar of its own it launched at Stoick, and Hiccup threw himself off Toothless, parrying a blow meant for his father's back with his pride and joy; the sword Smoulder.

Stoick turned in alarm to find himself back to back with Cattongue. The expression on his face as he took a second to absorb the scene was priceless to Hiccup.

"It's OK, I've got your back!" he yelled, fulfilling a lifelong dream, before his instinct and a roar from Toothless made him duck, taking his father with him as a stream of fires rose over their head. Hiccup caught all the viscous offshoots with his smoking sword. Before the nightmare could finish its fireball, and therefore retreat and attack again, Hiccup passed his sword to the right hand, slipped his left arm backwards into its protective casing and swung, catching the dragon in the lower jaw and sending it reeling. Throwing Smoulder into his left hand again, he waved it in an arch, forcing the dragon to retreat or have its teeth shorn off, and it found Toothless circling it from the back.

The nightmare turned to give him a furious look and attacked. Hiccup had dealt with his fair share of wild dragons that either couldn't or refused to be tamed, at least at first. He nimbly leapt out of the way, staying on his feet as he brought Smoulder down in a wide arc that caught the nightmare's wing. There was an instant spark, and both the dragon and the sword caught fire.

"Throw that away, use this!" Stoick said, about to throw a mace his way, but then stopped when he saw the flames around the sword rise higher, but the weapon remain undamaged, and the guard over Hiccup's hands keeping him safe.

Hiccup have his dad a smirk. "Smoulder's a special one." His father just stared, and Hiccup could have burst with pride.

The nightmare, on the other hand, seemed to be panicking that it was set on fire before it was ready, and attempting to put itself out in patches at a time. It roared as soon as Cattongue darted in again, and relit all the areas the dragon had managed to snuff out. As it tried to retreat Toothless hissed at it, and soon three other fighters as well as Stoick were surrounding it cautiously.

A panicked look came over its eyes and Hiccup chucked a yell and ran forward to catch's its focus; it was frantic now, so this would be dangerous. The nightmare howled and lunged to bite him in half, and he flung himself underneath it's neck. Rolling and coming up behind its head, he brought the sword down hard on the back of its skull, a spot behind the horns he knew knocked them out right away. It slumped bonelessly to the ground, moaning in pain, and the fires on its body began to abate quickly.

"Incoming!"

Hiccup looked up as a new wave of dragons began to descend onto the island as new alarm horns began going off, and he growled, looking at his father and Toothless.

"Sir!" he called, almost helplessly. Stoick seemed to understand.

"We can handle things well enough here! Go!" He yelled, bringing his hammer down on a nadder's skull as another two warriors held it by the wings and tied them together, while another two tied the nightmare he'd defeated down. With a reluctant nod, Hiccup put his sword out as he trotted towards Toothless, keeping his eyes on his father for as long as he dared before he hopped onto his best friend again.

They were back up into the sky within moments, and they began circling the island, taking out as many dragons as they could with a deathly fast surprise blast, to the tail or leg, which sent them towards nets or steel traps waiting beneath. A few nadders and a pack of gronkles suddenly started following and attacking him, and he swooped up, Toothless knowing what to do without word or hesitation as they herded them instead with blasts and sonic dives towards an area where, hopefully, things had been set up according to plan. He directed Toothless to hide in a smoke column as he held his breath, looked around frantically, and finally Hiccup spotted what he needed most.

Fishlegs was with the gongs, having wheeled them to the edge of the cliff facing the village. Three of the kids where there – Gustav, Dartfoot and Nuthead. Almost everything was ready.

Diving back to the smithy, he quickly got the filters, shooting back up as quickly as he could and blessing Toothless's natural speed. Every dragon with a rider got a pair fitted over their ears, and then – making sure to shoot some stubborn gronkles and zipplebacks out of the sky on the way – they tore it to the field where the two girls – Hilda and Helga – had been instructed to take their Whispering Deaths. Toothless, ever uncomfortable with this species, hedged as they landed.

"Ok girls. Now, like we practiced."

Both girls turned to their dragons and started twirling their index finger and yelling instructions, and both Whispering deaths began to tunnel two holes into a pit they had dug earlier before the council meeting, under the pretence of training.

"Stop when you reach the water! Dig another tunnel to escape through!" he called after the two subterranean dragons. He gave the two girls a nod, and then handed them each a sack of dragon nip. "Make sure to stay upwind, and to have your dragons behind you when you throw this, understand?" He exchanged a look with Phlegma, who he'd left in charge of them; she nodded determinately.

Hiccup shot up again instantly. He hadn't yet managed to make the facial protection for the dragons, but this would have to do. Toothless, as always, could read his mind before the thoughts finished forming, and they were shrieking towards the large cluster of dragons by the barn.

The fighters were barely holding up. Hiccup's stomach rolled in a way flying with Toothless had never accomplished when he saw Stoick with blood running down his head while he fought.

"Game's up," he growled, and his companion snarled with him. They began whizzing at breakneck speed, shooting dragons out of the sky and into awaiting nets and traps. The dragons naturally began to try to get out of their way, and thus allowed themselves to be herded. Astrid rose next to him on her nadder, shooting fire at escapees. "Put the filters on her ears!" When Astrid complied, he put the metal band with the warm yak-fur-insulated cups on Toothless's ears, and took a large yak-bell from his saddle, ringing it savagely.

Gustav answered, and moments later, loud, sonorous clanging began to reverberate through the village. With Toothless' help, Hiccup guided Astrid's nadder to land, and then shot up again,

"Vikings clear! Sir!" He was by Stoick again. "Sir, are you alright!" he had no time to ask, but he couldn't help it.

"A scratch!" Right. Hiccup knew he'd say the same if his guts were hanging around his neck like a garland. But they had no time.

"Get the men clear! They won't be safe!"

"GET CLEAR!"

Hiccup almost wished he'd worn his own ear filters. Toothless looked at him with a smug snicker. But it worked. The human warriors began to filter away, while the dragons caught in the acoustic blast began to falter.

"Ready, bud?" No need for an answer; they were up again, the filters holding up as Toothless could shrug off the effects of the massive dishes of metal being banged on by the kids, while the other dragons began to falter and fall out of the sky. Those that did found themselves at the receiving ends of shields and hammers – he was glad to see the people of Berk following orders and not killing the stunned creatures.

Hiccup, Fishlegs and Astrid (who had come back up! So much for helping her land!) began herding the dizzy and panicked dragons towards the chosen area which, according to his calculations, would yield them the best results. He swooped in as a pack of terrors tried to take Fishlegs down, and used a shrill mouth-whistle to disperse them. Astrid had taken to flying like a natural, and a corner of his mind wished he had more time to admire her astride a dragon. As soon as he saw that they had most of the raiders flapping wings and almost hitting each other within the designated area, Hiccup didn't dally. He called for Fishlegs and Astrid to get clear. Now for the coup de grace.

Hiccup flew to the hilltops, cutting the air with his arm. Astrid had obviously transmitted the signal. Massive nets rushed into the air, capturing a large amount of the dragons who they had herded into range. With a satisfying thud, Hiccup watched the wreathing mass of reptilian prisoners landing into the Whispering Death's pit.

"HELGA, HILDA, NOW!"

There was a rumble. The pit, which he'd made sure to have the 'practice' Whispers dig below sea level on one side, filled with water, causing the dragons to shriek and cry out in alarm and terror. Once he was sure that all of them had been wet, he bellowed out again, and the two little girls started jumping up and down. The Whispering deaths emerged further downhill, water gushing behind them. The pit emptied.

"Girls, the grass!"

The panicked dragons – some who were at the bottom of the netted piles half drowned and moaning pitifully, began the quiet and calm down as the girls threw dragon nip down at them. Making sure the stay downwind, Hiccup landed, peering into the pit to see the damage and conquest.

There were seventeen nightmares, thirteen gronkles, fifteen nadders and ten zipplebacks between the three nets they'd launched successfully, and this at a glance. Some – probably the ones at the bottom – were going to be injured. Hopefully not too badly. He hoped none of the poor creatures had died. He hoped no one on Berk had been hurt.

"They're leaving!"

"They're off! They're going away!"

"They didn't take any sheep!"

"Nor the yaks!"

"Or the fish either!"

Hiccup looked up at the retreating tails grimly. He wished they could have captured them all. If only the others hadn't gone back to their Islands to get reinforcements today. He wasn't sure how much of its strength that monster had regained, but he feared for the returnee's lives.

If that spawn of Loki was strong enough to call the dragons to her again, and send them out for the food she needed to heal, then she couldn't be too weak, already.

A dragon landed next to him. Astrid hopped off, stopping to help Stoick down, and both of them looked grimly down at the dragons in the pit.

Hiccup looked up with fierce satisfaction at his father. One of his plans had worked. In Berk. Adrenaline wasn't the only thing responsible for the surge of pride in his chest.

"It seems we no longer have a problem of how to divide the dragon riders between defence and attack, Sir," he said. Toothless beside him gave a rumble, obviously feeling Hiccup's elation and sharing it through contagion.

"It … it seems not," came the tight reply as he looked fixedly down at the calm, near snoozing dragon mass. Hiccup was going to need a lot more dragon nip. Lots and lots more. "You can train all these?"

Hiccup nodded sharply. "Starting now. The sooner the better. I will need all the men and women willing to ride here within the minute. We need to see to the injured dragons and Vikings, and then starts the hard part." He looked at Astrid, who was glancing at him wide-eyed and … he looked at the pit. "We have to get the Vikings and dragons in the air, together, as soon as possible. They have to bond." A smirk stretched across Hiccup's face, unseen behind the mask. "And then, when she comes for Berk, we'll be ready."

"Ah … Aye." Hiccup looked at his father, startled at the agreement and tone similar to his own. Hiccup realised with a jolt that he, himself, had had bloodlust in his voice, the same his father had breathed. A glance at Astrid showed her still staring at him with wide eyes as if she was seeing him for the first time. "Berk won't fall to the likes of that dragon."

Hiccup nodded. Then he rolled his shoulders, and began yelling instructions. Stoick followed suit, most of the orders complementing his own. For the first time in a long time, something inside Hiccup clicked, but he did not have time to stop to think about it when he ran over to help his father get some logs off a collapsed Hall, haul away dragons that had not fallen into the pit, complement the kids and give them new tasks ("Go put more grass in the pits! Put it on the dragons in the traps! See if they are injured! Tell me if they are!"), and even talking to Gobber, Fishlegs and the other artisans who were trying to crowd him for an explanation of the machines.

There was simply too much to do.

=0=

"Keep them on the nip. Is there enough to go around?"

'Aye's answered the boy in a tired chorus, but everyone was ready with their hands, pitching in with hauling the dragons out of the nets, the younger recruits flitting about to keep everyone supplied on nip. Stoick put down the log he'd just dragged, and suddenly, his ears whistled.

"Sir, are there any Vikings injured?"

Stoick stood and stared.

"Sir?"

This shook him out of the stupor that had come over him to blink at the boy, who was still looking at him while he turned to bark something at someone every few seconds. Stoick rolled his shoulders, trying to grasp enough of the situation to reply, but there was nothing he could think of over the whistling in his ears.

This boy … who was this boy? He had repelled the attack so completely and effectively that the dragons had taken nothing even though that was one of the worst attacks he'd ever had the mind to remember. He had faced down a nightmare almost on his own and won without injury on either side.

Cattongue turned to Astrid, who waved Svensen over and muttered a few things to him. Then there was a panicked call of his name, and he felt himself stumble. A shoulder was placed underneath his, then another, larger one on the other side. His sight winked in and out, and when he could focus his eyes again, there was Svensen under his left arm, and Cattongue under his right.

"You took a blow to the head." Yes, yes he had. He remembered that damn nadder's tail suddenly coming out of nowhere right for his axe-arm. He'd ducked, but in the wrong direction. And … was that Hiccup's voice, somewhere behind him, barking at everyone to get clear, and damnit, get the healer! Or was it 'where's the healer'?

"Ah, Hiccup," he muttered "you forgot where the healer is?" and the step between Svensen and Cattongue faltered.

"Sir," Cattongue said. "We are taking you to the healer. Please hold on till there!"

"Damn it to Hel's realm!" There was a roar and a crashing sound. Stoick turned to look automatically, but all it did was send him reeling, and bile rose to his throat.

"Loki's shit," someone growled. Was that Hiccup? It was strange and muffled, but the blood in his ears seemed to be doing a lot of that. When had his boy developed a Viking's tongue?

"Cattongue, one of them's gotten out! We need yer arse there!"

"But Stoick!"

"I'll take care o' that! Go!"

Stoick felt himself be jostled, a knobblier, wider shoulder slipped under his right armpit, and he tried hard to focus on the retreating back of whoever had been there before.

"Come on, you old stubborn, boar-headed Viking," Gobber said gamely, and he was hauled away.

"Where's Hiccup gone?" he asked, his stomach roiling again as he realised he couldn't hear his voice well anymore.

"Dunno, my friend, but I know where you are going. Now come on!"

Stoick tried desperately to understand why it was essential for him to keep thinking and asking and walking after who had been under his arm, but he simply couldn't put one foot in front of the other and think at the same time.

=0=

Snotlout had fully intended to get his hands on that nightmare first – show them all how it was really done, and remind them all that he was Berk's new promise. But that stupid foreigner had arrived before him – hell, people had been calling for him as soon as the stupid dragon got loose.

And he came in, flying the stupid beast of a dragon, looking all heroic. Waved his arms around, did some funny thing with his hand, rubbed his nails on its nose, like a May Day daredevil performer, inches from those mad teeth. Then a grab of horns, a brief tug, and the huge thing was purring up at the stupid foreigner like some demented animal.

Snotlout hated, hated that stupid foreigner, and how all the other people of the tribe came to circle him cautiously, and how he simply held out his hand to calm the nervous nightmare as they did. How Hoark ended up petting it on the head and brushing some spikes off its hide, and how the nightmare licked him gratefully, and Hoark began leading it away like an obedient wolf of Odin.

It had nothing to do with the fact that his stupid female nightmare hadn't once obeyed a single order he'd given it, or that it had flown up into the fray and helped the troops without Snotlout, or how Snotlout had ended up with only a few bruises and one terror to show for his courage and prowess while stupid Cattongue saved the day; and now there he was, talking with Astrid cheek-to-cheek, like they were lovers, and … what?

Fury rose in Snotlout's head, and he edged forward, circling one of the halls to come closer to those two.

"It's just a scratch, nothing serious,"

"That's for me to judge," Astrid hissed back at him. Snotlout peeked around and saw Astrid holding fistfuls of Cattongue's armour while he flexed his right arm.

"Damn it all, I don't need this right now, Hofferson," he growled at her, and she punched him on the right bicep – what was supposed to be one, anyway. Cattongue was as uselessly thin as his coward cousin. And whiny; did he have to gasp that badly for a love tap? Damn Hel's teeth, that had better not be a love tap!

"Let me see." That was Astrid's no-shit tone. Cattongue seemed to know that too, and he let her fiddle with his armour until his shoulder plates and right-arm coverings were off. Snotlout starting getting rather distracting mental images as he watched her hands run across his back and shoulders and chest and arm … "Nadder spike?"

"Barely penetrated. Seriously, it's nothing."

"They all say that, and then you start losing arms and legs," she hissed back at him. She squeezed his shoulder. Cattongue bit back a cry and faltered. Astrid jumped up and supported him. There was a sudden tension between them as she held him up and his left hand gripped her shoulder. Snotlout held his own breath as they seemed to hug for a moment (imagine that, hard-as-nails Astrid hugging anyone, ha!) before they straightened.

"Don't argue, you're coming with me to the healer," Astrid barked.

"The dragons, the Villagers…"

Astrid gave him a strange look. She turned to look at the gaggle of moving Vikings, making sure to keep a firm grip on Cattongue like he was a child – which made Snotlout snicker - and spotted the lucky bookworm carrying a number of logs for repairs (because the dragons hadn't taken anything, but they'd sure wrecked whatever they could find).

"Fishlegs! I'm taking him to the healer – can you and Meatlug take over until Stoick and this one get patched up? You need to find Spitelout for me and let him know, is that alright?"

"Leave it to me, Astrid!"

She turned back to Cattongue, and Snotlout wished more than ever that he could see that hideously scarred face of his at that moment, being completely bullied by a woman (even if it was Astrid). Snotlout began to snicker again, but apparently Cattongue didn't like to be bullied much either.

"I'll go with you on one condition," he told her as she tried to pull him after her and he stood firm. The idiot at least could stand, it would seem. His dragon came up beside him, as if not having the same faith that he would. Still, Snotlout felt a lick of envy as the black dragon obeyed him without words and sat down.

"What do you want?" Astrid asked impatiently.

Cattongue rummaged in the dragon's saddlebags and out came what looked like a bear fur coat, almost like the one Stoick wore. He draped it around Astrid, his right hand moving clumsily but still efficiently enough. Snotlout curbed the wish that his arm would fall off – it was un-Viking like. Better to fight Cattongue at full strength – that was already pretty puny next to his own, all told – and get greater honour in the sound crushing of his opponent.

"You got soaked through in the rain. We need all our warriors at their best – a couple got clobbered, and Stoick was injured today; we can't afford any more of this village's greatest fighters to go down. Especially taken by illness when it can be avoided."

The wish for Cattongue's arm to fall off reasserted itself when Astrid blushed. Astrid Hofferson did not blush, not unless she was so mad at you that your head was going to meet her axe. But she was only blinking up at that stupid foreigner like he was a ray of sunlight in the deep Winter. And whatever for? Snotlout had complemented her fighting abilities several times, told her she looked like she could take on an oak tree and win, and he'd offered to take care of her and do things for her before. Astrid had never given a favourable response; this upstart comes along and there she goes, blushing, even as she dragged him off and clutched the cloak to keep it on.

Snotlout nixed his initial plan to find his father before Fishlegs and be the one to tell him what was going on, and decided that he was going to keep an eye on those two. Clenching his fists and being as stealthy as he could, he walked after them.

=0=

This is, in fact, what the shorter chapters were leading up to. Hiccup has been a busy, busy man; the various shots of him teaching kids and in the forge were all clues to the things that came together here. And of course, lots of Hiccstrid love and confusion. I hope you enjoyed it.

I am sorry that I have not been answering reviews. I'm afraid that I will no longer be able to do that; my schedule just got busier, as I got chosen to give a paper at a conference. That's all I needed! Yey! ¬.¬ /sarcasm

Updates take place Tuesdays and Fridays. This story is completed. There are around 8 chapters to go.