Spoiler warning for Beowulf (That's right, the Old English poem)

The sunshine on her belly was lovely. She didn't even mind the cool shadows dancing around as the leaves were swayed by the breeze. The Nightmare lay on her back enjoying the morning, purring away as she waited for her hatchling to leave the large cave. She had seen him go in with his sire earlier. The ground was less muddy today; she wanted to see if hatchlings avoided the sun or if it was just mud.

Vikings looked funny upside down she thought as she watched the opening of the cave with half open eyes. Two small figures burst out of the opening and nearly fell down the steps in a tangle of limbs. They were followed by four more young ones who stayed a safe distance from the first two. The Nightmare rolled over and shook herself; her hatchling was in the group. They didn't go far; there was an empty space where they stayed. There were mud puddles and the dragon was confused; they were supposed to avoid mud. Yet there they were, running around in it, squealing and yelling. They appeared to like the sunshine.

It was odd, the little female seemed to be the alpha but the Nightmare knew that her hatchling's sire was the alpha of the nest. It would make more sense for her little one to be the alpha among the hatchlings. The other little ones played with him but her hatchling was smaller than the others and while they tolerated him they were too rough for her liking. She almost stepped in but a female Viking was heading through the empty space and shouted at the hatchlings, pointing at the mud on the ground and on them. They were shooed away to find a dry place to play. Ah. It was about being clean. The Nightmare cocked her head; why not wash the hatchlings later and let them play now? The little ones ran off deeper into the Viking nest and she grumbled. They were out of her sight.

Hours later she saw her hatchling running up the hill. The mud on his legs and feet had dried and he had dirt on his hands and face as well. His coverings were filthy, there was a tear on one of his knees but he smiled as he ran. The Nightmare stood in the trees a little anxious; he seemed so unsteady as he ran up the hill. Sure enough he slipped, dust clouding around him as he fell flat on the dried ground. She would have blown her cover then and there but the hatchling's sire beat her to it. She hadn't seen him coming up from the nest, as she had been preoccupied with watching her hatchling. The little one's sire knelt down and pulled him to his feet.

"What have I told you about running on the hill?" Stoick said, dusting Hiccup off.

"Don't." Hiccup pushed his father's hands away, "I'm fine, Dad."

"You didn't get this dirty from falling on the hill. What did I tell you about the mud?"

"Thtay out of it." Hiccup said as he took Stoick's hand. He skipped along next to Stoick, hanging off his dad's arm and swinging every few steps. Stoick steered him towards the house causing Hiccup to frown,

"Why are we going home?"

"You need to wash up and change." Stoick said.

"Why?" Hiccup lifted his feet off the ground and hung on Stoick's arm for several steps.

Stoick rolled his eyes, "You're covered in dirt, Hiccup." Thankfully, Hiccup had lots of clothes. The women of the village felt bad that he had no mother to make them for him and assumed Stoick either couldn't or didn't have time to. They all, all, took it upon themselves to supply Stoick with clothes for Hiccup, as if the boy was some charity case. While he appreciated their help Stoick found it to be an added stress to have to remember who gave what and make sure no one was offended by never seeing Hiccup wear what they made him. In a few years that would stop, only children went through that many clothes. Then, Hiccup would have only two or three outfits like everybody else.

When her hatchling and his sire went into their nest the Nightmare turned into the woods to go back to her cave. Chances were she wouldn't see her hatchling again tonight and she needed to go back to her cave for a little bit; she should be there to visit with him for a little while. He was starting to get jealous and that would never do. She'd come back later.

"So, havin' a story night." Spitelout said as he sat down next to Hiccup. Stoick nodded,

"Last one of the year. Hiccup, eat the cabbage." The last was directed at his son who poked at the stew in front of him.

"I don't like eel." Hiccup said as he poked at the vague, lumpy, disgusting liquid with his spoon as if it would magically change if he kept at it long enough.

"So they're starting with Beowulf." Spitelout said conversationally, "Why'd you get him the stew?" Spitelout cut into his roast boar. Stoick had taken the spoon from Hiccup and was fishing out the eel to put on his own plate.

"His missing tooth bothers him when he chews. There," Stoick said to Hiccup, "Eat what's left in the bowl."

"It thtill tathteth like eel." Hiccup complained, "Can we thtay for Beowulf?"

Stoick gave his brother the stink eye, but Spitelout ate his boar and pretended he didn't see. "If you eat your stew." Stoick told Hiccup. He didn't miss the little grin on Spitelout's face.

"Ya can't leave before Beowulf!" Gobber said as he sat next to Stoick with his own meal. "Where's that lad o' yours, Spitelout?" He asked when Stoick ignored him.

"Around somewhere I suppose, his mother brought him. I just came down from the fields. Flooding's down by the way."

Stoick nodded, "Good. We begin moving the herds tomorrow."

"What'cha doin' there, sparrow?" Gobber asked as he leaned forward to see Hiccup past Stoick. The boy was fiddling with his stew, using his spoon and fingers to pick through it.

"Checking for eel." He said without looking up. Stoick put his hand to his brow,

"I took all the eel out, Hiccup. Just eat it." He ignored Gobber's chuckle.

"You know, Thistleface's offer still stands." Spitelout said. Stoick glared in answer. Hiccup may be frustrating but he was Stoick's son and Stoick would raise him.

"But Dad, it thtill tathteth, tath, tasteth like eel." Hiccup said turning to his father. He glared at Gobber for laughing at his lisp.

"Eat the cabbage." Stoick said with a sigh.

"That tath, tasteth like eel too."

"It's all in your head, Hiccup." Stoick said. He tore a hunk off of his bread and put it next to Hiccup's bowl. "Eat the cabbage and the bread then you can stay for Beowulf."

"We starting at sunrise then?" Spitelout asked, "Should you really be bargaining with him?"

"No, afternoon. Let the ground dry first, it'll be easier going. We'll be here all night if I don't. Kid's got a stubborn streak in him that stretches further than a dragon can fly." Stoick said.

Gobber gave a chuckle, "Don't know where he'd've got that from."

Spitelout eyed his nephew who was tearing the bread and building a dam in his stew rather than eating it; swinging his feet since they didn't reach the floor. "We need to build a temporary corral then. We won't get them all the way down in half a day."

"Pegs and rope. Like we did last year." Stoick said, "It worked well enough." Until Hiccup had tried to 'help'; accidentally loosening part of the makeshift fence. Speaking of Hiccup the boy was currently climbing off the bench. "What do you think you are doing?" Stoick asked blocking Hiccup with his arm.

"Getting thome water." Hiccup said innocently.

"What's wrong with your milk?" Stoick asked not buying the innocence for a moment.

"Nothing. It jutht won't work ath well ath water for a pond."

Spitelout looked confused but Gobber was chuckling again, "What pond?" He asked. Hiccup turned sideways on the bench and pointed at his stew. There was an empty spot in the middle of the bowl; the stew was against the edges, held there by the bread. Stoick moved Hiccup around to fully face the table.

"Sit. Eat." He looked at Spitelout, "When does the storytelling start?"

Spitelout scratched his cheek, "They were waiting for everyone to get here and get their food. I'd give it another five to ten minutes."

"I'll give you three minutes to finish your supper, Hiccup. If you're not done you don't get to stay for Beowulf. Deal?" Hiccup observed his bowl and crinkled his nose,

"But,"

"Deal?"

Hiccup picked up his spoon and hung his head in defeat. "Deal." He said miserably.

"Good. Spitelout are you able to move the herds without me tomorrow? I wanted to take a check around the coast now that the water's calmed."

"Aye, you have the route picked?" Spitelout asked.

Stoick nodded, "And the spot for the temporary corral." He watched Hiccup slowly eat. "All the bread, Hiccup."

"But it'th too hard."

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Dip it in the stew to soften it." He turned to Gobber, "You okay taking him tomorrow? I'd rather not have to watch him on the boat."

"Whatever ya need, Stoick. He's no trouble in the forge." Gobber caught Hiccup's eye and winked.

"Thank you. He fell over board last time. Claimed he saw a Scauldrun."

"I did thee one," Hiccup said, "It wath a little one."

"Eat your supper, Hiccup." Stoick said again. Hiccup went back to dipping his bread in the milk. The stew bowl had been pushed away. "I'll give you the route and resting place later tonight, Spitelout. After Hiccup's in bed." The kid was too much a distraction to go over the plans now and they all knew it.

"You know, Thistleface can take him for meals and put him to bed for ya." Spitelout said.

"I've got it all under control." Stoick said evenly, "I don't need someone to take him unless I'm going away for the day."

"Alright," Spitelout raised his hands, "Just thought it'd be easier on you to get a break." Stoick glared. If he needed a break from anything it was dealing with the blockheads in the village, not his son.

"I'm done, Dad. Can we thtay for the thtory?"

Stoick could see that the stew had only been picked at but at least the bread was gone. That hadn't been the deal though and Stoick hesitated in answering.

"Come on, Stoick." Gobber said, "You've been goin' all day. Take a bit o' a break."

Stoick sighed, "Fine,"

"Yeth!" Hiccup shouted.

"Finish your milk," Stoick continued, he could at least add that stipulation to make up for the uneaten cabbage. Hiccup picked up the cup. A few minutes later Bur Vomitbreath stood up and the Hall quieted.

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by

And the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness.

We have heard of those princes' heroic campaigns.

There was cheering and banging of mugs at the familiar beginning and people settled in for the long story. Bored with the long introduction, filled with backstory and family lines, Hiccup traced the grains in the wooden table with his finger. There was loud booing and Hiccup forgot about the grains in the wood as the monster, Grendel, was introduced. Bur's voice rose and fell so skillfully that Hiccup was pulled into the magic of the story, kicking his feet so fast the bench was vibrating. Stoick pulled the lad up onto his knee to put an end to that, effectively pulling Hiccup back into reality.

"Tho, ith Grendel an ogre or a giant?" Hiccup asked.

"Neither," Spitelout told him quietly so as not to disrupt the story, "He's a monster that should be human but isn't. That's why he goes into the hall to kill Hrothgar's men." He didn't go further with his description; he could tell he'd be in for a beating if he did - grown men or not. There were certain lines you didn't cross with Stoick the Vast unless you wanted a beating and they all involved Hiccup.

…he grabbed thirty men

From their resting places and rushed to his lair,

Flushed up and inflamed from the raid,

Blundering back with the butchered corpses.

"How is the story of Sigmund worse than this?" Gobber attempted to whisper, leaning over. Stoick furrowed his brow. "Right, right. You have issue with infanticide and incest in his stories." Stoick rolled his eyes.

"You told him the story of Sigmund? Sigmund Volsung?" Spitelout whispered as he leaned forward to see Gobber better. At Gobber's nod Spitelout asked, "What is wrong with you? The kid's eight." Gobber just shrugged.

There was no one else like him alive.

In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth,

"That'th Beowulf, right?" Hiccup asked. Stoick nodded and Hiccup settled back against his father's chest, "But you're mightier than him. I bet you could take on two Grendelth." Spitelout and Gobber rolled their eyes but smiled all the same. Stoick himself pretended not to care but was beaming inside. There was a great cheer in the Hall and much banging of mugs when Beowulf finally named himself. Hiccup covered his ears at the noise. The next bit of the story was talk between Beowulf and Hrothgar. Interest waning Hiccup played with the leather bindings on his father's wrist. Gobber got up from the bench and stretched,

"They've got honey cakes I hear," He started but Stoick grabbed his wrist with his free hand and said in a low voice,

"I swear to Odin, Gobber, if you give him anything that'll keep him up you can take him for the night."

"Got it loud n' clear." Gobber said.

"You know, I could go for some-" Spitelout began.

"Same goes for you, Spite. You ever deal with a hyper child on a sugar high in the middle of the night?"

"I was gonna say more mead," He continued with a cheeky grin that said he wasn't. "I think you could do with some too. I'll help ya, Gobber. Milk for the lad?" Hiccup had unwound the leather and was wrapping it up again, albeit rather sloppily. Stoick would have to fix it later.

"He might not drink it this late." Stoick said.

Spitelout shrugged, "But he might. Warm it up with a touch of mead and it'll put him to sleep."

"No mead." Stoick said. Knowing those two it would be more than 'a touch.' When Beowulf began telling of his ordeal in the sea Hiccup paid attention again, forgetting about the leather on his dad's wrist. Stoick quickly tied it off for the time being.

"Dad, have you ever thwimmed that far? Were there whale beathtth?" Hiccup asked. Stoick chuckled,

"No, Hiccup. And it's 'swum' not 'swimmed.'"

Hiccup twisted around so he could see his dad, "But you could, right?"

"I've never tried."

Hiccup turned back around and settled against Stoick again, "I bet you could."

Gobber set a mug of mead in front of Stoick and sat down. Before Spitelout could give Hiccup the mug of milk, however, Stoick took it and tried a sip.

"What? You don't trust us?" Spitelout said with mock insult. Stoick gave the mug to Hiccup, certain there was no mead in it.

"Both hands, Hiccup." He said. The boy eyed the contents of the mug, took a drink, and put it on the table. "Why would I trust you two after the Snoggletog incident?"

Gobber shrugged, "There was no harm done. The lad spit it out."

"You still gave a seven year old a mug of ale. I left him with you for a few moments that's all, and you gave him ale. He told me you said it was a new type of apple juice so don't act innocent."

Spitelout shrugged, "He didn't drink it."

"What would you have done if he had?" Stoick asked.

"Shhh, Dad, it'th the good part! Grendel'th there." Hiccup said.

Gobber and Spitelout suppressed their laughter as Stoick glared ahead. Throughout the fight of Beowulf and Grendel Hiccup squeezed his dad's fingers, drawing Stoick's attention back to him. He was watching Bur with wide eyes. The boy had only heard the story once or twice. The adults, though, had heard it several times and got more entertainment out of watching Hiccup than listening to the story of Beowulf.

…clear proof of this

Could be seen in the hand of the Hero displayed

High up near the roof: the whole of Grendel's

Shoulder and arm, his awesome grasp.

Hiccup let out the breath he'd been holding and loosened his grip on his father's fingers.

"Beowulf won?" He asked to be sure.

"Yup. Ripped the monster's arm clean off. That'll do the beastie in." Gobber declared rather loudly earning him several dirty looks, all of which he ignored.

"But you lotht a hand and a leg and you're not dead." Hiccup said. Spitelout and Stoick both snickered.

Gobber scratched his chin, "Ah well, I'm a lot tougher than that monster. I also had help when it happened." Hiccup blinked a few times with his head tilted as he took this in and thought about it. He said nothing further though and turned back to the story teller. The aftermath of the battle and celebration was not exciting enough to hold his attention. He yawned. Stoick noticed him slouching and pulled him up, holding the boy steady with one arm. Hiccup yawned again and rubbed his eyes.

"Seems like someone's ready for bed." Spitelout said.

"Who?" Hiccup asked still rubbing his eyes. Stoick shook his head and Spitelout gestured vaguely to the Hall,

"One of the other kids." Spitelout understood that Stoick would rather have Hiccup fall asleep here than tell him he had to leave during the story. It was easier. Spitelout had dealt with Snotlout when he was tired enough to want to avoid dealing with a tired Hiccup. He was more headstrong than Snotlout. Hiccup went back to playing with the leather strap on his dad's wrist. He shifted so he leaned back on his dad more and rested his head on Stoick's shoulder. Gobber laughed.

"What's so funny?" Spitelout asked him. Hildeburh was lighting the funeral pyre for her son and brother in the story and it was hardly a laughable scene. There were even some tears in the audience; all of which would be denied.

"Oh, jus' thinkin'." Gobber said, "All them other kids 'fraid of Stoick and little Hiccup here cuddling up without a care in the world." Stoick turned to Gobber with his eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Didn't know, did ya?" Gobber said with a smile, "Oh yes, all them kids are scared of ya."

Stoick pulled Hiccup up again, "They are?"

"Yup." Gobber said taking a drink from his mug, "They play out in fron' of the forge as it's dry there. I hear 'em talking. Yer boy's got a scraped knee, by the way." He took another drink. Stoick turned to his brother,

"Did you know about this?" He asked.

"The scraped knee? Nope." Spitelout took a drink of his mead and endured Stoick's stare. "Oh, all the kids are scared of ya. Don't look so surprised, yer imposing." He glanced down at Hiccup slowly playing with the leather wristband, his head resting on Stoick's shoulder and his eyelids drooping. "Most of the time." Stoick grunted and rolled his eyes. They went back to the story. Hiccup's hands stilled holding the leather. Stoick gently took the wristband from him. When that didn't wake the boy Stoick carefully shifted him around so his back was supported by Stoick's arm, his head resting in the crook of Stoick's shoulder. He was able to sleep for a while.

…Then it became clear,

Obvious to everyone once the fight was over,

That an avenger lurked and was still alive,

Grimly biding time. Grendel's mother,

The people in the Hall shouted their hatred for the monster and banged their mugs or hands on the tables. The sound startled Hiccup awake. He rubbed his eyes, unconcerned with the noise since his father seemed unconcerned. He turned his head to see Bur standing in the middle of the hall.

"What'th goin' on?" He mumbled.

"Grendel's mother's come for revenge." Spitelout whispered to him. Hiccup yawned and sat up; pushing around to see Bur better while still nestled against his father. The story had picked up considerably; the urgency of Bur's voice waking him up fully.

"She thtole Grendel'th arm?" Hiccup asked. He was squeezing and releasing his dad's thumb and first finger with his small hands. Stoick nodded. "She'th thcarier than Grendel, ithn't she?" Hiccup whispered pulling his father's hand closer. Stoick nodded again.

"Wise sir, do not grieve. It is always better

To avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning."

There was loud cheering in the Hall and more banging of cups. Hiccup looked around the room confused. Had he missed something?

"What happened?"

"Nothin' happened. They just like what Beowulf said." Spitelout told him. The Hall was silent again as Bur Vomitbreath told of how Beowulf tracked Grendel's mother through the woods to the 'bloodshot water.' Hiccup gasped with the rest of the crowd when they discovered Aeschere's head. Gobber and Spitelout chuckled again paying more attention to Hiccup than the story. Stoick rolled his eyes at the pair.

"Ya know, Gobber, I'm beginnin' to see why you told him the story of Sigmund." Spitelout said, "The entertainment value." Stoick narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Would you like him to tell it to Snotlout?" He asked.

"No, no." Spitelout said taking a drink, "Inappropriate. But Hiccup's my nephew. I don't need to worry 'bout that with him, you do. I get to corrupt him." Beowulf was preparing himself for battle and a long dive so Hiccup wasn't paying attention to the adults. He watched the story teller with wide eyes.

"Entertainin' yes, but also keeps him out of things." Gobber said. His attention was on Hiccup though, as Beowulf engaged in battle with Grendel's mother. Hiccup was gripping his father's thumb and finger so tight the boy's knuckles were white.

The hero observed that swamp-thing from hell,

The tarn-hag in all her terrible strength,

Then heaved his war-sword and swung his arm:

The decorated blade came down ringing

And singing on her head. But he soon found

His battle-torch extinguished: the shining blade

Refused to bite.

Hiccup gasped again and let go of Stoick's fingers to hug his arm, squeezing his eyes shut; the battle wasn't looking good. There was shouting all around and the battle raged on. Hiccup cuddled in closer, pulling his father's arm around him more. Suddenly the Hall erupted in cheers and banging so loud Bur fell quiet. Hiccup let go of Stoick's arm to cover his ears. When the noise finally died down he looked up at his father,

"What happened?"

Gobber laughed, "He killed the monster, lad. Ya miss it?"

"How?" Hiccup asked sitting up strait.

"Beowulf found a new sword and beheaded her." Spitelout told him.

"Oh." Hiccup focussed on the story again while Hrothgar gave up on waiting.

"Why'th Hrothgar leaving Beowulf?" Hiccup whispered looking up at Stoick.

"They think Beowulf's dead." Stoick whispered back.

"But he'th not dead, Grendel'th Mother ith." Hiccup mumbled. All was straightened out when Beowulf brought the monster's head and the sword hilt to Hrothgar. "Thee? He shouldn't have left." After that was more talking which bored Hiccup.

"Dad, what happened to thith?" Hiccup asked patting the leather wrist wrap on his father's left arm.

Stoick checked it, "Nothing Hiccup, it's fine."

"Not that one, thith one." Hiccup tapped his father's bare right wrist. The one Hiccup had been holding.

"Must've fallen off." Stoick said. He hadn't secured it when Hiccup had fallen asleep earlier. Hiccup leaned forward and Stoick put an arm around him to keep the boy from falling.

"I think I thee it." Hiccup said pushing his dad's arm off. He slid off Stoick's knee and knelt under the table to grab the leather. He stood up and tried to climb back onto Stoick's knee but got tangled in the long strip. Stoick pulled him up and settled him in as Hiccup untangled himself. Hiccup then proceeded to wrap the leather around Stoick's wrist. There were minor celebrations for other parts but it was long past Hiccup's bedtime and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. As Beowulf was telling Hygelac of his adventures in Hrothgar's lands Stoick slowly got up from the bench, adjusting Hiccup in his arms.

"Yer not leaving?" Gobber exclaimed rather loudly. A few people turned to see what the commotion was. Stoick nodded at Bur who nodded back when he saw that Hiccup had fallen asleep. "The dragon hasn't even shown up yet." Gobber went on.

Stoick snorted quietly, "I'll survive. Putting Hiccup to bed, I'll be back." He took the partly wound wristband off and set it on the table.

"You can't take our entertainment away." Spitelout said looking up at Stoick.

"He's going to bed. Use your own son for entertainment." Stoick told him.

"Can't, he's already in bed."

"Come on Stoick," Gobber began.

"You have him all day tomorrow Gobber. Do you really want him staying up any later?" Stoick asked. Hiccup stirred a little as the room got loud.

Gobber gave a nervous chuckle rubbing the back of his neck, "Yeah, the lad looks wiped, should be in bed."

Stoick rolled his eyes. "Thought so. I'll be right back. Give you more details about moving the herds down tomorrow then, Spite."

The stars were out as the Nightmare crept up to her hatchling's nest. Something was off, no one was inside. It was too still. Panic rose in her chest; where was her hatchling? She smelled the air but his scent was faint and mixed with other Vikings and it was all over the Viking nest; she wouldn't be able to find him that way. There was shouting coming from the large cave and it was distracting. She had to find her hatchling. The noise became louder and clearer for a moment; her patience gone the Nightmare whipped her head toward the noise and the growl died in her throat. Relief washed over her. The Viking started down the steps with her hatchling in his arms. The little one was sleeping, nestled securely in his sire's arm, his hand held on to the Viking's tunic. He was on his way to his nest so the Nightmare slunk back to the trees before she was seen. From there she watched the Viking head into the nest with her hatchling. Several minutes later the Viking came out and went back to the large cave. Narrowing her eyes the Nightmare watched him go. The fool was leaving his hatchling undefended in a visible nest. She had learned all she needed; it was time for her and her hatchling to leave.

A/N: The translation for Beowulf I used was Seamus Heaney's. This is probably my favourite chapter, I don't know why though. I literally had my copy of Beowulf open and was reading along as I wrote this so all the reactions and such should match with the story. I recently bought Tolkien's translation and am looking forward to reading it.

Thank you for all the reviews

Monkey lover 911: Thank you, but I can't answer your questions without spoilers so you'll just have to wait and see :)

As usual, special thank you to CB. (Who is in just as much suspense as the rest of you, she just happens to be a week ahead.)