Stoick rubbed the back of his neck as the last villager left the hall. Dealing with the mayhem caused by those Thorston twins had been part and parcel to his daily duties for nearly eighteen years. There had been a period of time, after the teens had gone to live at the Dragon's Edge, where he'd wake, every day, expecting some sort of disaster that never came. To see the village at peace had been, almost, unnerving. Still, Berkians adapted quickly to new changes and, within days, he'd grown used to his new, less chaotic, rule. Having those characters back again, however, was trying the small amount of patience he had. With Hiccup as his son, there wasn't much leftover of that stoicism, despite his name.

Speaking of the boy, Stoick had naught seen a sign of the lad since midday the previous afternoon. When the boy was younger, they'd never much for talking, the two of them. Hiccup was just so... different. He tried, Hiccup... always he'd tried to measure up to his father's expectations – to fit in with the other vikings. But Hiccup's path had never been the one that Stoick had believed, once upon a time, to be the right one. Thank Thor for that. He made his father proud. Stoick often wished for the words to truly express that pride.

Recent years had softened things between them. Whether the boy would ever admit it, he had a natural ability for leadership that had grown with every summer. It had been one of the motivations in allowing Hiccup to go on that adventure with his Dragon Riders – ultimately building an outpost that was, not only masterfully crafted, but incorporated unique design features Stoick had never seen before. During his occasional visits home, Hiccup would share his ideas – which, in turn, had led to improvements with Berk's own fortifications.

Palms pushed against the massive table – shoving back his chair so he could stand and stretch his back. They had a few days, yet, before the first of the ships would begin to arrive. Trader Johann would likely be the first – always making a special trip for the festival. It was a good opportunity what with so many clans gathered in one place. Stoick wanted to speak with Hiccup about taking the Riders out on reconnaissance during the celebrations. With so many tribes on Berk, they also needed to be more vigilant for danger. Some of their enemies might see it as an opportunity to eliminate many of their foes in one go.

Gobber was the first one he'd check with. Hiccup spent a lot of his time with the blacksmith during his visits home. Even if the boy wasn't with him, Gobber, more than anyone in the village, knew everyone's business. What with being the most visited business in all of Berk, the man had more than his share of the local gossip. If there were secrets to be learned or disputes to be settled, Gobber would be the one to know about it.

*(oo)*

Something rough and blunt jabbed at his cheek and shoulder – never ending pokes that interspersed with small chirps and burbles.

Hiccup rolled his head away from the wet prodding. The rest of his body felt like a straw sack of old fish. He knew he wasn't in his room – neither the one on Berk nor the one at the Edge. Why he was lying on the ground, freezing, with about six pointed stones digging into his body was a question he was still a little too fuzzy to answer.

Shifting from the rocks, imprinting into his spine, roared memory back in all of the brilliant agony of his broken limb and the wail that jerked free was enough to startle away the rest of the fog from his mind. He froze, again, panting through his teeth while black heat roared the length of his leg. The pounding throb felt like Gobber's mallet slamming against an anvil. Chirruping trills and a harder nudge against his arm finally pulled his focus to the worried dark shape hanging over him.

"Hey, bud." It was the only words he could breathe out – biting down his teeth through another burning swell of agony. Grass tore up beneath his fingers and it was a stretch of lost time before he could come back to himself; breath heaving in shaking pants. Seconds after the pain eased back enough to concentrate, he realized he was leaning against the warmth of a dragon's side. Toothless was curled around him – the tip of his rough tongue softly licking between his pinched brows.

Hiccup lifted his right hand to rub fingers against the soft nose. "Thanks, Toothless."

The dragon rumbled – his shading wing moving to fold across his back; only then Hiccup realizing it was early afternoon. Which meant he'd been out for the whole night and half of the day, and...

"Where... are we?"

Craning his neck jolted new pain through his shoulders but he was able to pick out a few landmarks before his eyes blurred. They were in a small valley filled with trees – a clear path marking their crash to ground given the broken and toppled trunks. There was a deep groove a few meters back. Toothless must have carried him from the point of impact. Circling the valley were several high cliffs – some green with long yellowed grass while others were bare rock. Best of all, though, was the small loch a short way away. "Perfect crawling distance." He muttered.

Which, of course, brought him to the most urgent issue he'd pushed to the back of his to-do list; right behind waking up and blinking. His leg.

He'd been happy to study his surroundings, his impact crater, the straps of his gauntlets, Toothless' nose... Harder, though, was to roll his eyes to the left. For moments he kept them shut. When he opened them, it was to, first, squint. "Well... good thing I keep a backup leg attachment..." Voice leaking out in a depleted whisper. Not that it was damaged; just... gone. Then, he swallowed, knowing this wasn't something he could put off for a more convenient time.

His mouth opened but not even breath passed his lips. Oh... gods...

His tongue was dry and gulping was no help. Turning his face away from the mess of his leg, he vomited.

Toothless licked his forehead and Hiccup rubbed his hand across that broad face. Spitting sour from his mouth, he focused on the next steps.

"Alright, bud; there are some things I'm gonna need..."

*(oo)*

"Stoick! What can I do you for? Can I interest you in a new saddle for Skullcrusher? I've been working on a design with a high back. Better support for those long flights."

Heat from the fire pit created an oasis of warmth on the chilly afternoon. Already clouding up overhead, Berk appeared to be preparing for another downpour. So used to the belligerent weather, though, that even a threat of hail wasn't enough to slow the villagers from their tasks. Most took the blow-ups in stride considering that even a dragon attack, of years gone by, wouldn't have been enough to keep any self-respecting Hooligan indoors.

The purpose of his drop-by was shelved as Stoick took in the design sketch on the forge wall. He tilted his head while thick fingers scrubbed through his beard.

"Perhaps a cradle on the back for my axe."

Gobber lifted a charcoal tipped pencil from a mug on his messy desk. "Oh, aye! Good idea!" He added a few lines to the drawing – then lifted an eyebrow. "How about some sort of holder for your beer stein? We could fit one on each side!"

Stoick quirked his lip. "Are you suggesting the Chief of Berk fly while inebriated?"

Laughing, Gobber dropped the charcoal back in the mug and returned to the mace handle he'd been shaping. "You know as well as I do how well you hold your liquor. T'would take more than a couple'a draughts to tip you from the saddle. Now, were we to attach a whole keg..."

A rap at the small window pulled Gobber from his musing to collect a repaired helmet for Sven. The sheep herder tipped his fingers before whistling back towards his flock. Several more customers gathered at the window; as was how it typically went. Stoick helped to hand out completed work as well as take in fresh orders. He'd never lost his love of working the forge himself as a young apprentice – something he'd been proud to help instill into Hiccup.

Speaking of the boy...

"You see any sign of Hiccup this afternoon?"

Gobber scratched his chest as he stood back from his anvil. "Huh. Now that you bring it to my attention; I havn'eta seen the lad all day. Nor last night'either, come to think of it."

Still, though, Hiccup had been flighty even before he'd acquired a dragon. And, with the yearly festivities drawing close, it was nothing to wonder about that the young man would be out of reach most of the time.

Wiping a stained rag over his broad face, Gobber dropped onto a stool and propped his stumped leg on a barrel to knead at the flesh above the wooden attachment. "Ye worried about him?"

"No! No – and why would I be? Nevermind that he ran out on me yesterday and hasn't come back, yet."

"Ah... I see!" Dropping his leg back to the ground, the blacksmith winked towards his Chief. "Had The Talk, did ya?"

Stoick fumbled with the axe he'd been holding – thumb tracing across the honed edge. "Of course not! You told me you had The Talk when the boy was twelve!"

For all his sun darkened skin, Stoick went as pale as a Scottish maid fresh from a yak milk bath. Gobber pressed one beefy hand against his face and bit back on the urge to call out the younger man for being a daft idiot.

"Not that Talk – the other one! About the Bog Burglars?"

Slouching back against a supporting beam Stoick took a turn rubbing a thick hand across his brows. "Not exactly."

Hedging wasn't as typical with Stoick as it was for his offspring. For the large man to chew on his thoughts before spitting them out, it had to have been an awkward conversation.

"Not exactly, ay? Knowing Hiccup I'm certain he would have leaped at the chance to go over such a touchy subject with you!" Sparks rained from the metal struck on his anvil as he resumed working. Behind him, Stoick huffed out something that was partway between irritation and laughter. Gobber didn't really need the details to imagine how that little talk had played out between the Chief and his heir. Stoick was a true warrior and leader of his people. He was just as skilled swinging an axe as he was helping an ewe birth a lamb. For such large hands he was delicate and skillful in the crafting of weapons, saddles, or anything else that needed building. However, none of those qualities had ever been much aid when it came to his son. Even now, when they were truly understanding one another, at least about dragons, Stoick still approached important conversations as though he were going to war.

"I was leading up to it." Stoick grouched while pulling tanned leather over a saddle form. "The boy refused to listen. Scampered off before I could even begin discussing... it."

"Luinnseach mhor..." Low enough not to carry over the sound of his hammer – though Stoick was well used to the curses and insults of his oldest friend. The fact the man felt twitchy discussing it even to him was telling.

"So what did ye say?"

Halfhearted tapping holes along the edge of the shaped leather, Stoick sighed and dropped the tools back to the table. "Not what I should have."

Anything further from the man was lost in the next rush of customers – lined up twenty deep at the small window.

The rest of the afternoon was taken up by the two men filling orders until Stoick finally stepped away to deal with the rest of his daily Chiefing and leaving Gobber to man the forge alone.

*(oo)*

Hiccup's pain hummed a muffled note through pressed lips as fingers tightened the leather strap around his rough splint. A sharp head shake did little to throw sweat from his forehead so he swiped his temple against his shoulder. Toothless nudged against his other shoulder when he finally dropped back against the tree. He hugged his body and shuddered as the pain climbed up his thigh and radiated down through a foot he no longer had. Warm breath puffed across his face when he bit into his tongue – clamping down on the shrill sob jumping in his throat.

Instead, the whimpers and whines came from his dragon; the large creature pushing close against his side while the hurt climbed to a nearly insufferable peak.

It had taken nearly an hour for Toothless to find just the right branches to work as splints. Some were too thick while others had been too small, too flexible too fragile... He'd stripped Toothless of most of his harness; though he'd still hesitated, knife to leather, before sucking his lip between his teeth and going to work.

Far from perfect, he'd still managed to clean the blood well enough to see, with a full body shudder, that it wasn't the broken edge of bone that had left behind the gash in his thigh. Rather, it had probably been caused by the hunter's attack or even their crash to ground. While not completely certain, he'd thought the broken bone was out of place. More than likely given the way that boulder had struck him. Impossible for him to reset it himself, he'd stabilized it as well as possible through the hot throbbing of pain.

It was fading, now, at least. Enough for small movements as Hiccup gathered the remaining parts of his riding gear. The smaller straps he shoved into one saddlebag. The saddle and larger pieces of equipment he hid beneath a layer of earth and some leaf litter scraped across the top.

"Okay, bud. This next part... mmmmmm... yeah... it's gonna hurt. Probably a lot." He winced – slinging one arm around the dragon's thick neck. The attempt to sling his leg over the folded wings ripped a short yell from his chest and he pushed his forehead against a warm neck.

Toothless crooned and flattened himself to the ground – head tilting to peer back at his panting rider. Hiccup rubbed one hand along the dragon's jaw. "Th- thanks, bud." He gulped and pressed his eyes against his wrist – breathing the smell of warm leather and the comfortable mix of fish and reptile. Shoving his palm against his cheek and leaving a streak of wet, he reached across broad shoulders, again, and pulled – his right leg pushing his body halfway up. Forced to stop, once more, he ducked his face between his arm and choked as the agony roared to a higher peak. In that moment, Toothless began to roll to the left.

"Hey! Woah, woah, woah..!" Eyes snapping wide, Hiccup hugged his arms around the dragon's neck – only to shout as Toothless bucked; flipping him the rest of the way onto his back. More or less seated in place, Hiccup held his breath through the next spasm up his limb. All the while, Toothless kept still – tipping one ear back and cooing a soft warble.

Finally gasping out short puffs, Hiccup kept his back stiff as he rubbed Toothless between his shoulders. "Okay... let's go. Just... take it slow."

It was... agonizing.

Nearly two hours of starts and stops – Toothless making careful steps; trying not to jostle his rider but even small movements caused pain to fire through Hiccup's broken limb.

At the edge of the lake, Toothless flattened to his belly again; allowing Hiccup to make a slow slide back to the grass. Digging his forearms into the soil, he hauled himself to the edge of the water and washed the blood from his fingers; then cupped mouthful after mouthful. Once his thirst was beaten back, he splashed the sun warmed wet across his face and throat. Next to him, Toothless had slurped water before pouncing into the lake – returning with several fish after a few dives. He immediately began swallowing his catch – then waddled to Hiccup's side where he started churking.

"Toothless – no – ah, gods..." A partially chewed hunk of saliva coated bream landed in the grass beside him. Hiccup slapped his face in his hand while Toothless wiggled and nudged the fish closer.

Face twisting, Hiccup angled an eyebrow towards his dragon, who sat back and made a show of licking his lips. An eye roll seemed like the proper response. Following that, Hiccup pulled the saddle bag from his shoulder and managed to sit himself upright with only a moment or two of darkening vision.

One arm wrapped around his middle and he flinched at the sharp throb when his gauntlet rubbed the inside of his left arm; only then remembering the arrow that had sliced by him. Pulling back some of the split leather, he was able to see that it wasn't a deep wound and had stopped bleeding. Digging into his bag, he freed the jar of poultice that Gothi had prepared for his leg stump. With two fingers, he dug out a small glob and spread it across the gash – hissing as it stung.

Afterwards, he sent Toothless on another stick collecting expedition – this time less concerned for the quality of the branches. When he had enough for a decent fire, he had the dragon hit it with a small blast. Washing off his fragment of fish, he pulled the rest of the guts out and pierced it on a sharpened stick to roast.

Toothless watched all of this with his head tilted; murmuring and blinking at the odd human practice of cooking food.

"Yeah, well, just because you like it raw and wriggling doesn't mean I'm gonna eat it that way." In the hot fire, it took only minutes for the skin to begin to crisp. While Hiccup tested the meat for doneness, Toothless splashed back into the lake to catch more fish – leaving some of his catch near his rider – thankfully not pre-digested this time.

The fish helped; though his stomach was still twisting a bit. He sucked a breath when he leaned to wash the grease and scales from his hands – holding the groans in his lungs until the pain seeped back again.

He would need shelter, soon, but wasn't sure he'd be able to build even the simplest lean-to. Somehow he had to get himself to his feet. His spare leg attachment was useless to him, now, but maybe he could put together a rough crutch. It would hurt, but he had to do something towards moving them off this island and back to Berk. Though, one step before the other. Without his harness, Toothless was grounded. Hiccup debated whether he should remove the red tailfin as well. He didn't want the leather to chafe if they were there a long time... he swallowed.

"Hey, bud, come here."

Of course, Toothless bounded the other way.

"Tooth- Toothless! Come on! No – it isn't play time! Toothless!" Ignoring him, the dragon's back hunched as he leaped through the grass before flopping on his back with his feet waving above him.

Hiccup snatched up a handful of the grass and sniffed it. Dragon nip. Perfect.

Fine, he'd remove the fin later. Instead, he turned his eyes back towards the pile of branches that remained from the fire. It was the same problem he'd dealt with when creating his splint. The majority were dead and too fragile to hold even his slight weight. However, he finally dig free a couple that might work. One was tall enough and, with a little trimming, could maybe work. However, it didn't have a forked branch to cradle his shoulder. The other had a fork but it was a little on the short side – only about five feet. However, with a little craftsmanship and the use of his remaining leather straps, he might be able to put together something that would work.

So, leaving Toothless to his field, Hiccup unsheathed his knife and began to trim.

*(oo)*

"Lord Arnau, we've spotted a landmass about fifteen leagues off starboard. At our current speed we could reach it a few hours after nightfall."

Wind gusts slapped cold sea spray across the bow; spattering the larger man's fur cloak with icy drops. Black hair whipped across his eyes, though it went ignored. The crewman beside him waited in silence.

Above the seabirds circled their ship.

Head tipping back, Arnau closed his eyes to breathe in deeply; flaring his nostrils at the flavors of salt and wet wood carried on the air currents. His crewman could only see one side of his face at that angle – the skin covered in blue black ink of lines and serrated patterns that divided his features; half man, half devil according to many of the crew.

Finally, his head dropped back down. Never turning from the ocean, Arnau smiled.

"Take us there."