Return
For years, Stoick has been working on keeping his son's recklessly impulsive habits in check and was met with varying degrees of failure. However, he had to admit that the way Hiccup handled himself on Bog-Burglar island really was impressive. Granted, the allure of being the dragon ambassador would make him bend over backward, but it seemed he actually did learn a lesson about responsibility and risk management. He really did accomplish a lot more than Stoick would have dared hope for and that was before sailing back home to leave him behind to train the Bog-Burglars some more.
Well, sail and row... and row... and row... into the wind...
Stoick's sides and arms were sore from the voyage he just completed. All that rowing gave him time to ponder something his son had mentioned a few weeks ago. Contrary to Hiccup's pouting, his words never go in one ear and out the other. Rather, they go in one ear and are stored in wine barrels, which are then sealed and moved into a cellar to ferment for an indeterminable amount of time. If these ideas are found to have some worth that deserves the time, manpower, and resources required, then they will have developed a more robust flavor with better character by the time that barrel is opened.
The idea in one of these barrels was looking tastier with each stroke of the oar. A couple months ago, Hiccup had been talking about when he and his dragon were goofing off on a small faering. He said that if the dragon sat in the middle of the boat and extended only one wing out at certain angles, they could sail into a headwind. Well, not directly, but they could allegedly tack into the wind in a way the square sails would not allow. Both wings extended supposedly limited their options, but one wing was supposed to be better.
Hiccup was beside himself with excitement when he explained this to everyone and insisted they all should immediately drop what they were doing and start working on this. Hence, the wine barrel.
Stoick decided that when Hiccup gets back - and he will maintain his promise to be back sometime today if he values his life - he could have some scraps of old, tattered sailcloth and rope lying around. Allowing him his fun of tinkering around with that would keep him out of trouble. It was, more than likely, just silly gibberish, anyway. How could a dragon improve the Viking's systems for sailing? A dragon inventor? Ha!
The chief crested the cliffside ramps and stepped onto the worn dirt path, shrugging the basket of his personal belongings back into the crook of his shoulder. The trip to the Burglars was well worth the time and effort, not just for the improved relations, but also because it taught Hiccup about protecting himself and his beast. The way he thought to get Camicazi to walk alongside the dragon as some sort of body shield against twitchy Burglars with spears was actually impressive. It was what tipped Stoick over the edge to allow him to proceed with that.
Now that they had the Burglars on their side or, at least, seeing more eye-to-eye regarding dragons, Stoick could start to work on other tribes. It was almost too much to hope for, but maybe they can see that anyone can befriend dragons, not just Berk. Maybe the Meatheads or, a more sure bet, the Hysterics. They're always blabbering about how the world is not flat, but round, and Hiccup had mentioned that he can see the horizon curve from high up in the sky. Perhaps that allure of testing their silly theories for themselves on dragon-back would convince a few to be loyal to Berk, then those few would inspire more.
Berk had tried to keep this dragon relationship bottled up for too long and Hiccup did have a good point that to hog all the power is to force everybody else to overthrow you. Berk never considered peace with the dragons from that angle, but "distributing the power" will surely win some neighboring tribes as allies. If they can get a couple dragons to accept a rider, then they would be more loyal towards Berk and a greater asset when a threat does arise. Not that any threat will occur this year, most likely. In only a couple months, the ice will set in, making travel by sea almost impossible. If the enemy hasn't attacked yet, they probably won't until next Spring, so that will buy some time.
The chief's musings were interrupted when a loud loud, frantic screech pierced the air. From the sound of it, this roar clearly was not a standard greeting Berk's dragons bellow out to announce their presence before landing; there was some sort of anger or frustration in that noise. He dropped his basket and his hand drifted towards the pommel of his new bastard sword strapped to his waist.
Just barely within his range of vision, almost invisible against the dim sky that was just starting to lighten in the early dawn, a black form cut through the fog to strike the ground at a steep angle, throwing up a cloud of dust. Running towards it, he recognized the Night Fury casting about in extreme irritation, wings half unfurled, pupils narrowed to slits and rapidly twitching around in their green orbs, tail frantically lashing back and forth.
Stoick tsked. Hiccup should know better than to land without going through the proper procedures and he has always done his best not to cause such a disturbance. People were running about in a panic; some towards the dragon with weapons drawn, others away in fear.
"Calm down, everyone! It's Hiccup and his dragon." Stoick bellowed at the nearby Vikings.
Then, turning back to the duo, he angrily shouted, "What in Thor's name is wrong with you, boy?! Your dragon almost flattened Bucket! Have you lost your mind?! Are you trying to cause so much... chaos..."
His angry diatribe was left to hang as he neared the dragon. Something was off. There was no rider on its back. There wasn't even a saddle. Maybe Hiccup had arrived earlier and unsaddled his dragon, but then why would the dragon be growling and snarling?
"Calm down, dragon," the chief shouted. "Do you have rabies or what?"
The Night Fury ran up to Stoick, sliding to a stop just in front of him, threw its head back, and gave out a loud, sad, moaning sort of roar.
Stoick crossed his arms and waited until he had the dragon's attention. He would be patient and calm the beast... before searching out Hiccup and wringing his neck for sending his dragon to town alone and in such an agitated state. That thing was a liability, sometimes, snapping at people just because it doesn't like the way they look at Hiccup.
"What's wrong, dragon? Where's Hiccup?"
The dragon pressed its nose into the ground and flopped down, rolling over on its back and shifting between groaning and shrieking, as if it was having a seizure.
"Where's Hiccup? Is he in danger?"
the Night Fury quickly jerked to its feet and started running circles around the chief, snarling, shrieking, snapping at him, hopping up on its hind legs to slam back down and thump its wings against the ground, pupils rapidly switching between rounded and slit. The beast appeared to be mentally unstable.
Stoick finally had enough and drew his sword. As expected, the dragon stopped and backed up, hissing and snarling. He was fairly sure it wouldn't actually attack, but at least it wasn't making him dizzy, anymore.
He casually sheathed his sword and said, "Just stop moving, ya scaly devil!" Looking at the crowd of Vikings who started to gather around this scene, he shouted, "Skuf! Tofa! Where are they? Someone find them. I need to know what this dragon knows."
While Stoick asked the Vikings around if they knew where to find the dragon whisperers, the dragon plopped its belly to the ground and started howling. A fresh cloud of dust was kicked up as it writhed around. Something must be very, very wrong to cause this sort of behavior. It was unlike anything he had seen before - far worse than the time Hiccup got a fever and the dragon decided that running around and nipping at people would make him get better. The absence of the boy could only indicate that he was missing or in danger, but if that dragon knew where to find Hiccup, nothing could be accomplished in such a state.
Stoick made a decision to try helping the dragon the same way he'd help any grieving warrior. The wailing was suddenly halted when he struck the dragon hard across the snout with the back of his hand, causing it to stumble to the side. It squared against him, body crouched low to the ground, roaring and snarling. Stoick was unphased. Though not to such a degree, this sort of behavior has been seen before in the Night Fury. It was the drama queen among dragons.
He simply stood there, rubbing his knuckles and glaring at the dragon with annoyance. "Are you going to sit there, whimpering like a lost puppy, or are you going to help me find Hiccup?!"
That immediately got the Night Fury's attention. It relaxed and dipped its head to the chief, waiting for something... anything.
"Good! Now, Hiccup is in danger, yes?"
A frantic whine was a sufficient answer.
"Is he on this island?"
A shake of the black head answered his question. Stoick still couldn't get used to such human gestures from a dragon. Questioning the beast like it was some person felt awkward, but he pressed on.
"Alright." He turned to the people milling around, curious at the scene. "This dragon needs a saddle. There's one in the training arena. I need someone to go get it and put it on this dragon. Someone else go find Astrid so she can ride it. I know if I tried, I'd break the poor thing's back."
Hoark shouted, "Right!" and took off, but the dragon sprinted after him, knocking him to the side in haste, probably going to get its own saddle.
Stoick scanned the crowd that had gathered around. "I need someone to blow the horn and call the dragon riders."
Two Vikings at the edge of the gathering shouted, "Got it!" and ran off at a sprint for a few steps, then stopped, trying to decide who would run to blow the horn. After a very brief hesitation, before the chief could pick one to just go do it, one of them shouted, "Go! You're faster, anyway," and the other set off at a headlong sprint.
"Right," Stoick said, putting on an unreadable face behind his large, red beard as he addressed the gathering of Vikings around him. "Has anyone seen Hiccup or his Night Fury? Before this incident we just had a moment ago, that is..."
There was no definitive response, but some people mumbled about how they haven't seen the boy and his dragon since he took off to Bog Burglar island. Others voiced some desperate shot-in-the-dark suggestions of where he might be... maybe the cove… maybe… One Viking suggested, "He's probably just sleeping at home with his dragon… oh." Stoick facepalmed.
The horn sounded out in the distance with loud, deep reverberations of a long blast followed by two short blasts. It was located on a high point at the edge of the village, by the cliff, overlooking the docks, on a rotating pedestal that allowed it to point in any direction. The call was repeated three times and the echos differed with each call as the horn was pointed towards the village, then towards the harbor, then the forest past the edge of the village, then the village again.
As the last call went out, the Night Fury came bounding up with Tofa on its back and a saddle clenched in its mouth. The little girl clambered down unsteadily.
"Too fast, Mr. Toothless sir!" she breathlessly squeezed out. "I was scared! Oh, hello Mr. Beast sir. Toothless says Firefly is missing. He was taken by Berserkers. I recognize their armor."
"Berserkers!"
It came out in a gasp from many people. Dagur had been campaigning to get support from other tribes to join in a unified attack against Berk to secure the dragons for themselves. If they had Hiccup as a hostage...
Stoick didn't even get annoyed with Tofa's use of someone's "dragon name". He could only stare. Gods help my son!
Skuf came sprinting up to the chief and stooped to catch his breath. He was wearing his usual brown tunic and leggings with leather moccasins that he finds comfortable for training.
He reached out his hand towards Tofa, who grabbed it and said, "Mr. Dragon Whisperer says he's sure Firefly was taken to a ship in the fleet- I mean... armada. More than the number of scales on Toothless. Skuf says that it may be well over three... thand? Thosen? Thound. Oh! Thousand! Sorry, sir, new word and it's strange to learn this way. They should be a few leagues out by now."
Stoick nodded, deep in thought. Four thousand is a massive army. His tribe would be outnumbered ten-to-one, not to mention that they'd probably be facing a lot of catapults and ballistae. Sure, he had the high ground advantage, but that isn't an insurmountable obstacle for such a massive force.
Furthermore, why is Dagir committing so heavily so soon? Fall was coming up and the Winter ice would not be the sort of conditions to establish a claimed territory. Why isn't Dagur waiting until the next Spring or Summer? Is he really that impatient? Also, why has there been no attempt at communication before launching such an armada? Usually, a demand is made first and there's a round of negotiating before committing to an attack. The last time a chieftain launched a sizable attack on another tribe only to turn around when he came to an agreement and realized there was a misunderstanding, he was executed. The tribe even kept him locked up so they could perform the Blood Eagle on him at the next intertribal Thing.
Could Dagur simply want to just raze Berk and go home? Could it really be that simple? If he wants Berk to show him how to control dragons, he will be very disappointed. Only the Red Death can control the beasts; the Hooligans just try to be nice to them in hopes they'll respond likewise, just like with their allied tribes. Even when Skuf and Tofa did their experiment to try to control Toothless, they had no effect.
Regardless, Stoick knew his people needed confidence. The first task at hand, then, would be to prepare for an invasion. He shouted out for Gobber, who was running in with an awkward peg-leg jog while his Hotburple dragon settled in a clearing at the edge of the town square.
"What's the hustle, Stoick?" Gobber asked.
"We have a full-scale invasion coming in and Hiccup is missing. Get your dragon and blow the horn to call everyone here."
The previous horn-blower had already returned and rolled his eyes at another call to be made so soon after the first. Gobber shouted a confirmation as he hobbled towards his dragon, which met him halfway. After a moment, the rapid flutter of wings could be heard ascending. A moment later, the horn roared out three long tones to summon everyone to the village square. Stoick saw that most of his councilors and commanders were already around him as he started to bellow out orders, causing people to run off to their assigned tasks.
"Ack! Take your men, cut down some trees, and set up some lumber as barricades to slow the enemy's movement from the forest. Leave the limbs on the trees; that will help to slow their advance. Setup tinder and kindling so we can quickly light them up if we need to. Also, get some logs setup on the cliff overlooking the ramp to the docks. Twenty should do. Make sure they can roll fairly easily."
Ack gave an evil grin as he acknowledged the chief and ran off to do the work. Flaming logs tumbling down on top of an army working their way up the ramps to the village would be very effective at stopping the advance from that direction and would not be detectable by the enemy until it's too late.
The chief continued to bellow out orders. "Spitelout, get the catapults ready and manned. Dandruff, take ten people who can man a boat. Scatter our fleet in a wide arc around the harbor to hamper the enemy's maneuvering as they try to pull up to our island. Make sure they would be willing to ride a dragon as that will be how they will get from the boat back to land."
While placing boats out there for the enemy to board may seem to give them the advantage, it would only add to the congestion as they would try to find a spot to pull up to land - all while dodging catapult projectiles. They would be smart to just navigate around the boats, but even that would slow them down and maybe even cause some collisions, knocking catapults, ballistae, and people off the deck.
Burning the docks sounded very tempting, but that would only make the enemy's options more clearly defined. If they are able to dock in the harbor, then some of them might be foolish enough to do just that. Tempting the enemy to choose a terrible option is usually better than forcing them to choose another that may be less defensible.
Just like in a game of Hnefatafl, Stoick mused. Forcing your opponent to make a bad move is more significant than making a good move, yourself.
Continuing his orders, he said, "Toenail, you're in charge of getting the livestock to their shelters. Take as many people as you need... after Dandruff gets his crew."
Stoick paused for a moment as if in thought. Then, turning to Skuf, who was rigging the saddle ropes to the tail fin, asked, "Did the Night Fury see any dragons with the attacking fleet? Do our enemies have trained dragons?"
Skuf locked eyes with the dragon for a moment, then Viking and dragon shook their heads at Stoick. The chief slapped his palm to his forehead as he realized he technically asked a mute rider to tell him what a mute dragon saw.
"Good!" Then, bellowing his voice to reach the sizable crowd that had gathered around, he continued, "Alright, listen up, everybody. We have a large army of angry Vikings headed our way. Even though they outnumber us, we have dragons. We also have the high ground advantage. If they want to fight on our turf, they will pay in blood for their arrogance!"
A roar sounded out from the Vikings gathered around, almost entirely drowning out a chorus of dragon roars overhead. People cleared a space as a Monstrous Nightmare, Zippleback, Gronckle, Deadly Nadder, and Hotburple landed.
"That's all the riders accounted for, Chief," Gobber called out as he dismounted. "Skullcrusher is coming, but I told him to just walk since it's crowded enough as is. He's all saddled up, though."
As the other riders dismounted, Stoick ordered, "Astrid, Ruff, Tuff, and Snotlout, find Dandruff at the docks and coordinate with him. Astrid, you're in charge of the riders, but you report to Dandruff."
Snotlout scowled and said, "Why does she get to boss us-"
"SNOTLOUT!"
The rider grimaced. "Sorry. Yes, chief!"
Tuffnut snickered at him and they shoved at each other, but they quickly mounted their dragons and flew off.
The chief whirled around. "Fishlegs. Take your Gronckle and find out how far away the enemy fleet is."
The stocky Viking took a frightened step back and clasped his hands together over his chest, writhing his fingers nervously. However, he just gulped and said nothing.
"Head South by SouthEast," Stoick continued. "Don't attack. Don't count the ships. Don't admire them or anything else. Just see where they are and turn tail. I need to know how far out they are. Just give me your best estimate."
Though he may not be the biggest dragon-hugger, Stoick knew the strengths and weaknesses of the dragons on his island. Gronckles are heavily armored, even on the underside, and their buzzing wings allow for quick changes in direction, making them good for evading enemy fire. Although they are slower overall and can't fly as far in a day as most other dragons, they are speed demons when it comes to tight maneuvering and dodging projectiles. "Like hitting a wary Gronckle" is a common euphemism for something that is next to impossible.
"Ummm, yessir. Will do," Fishlegs said, gathering his courage.
The stocky boy stumbled over to his Gronckle and heaved himself up into the saddle, adjusting the hardwood staff that was strapped to his back. He used to favor the hammer, but Skuf set him up with a staff as it gave him much more versatility and speed that allowed his stubby frame to keep up with the flurry of blows an enemy with a lighter sword can deliver while still allowing for power-strokes.
As Fishlegs and his dragon ascended straight up into the fog, Stoick scanned the area, looking for Skuf and Toothless. "And Skuf, I need you to... Skuf? Where did he go?"
"Mr. Beast sir?"
Tofa spoke up as she rested a hand on the Rumblehorn's large maw. The dragon had, apparently, walked over to the crowd without Stoick even noticing. It was laying next to the girl, staring at nothing in particular.
Stoick grudgingly recognized his "dragon name" and turned to regard the little girl, who shrunk back into the dragon, but gathered her courage and spoke up again.
"Dragon Whisperer is... I mean Skuf is going to get help. He told Toothless to tell Skullcrusher to tell me so I could tell you. He will be back soon"
The chief furrowed his eyebrows at the little girl. Picking up on Tofa's fear, the Rumblehorn protectively wrapped its tail around her. It did, however, briefly lower its head at the chief, possibly suggesting this was only meant to comfort the little girl and wasn't an act of defiance. Stoick had come to especially like this dragon for simple reasons like that. It was brutish, but still had a certain pragmatism and respect for authority and order.
The girl and the dragon stared at each other for a moment, lost in their unspoken dialog.
"What kind of help, Tofa?" Stoick asked. "Where is he going?"
With a nod to the dragon, Tofa peered at the chief over the thick tail. "He's going to the surrounding islands where many of the freed dragons live. He and Toothless are going to ask the dragons if any of them are willing to help us. He will tell them that an enemy has captured Firefly and is going to attack the home of the people who helped to kill the demonic queen. Oh, uhhh, Red Death"
The crowd of Vikings, which had quieted down to hear Tofa, suddenly surged into a loud din of talking and shouting. Some were hopeful that the dragons in the area would help them. Others insisted this was their fight and they would not be beggars indebted to any dragon. Stoick just put a large hand to his forehead, dragging it down his face in dismay.
If Skuf succeeds in convincing a large number of dragons to help Berk, then this will only make the political matters worse, regardless of whether Berk gets burnt to the ground or the attackers are repelled. However, if the attacking fleet is as large as Stoick suspects, he could use every blade, fang, claw, and talon he could get on his side.
A Gronckle roar sounded overhead. Stoick had just noticed that the fog started to lift and visibility was much improved, revealing a pink sky spotted with clouds. That was unfortunate as the limited visibility of the fog would have enabled their dragons to burn the enemy ships without taking much ranged fire. Now, though, they would be sitting ducks in broad daylight.
The Gronckle settled down vertically in a small clearing only a few paces from the chief. Fishlegs jumped down, out of breath, eyes wide with fright.
"Two leagues, sir," he gasped. "And it's a big fleet. Very big. The fog was lifting and I saw at least a hundred ships. Thousands of warriors. They have many catapults and ballistae. They fired at us as we turned tail, but good ol' Meatlug had no trouble evading such a laughable attack."
"Good work, Fish," Stoick said. "The other riders are down at the docks. Find them and offer your assistance."
As the stocky Viking and dragon ascended into the air again, Stoick bellowed out to everyone else around him. "Well, enough standing around. We have an island to defend. Get into your armor, grab your weapons and report to your commanding officers. Don't forget, we're fighting Vikings, not dragons. Iron armor or gambesons if you have it. Leather armor can work, too. If you can't swing a blade, get to the great hall. Alright? Now move!"
Phlegma the Fierce sidled up next to Stoick. She was a female Viking warrior, even larger than Big Bertha, but more chiseled and less rounded and shapely.
"Berserkers, eh?" she casually said in his ear. "I don't think you're any less surprised than me, though I never imagined so much support for them. And so sudden like this."
Stoick sighed. "The dragon roars, as the saying goes."
"Can you say 'shit-storm'?"
Stoick solemnly nodded. "Aye. We're dead either way. Skuf gets dragons to help us win, but there will be blood feuds against us from every tribe. Skuf does not get dragons to help and we get burnt to a crisp. And all because they think that we can simply summon an army of dragons out of our arse and that scares them. We either give them every justification for their fears or we die showing how full of shit they are."
Stoick ran towards his house to suit up for battle. He hurriedly tore through his chest of armor, tossing pieces aside to find what he needed.
The highly prized and expensive chainmail armor hasn't seen the light of day for quite a while. After the dragon attacks intensified a few decades ago, all tribal wars pretty much ceased in the area as everyone was playing catch-up in surviving the dragon raids. Chainmail would not protect against being impaled by talon, quill, horn, claw, or fang. However, it did provide a wonderful honeycomb to trap the still-burning fuel so many of those beasts spew out, cooking the ironclad Viking alive.
After blowing the dust off the iron greaves and vambraces, Stoick fastened them to his arms and legs. He found the chainmail vest to be a little tighter than he recalled as he fit it over his torso and tied it secure.
Armor must have shrunk over the years.
Out of instinct, he grabbed his horned helmet, but realized that would not do. Horned helmets had some effect in scaring dragons or, at least, confusing them and causing them to hesitate before attacking, but giving a human enemy something on your head to grab onto would be a terrible idea in a sword-fight. He found his other helmet with a smooth exterior, face guard, mail skirt for his neck, and curled rim along the bottom edge. With his new bastard sword and hand ax hanging from his belt, Stoick grabbed his large, metal-rimmed round shield and headed out.
Other warriors had gathered around or were emerging, also clad leather, mail, and gambeson. Everybody was gathering into their fighting units or finishing defense preparations. The clang of swords and soft taps of blades against shields and armor could be heard as the warriors reviewed tactics in sword-fighting.
Whether those dragons from the surrounding islands would help in the fight or not, there would be a lot of bloodshed and, no matter who wins, there will be a lot more fighting after today. As Stoick moved towards the bluff overlooking the docks, where the enemy fleet would be approaching from, he paused to admire the sight of the rising sun, which started to brighten the sky to a dark blue between the clouds.
Smoke will blot out that sun before it gets much higher, but there was only one concern that truly tugged at his mind.
Hiccup, I hope you're safe.