Whoever said Chapter 40 was going to be the last chapter in this story?

I Own Nothing

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Chapter 41

Apotheosis

Astrid looked down at the large pile of parchment on the table and raised her eyebrows. "That's quite a book, Fishlegs,"

"Well, your husband was the most extraordinary man I ever knew. There was a lot to write about," Fishlegs Ingerman answered, reddening a little. "There are a few gaps, sadly, especially in the early years. Even Toothless couldn't tell me everything I wanted to know, but I think it's as comprehensive it'll ever be." He sat down in a chair and put a hand to his forehead. "Man, it's a relief to finally have it finished! Five years! Can you believe it? You have any idea how many of his old journals I've gone through over and over again, looking for all the tiny biographical details? I nearly drove old Toothless crazy with the endless questioning!" He flexed his fingers. "Five years of work! I think my hands are going to be permanently cramped up from all the writing."

"I'm sure Hiccup would be flattered you put so much effort into his first and so far only biography." she said, glancing at a page.

"Go on, read it!"

Reluctantly she put it aside. "Later. Look at this." She held up a letter. "It's from Camicazi. Since Gort died without an heir, rivals have been fighting over the Owl Guts Chiefdom, and apparently they'd decided to settle the matter with a looting contest, went to raid some merchant ships, and got decimated."

"So us and the Bog Burglars are all that remain of the Vikings in these parts?" Fishlegs asked uneasily. The Meat Heads had been so few in number that their tribesmen had either struck out on their own or joined with the Bog Burglars. This unification had been sealed by the marriage of Thuggory and Camicazi.

"Pretty much. There are still a handful of small tribes scattered here and there, but they won't amount to much." She put the letter down. "Gort once envisioned a Vikings collation, you know. He wanted a great alliance of Viking tribes united by a common culture, something strong enough to match the other powers in the world. Hiccup thought like that too sometimes, only he wanted dragons to be a part of it. But now? Now I think there's no chance there'll ever be one."

Someone pounded loudly on the door.

"That's Gobber knock if I've ever heard it,"

It was Gobber all right, and he had been pounding on the door with his hammer appendage because his legitimate hand was holding a small girl by the back of her shirt. She was no older than five and had russet red hair which almost matched a face that was ripe red with embarrassment.

"Chief, I've caught 'er pinchin' from ma leather supplies a-gin!" he announced. There was amusement rather than ill-will in his tone, but that did not stop the girl from trying to pull free from his grip. From his position by the empty fireplace, Toothless the Night Fury looked up in alarm, ready to strike at once if they mishandled the girl in any way.

Astrid looked more bemused than concerned. "Solveig, what did I tell you?"

"Not ta steal from Uncle Gobber's leaffer," the girl said.

"Leather. Put your tongue between your teeth." Astrid said.

"Leaffffffer." Gobber set the girl down and Toothless darted over to her. She put her arms around his leg with difficulty, for his legs were nearly too thick for her reach, and he nuzzled her.

Astrid said, "We'll work on it later, sweetheart. But first, you give back whatever you've stolen from Uncle Gobber."

"But I'm gonna make a new sad-ill fa Tooffless!" she protested. "You say I can't fly on Tooffless cause I'm too small, so I think it's cause the sad-ill's too big, so I think if I change sad-ill, I can fly on Tooffless!"

Astrid put her head in her hands. So her daughter thought the reason she could not ride on Toothless was because the saddle was too big for her? She went over to Solveig and picked her up. "Sweetheart, I don't want Toothless to take you flying because you're too small—"

"I know! So I try to fix it!"

"Changing the saddle size isn't going to fix this, Solveig. You need to grow more first."

"Yes it will! I got plans!" She held up a sheet of parchment with numerous charcoal doodles on it. "It'll works! Toofffless and I go flying! We'll touch the clouds, mommy! Daddy wood-n't mind!"

"Oh believe me, Solveig, your father would have minded an awful lot if you went flying on Toothless at your age." Astrid said heavily.

"Only if she'd gone alone!" the Night Fury said, "He'd never have objected if he was with her!"

"Gobber, do you want everything returned or should I just compensate you this time?"

Gobber shrugged dismissively, "Aw, jest ferget it. Ah jest wanted ya ta know wot yer daughter's bin upta. Now, if ya'll x-cuse me, ah've got work ta do." He headed out the door with a laugh.

"Perhaps I should be going to?" Fishlegs suggested.

Astrid asked him to wait. Then she told Toothless to take Solveig upstairs. "But don't you dare think of going flying with her!" she added sharply in Dragonese, "I told you very clearly: not until she's 10!"

Toothless snorted impatiently as he chased after Solveig.

Stormfly the Nadder had been sitting in a corner, watching and listening. "I have a feeling those two are going to become insufferable soon. She wants to go flying already and he wants to take her flying, and you say they can't…oh sweet spines and eggs, this is going to be a long five years!"

"Ah, it'll pass quick enough," Astrid said wistfully, "besides, it's not like Toothless can't fly. He's still got that black tailfin. He just doesn't let anyone sit on his back now. That saddle of his hasn't been used since…well, since Hiccup died."

"And Solveig was going to build him a new one," Stormfly laughed, "I think we all know which side of the family that trait came from! She's got her mother's eyes and strength, though."

Fishlegs was fidgeting. "As pleasant as it is to hear about these things, Heather's going to be expecting me home at any moment, so—"

"Right. I just wanted to ask you if you would mind leaving your book here for a while. I'd like to share some of it with Solveig."

"Are you sure? A lot of it's not exactly suitable for children, and the fact that it happened to her own father might really upset her."

"She'll learn the truth sooner or later. And while I certainly won't tell her anything about Adoncia or the bullying! But there are some happy moments she'd love to hear about, right? Like when he and Toothless first became friends, or when mommy visited daddy at his Sanctuary. And I want to make sure you wrote those moments correctly!" she added with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Actually, now that I think about it, I'm going to read the entire thing!"

Fishlegs fidgeted even more. His masterwork would now be judged by his Chief, who just so happened to be the widow of his subject matter. Suddenly he began to fret over the formation of every sentence and paragraph he could remember. This fretting was almost certain to keep him up all night!

Astrid went on. "I also need you to take a letter for me."

He groaned. "More writing?"

"It's your own fault for being better with letters than I am! Now, I want you to inform the Christian High Priest—"

"You mean the Pope."

"I can call him what I like. He doesn't call me Chief of Berk because I'm a woman. But use his proper title in the letter, of course."

"'To his Holiness Pope Gregory VII,'" Fishlegs muttered as he wrote.

"Anyway, tell him we accept the trade offers and reassure him that we will not allow dragons to be used by other monarchs against him, and we will not raid any Christian settlements if we are left alone as well. You know how to frame it. Bring it to me when you're finished."

"When I'm—and just where are you going?" he demanded. "Chief?"

"To take Solveig to her training class and make my rounds of course."

Toothless spent much of his time these days with Solveig, but when she went to training that afternoon he left her and went to the Nest, a building recently erected on Berk adjoining the Dragon Stables. It had been built specifically as a safe place for dragons to lay their eggs in. He had a personal reason for visiting now: he wanted to check on Radamar.

She was lying on a pile of hay on one of the lofts, taping her tail impatiently against a wooden beam. Though she would not move, Toothless knew there were two large eggs underneath her.

He moved in front of her, for Radamar was incapable of turning her head. Her neck was unlikely to ever fully heal from Agaruba's attack, so Gobber had built a metal neck brace for her to wear. It had irritated her immensely at first, and she had to hold her head in the same position nearly all the time, but she was alive, and she knew very well that was something to be thankful for. Though her neck could not move, her mouth could and she smiled at her mate. Toothless had taught her that.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I miss the Yellow Stone on my wings," she replied, "I'd love to get out of this straw and breathe fresh air again, and I don't feel very comfortable sleeping here," Normally Radamar slept with him in the Haddock house, but ever since she had become pregnant she had stayed in the Nest. "But duty comes first, of course,"

"I should say so! Those are our hatchlings you're taking care of!" He sat down in front of her. "How much longer do you think it'll be?"

"Another few days, I think. You know, Toothless, I think the one on the right smells like it'll be a Vav. Shall we name him 'Hiccup'?"

Toothless shook his head at once. He looked so upset that Radamar at once said "I'm sorry, Toothless, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's all right, it's just…well, he never liked his name. He told me that if he had his way nobody would ever be named 'Hiccup' again. Much as I'd love to name someone after him in his honor, I think it would be dishonorable to give someone the name he despised. And I'd rather my son was given his own name, not someone else's, not even someone as amazing and special as Hiccup."

Radamar nodded and laughed. "And we certainly won't name either of them after my Hoah!"

Toothless snorted. Menomem had not been seen by either of them ever since that last night, and as far as they knew she still was mute.

"And if any hatchling is a male, don't name him 'Salistus'!" A Scuttleclaw from a nearby loft called. The other dragons agreed vigorously and shuddered.

"Ugh! Don't even think about it! No offense, Radamar—we like you a lot, but your brother was a real pain!"

"I once asked him to help tow some logs and he said it was not fit for an Alepha," a Gronkle growled. "Only lesser dragons are fit for menial work, he said."

"You'd think losing his rank would have made him humbler, but no!"

"He was well on his way to replacing Old Mildew—curse that man!—before he left," Evictus the Timberjack agreed as he passed by. There was more shuddering and others joined in cursing Mildew's name. It had become the fashion on Berk, once it was made known that Mildew had set Viggo free, making him largely responsible for the Sacking of Berk and all that had happened because of it. Not even Hiccup in his unpopular childhood had been hated and reviled as much as Mildew was now. And Salistus, who had retained his stuck up and pampered personality even after losing his rank, had almost become just as despised, except he had left four years ago after a final heated arguments with Toothless. Where he was now and what he was doing nobody knew, and only Radamar ever grieved for him.

There were five other Night Furies on Berk at the moment. Sclepus had left nearly four years before and only returned maybe once a year. He was seeking out the long cold trail of his brother. The only lead he had was to find where Toothless had hatched, not an easy task as Toothless himself barely remembered that place. Everyone knew it was almost certainly a hopeless search, and Sclepus knew most of all, but he had decided it worth the effort.

Toothless thought of the eggs beneath Radamar. Two large black eggs with deep purple splotches on them. And inside of them were two unborn Night Furies. A little more hope for his species.

Astrid had more to think about than two eggs. She was making her rounds, like Chief Stoick used to do. She passed Tuffnut Thorsten on the way. He nodded respectfully and went off without a word, Chicken waddling behind him.

"He hardly ever talks these days," she said sadly to herself.

At the docks she paused and watched some sailors using a crane to drop cargo onto their ship. It was the very crane Hiccup had designed and they had used the design for two more such cranes to increase their productivity. Astrid had decided that Berk's future now depended heavily on trade, and that meant they needed the means for more cargo to be shipped to and from the island.

People passed by her, nodding or giving a casual greeting as they went about their work. It perplexed her a little. The Pope had been reluctant to acknowledge her as the real Chief of Berk because she was a woman and several nearby countries thought the same. As far as they were concerned she was just a regent looking after a throne until a male heir could claim it. Yet on Berk itself nobody objected to the idea of a woman running the island.

She had shared this with Camicazi the last time they had spoken, and Camicazi had laughed it off. "We Bog Burglars get that all the time! Those fools don't know what they're talking about! I'll bet a woman could rule France or Norway as well as any man, and maybe better!"

She was shaken from her thoughts by the sudden arrival of her daughter. Solveig came rushing over and, with a cheer, leapt at her mother like a small wolf. Astrid instinctively caught the little rogue in midair.

"You're going to have to try harder to catch me by surprise, Solveig!"

"I get you one day, mommy!" the girl grinned.

Toothless joined them, and Astrid set Solveig down on his back, and they walked around the village together. Everybody loved to see the Haddocks walking around together. It was a sweet sight that had been largely absent during the previous generation.

"So what did you learn about today?" Toothless asked. Solveig could understand Dragonese, though speaking it was still a challenge for her.

"We ffffrowing axes! Noseblister missed target and nearly killed Tetry!"

"And how did you do?" Astrid asked. "Did you hit the bull's-eye at all?"

She shook her head glumly. "No."

Astrid gestured to her ear. She was slightly deaf now. "What was that?"

"No!" Solveig pouted.

"No? Well we'll just see about that. I'm going to have to teach you myself!" Astrid said playfully, making a mental note to give Solveig some lessons later that week.

"Yes, yes! Teacher said you good fffrower!"

"'A good thrower,'" Astrid corrected. She made Solveig repeat her words a few times. "And yes, I am very good with an axe. I could throw this so it passed an inch in front of your father's nose!" She held up her trusty old axe to reinforce her message.

"And the trees still bear the scars you've inflicted," Stormfly chuckled.

Solveig laughed and Astrid ruffled her hair. Then Solveig frowned. Gustav Larsen was approaching. She did not really like the man. He was often bothering her mother and Solveig did not approve of anyone who did that.

"Good afternoon, O Wise and Beautiful Chief," he said with an exaggerated bow, "Nice day, yes?"

"Very nice," Astrid replied, "What's that in your hand?"

"Oh, another letter that came to me by mistake—"

"That seems to be happening quite a bit these days," Astrid said suspiciously. He had likely gotten this letter 'by mistake' on purpose so he had an excuse to approach her.

He handed the letter to her, "Sorry, but I took the liberty of reading it—the Chief of the Puke-Heads has—"

"A serious need to rename his tribe?" Toothless suggested. Solveig and Stormfly howled with laughter.

"—an offer of marriage for you and his son. He assures you such a match would produce plenty of wealth, status, children, and—"

Astrid snorted. "Wealth and status from a tribe that has only 30 people, 10 dragons, and six cows in it? Hah! They're just trying to get a piece of our success. And I can't have more children."

"Yes, I—I know that, but he doesn't,"

"Oh yes he does. Nothing about a Chief stays secret for long in these parts, especially where their heir is concerned." Hiccup's death, the stress of rebuilding Berk, and pregnancy had taken a toll on Astrid and had nearly caused a miscarriage. Some said it was only by the intervention of the Gods that Solveig was born at all, but even if it was it had still been a very painful and nearly fatal experience for Astrid. The healers agreed another pregnancy would almost certainly kill her and strongly advised against having any more children. This hardly bothered Astrid, as she had no desire to have children by somebody besides Hiccup. Yet that did not stop the marriage offers from time to time. "Well, thank you, Gustav. I shall certainly give it all the consideration it is due."

"I would advise against it, myself." he hinted.

"You must've read my mind," she replied, handing the letter to Stormfly, who lit the parchment on fire.

"On the other hand, Solveig would be better off with a father—"

"It depends on who the father is," Astrid retorted, "and that's a concern for her family to take care of."

Gustav got the implication and went home.

"I sometimes wonder why he still tries," Stormfly commented.

"He thinks if Hiccup could succeed in wedding Astrid, he can too," Toothless snorted.

"Even after all this time?"

The Night Fury shrugged. "It's his life he's wasting, not mine,"

In the rebuilt and refurbished Mead Hall, Snotlout took a swig from his mug of ale. He had not had a drop of water since he had recovered from cholera. He poured some into Hookfang's mouth, and Hookfang spat out a particularly large jet of flames. Several people ducked.

"Ten meters! That's your best one yet!"

"Give me time, I can do better!"

Heather stormed over. The tips of her hair were singed. Snotlout panicked. "It's Hookfang's fault! He breathed the fire, not me!"

She grabbed him by the collar. "And who gave him the ale and encouraged him?"

"Hookfang! Protect me! Protect your Rider!"

"Is that going to require getting up?" the Nightmare yawned.

The crowd laughed and cheered for a fight. Heather slapped Snotlout's face a few times, dropped him on the floor, and made to leave. But before Snotlout could gloat she uttered a cry and Windshear flung spines at him, pinning him to the floor.

"Let's see you get out of that one!" Heather laughed as Snotlout wailed. She stepped outside and took a deep breath. As she exhaled she spotted Valka Haddock, who had returned from Greenland only a few days ago, and went to greet her.

"How's the nest going?"

"It's getting larger." Valka replied, "A lot of them are eager to be with the Alpha. And with all the fights going on throughout Europe a lot of dragons are seeking new homes."

Heather shook her head. "All we ever seem to hear about Europe is fighting. If they're not fighting for another person's territory they're fighting with the Pope or they're fighting with themselves."

"And they only want dragons as weapons, like Bludvist," Valka added in disgust. "Thankfully the Bewilderbeast this time has the power to prevent that. He only needs to summon a dragon and they'll come, and their captors will have to fight with the weapons they make. Those are lethal enough."

"Don't I know it?" Heather said, gesturing to her axe. "Of course, this hadn't shed blood for a long time. We've been pretty peaceful these past five years."

That peacefulness was not accidental. Rome, after learning what had transpired with Viggo Grimborn, at first maintained a tactful silence on the subject. The Berkians assumed they were simply avoiding the issue. Then out of the blue, less than two years after Hiccup's death, they learned that Pope Alexander II had died. His successor, Gregory VII, had his own agenda. He wanted Papal authority to be stronger, and was not interested in letting other rulers get their hands on dragons to use against him. Since Astrid did not want dragons used in that way either, she managed to obtain some concessions out of Gregory, using Fishlegs as a mediator (few places were willing to negotiate with a woman directly). Among other things, Denmark got her dragons back. The King of Denmark was a personal friend of Gregory and promised him his dragons would only ever fight in his favor. There had even been talk of converting to Christianity, but though some had expressed curiosity and interest, Astrid had refused.

After aimlessly wandering down to the docks, while waiting for Fishlegs to arrive, the two women and Cloudjumper sat down. The day was pleasant to behold, but chilly. The sky was half cloudy, half clear, but the sun felt feeble. A lot of people were out on their dragons. The air was full of them, yet never at any moment did it seem to be cluttered or overwhelming. The dragons flew slowly and gracefully enough to resemble great birds soaring over the water. As always, it was a majestic sight. Seeing them in this light this was enough to make anyone wonder who on earth would ever want to harm a dragon.

It seemed a happy place now, Berk. And given how much suffering it had felt throughout the centuries, it had certainly earned it. Everyone had a place to live, food to eat, money to spend (and for anyone who did not it was largely their own fault), family and friends all living less than a stone's throw away, and hope for the future. That was more than could be said a while ago.

Of course, this happiness had come at a price, and a steep one, even when only considering the aftermath of the Sacking. Heather had not personally been involved in the rescues, because Astrid had said she had done enough already, but she knew all about them. Large groups of dragons accompanied by a few Riders flew to the locations listed in Viggo's ledgers, and searching whatever ship came their way. In many cases they had flown so fast they intercepted a slave ship before it even reached its destination. Once they did, the attacks were simple and merciless to anyone who stood in their way. Heather remembered clearly the joy and relief everyone had felt when the first group returned. It had been short lived, but for a few wonderful minutes everybody cheered themselves hoarse and was happy.

Yet for all their efforts to track down everybody and save them from slavery, two of the ships and the poor souls on them had never been found. Their fates remained a mystery, and it was finally concluded that both ships had gone with all hands to the bottom of the sea. The sea never stayed safe for long even in the summer, and those ships had been sailing in mid-winter.

Suddenly she felt a clenching pain in her chest. She could not bring herself to think of this any longer and her gaze shifted to one group up in the air. It was a collection of older children learning to ride dragons. Fishlegs's Father was teaching a handful about Gronkles, using Meatlug for demonstrations. Judging by their expressions, for some this was their first time in the air, and they were clearly enjoying it. Heather smiled and hoped they did not have the same experience she had gone through on her first flight.

"It looks amazing, doesn't it?" She remarked, "Kids learning how to fly with Dragons. It cost him his life, but in the end Berk became what Hiccup wanted it to be."

"I never dared hope this would happen in my lifetime." Valka answered, "And to think it was my only child who brought it about. And yet…he would've been happy, yes, but I can't help but think he would have been unsatisfied. He would have set his sights elsewhere. He would have wanted everyone to live this way."

"His ambition would likely have overreached itself in that case." Cloudjumper commented.

"Maybe. Maybe it's a family curse to have ambitions that exceed what's actually possible."

"Well, he got Vikings to live with dragons peacefully. That's something," Heather said brightly. "Even Queen Mala has a dragon now!"

"When your tribe is among the most powerful in this Archipelago now, naturally you wield some influence," Cloudjumper remarked. "Still, at least the hunting is largely ended."

With the death of the Grimborns, Dragon Hunting had collapsed. Few had the nerve to hunt anymore and the greedy ones decided there were easier and safer ways to make profits. These days the only hunting that took place was when a stray dragon raided someone's crops so many times the community turned out to get rid of it, and nobody on Berk, human or dragon, could really object to that.

By the time Fishlegs turned up, which was a lot later than anyone had expected, it was time for dinner. To everyone's amusement except his, he tried to use his left hand to hold utensils because his right was too sore to hold anything.

"I'll never write again," he moaned.

"But you haven't finished the new Book of Dragons yet!" Heather laughed. He sighed with a depressed air of resignation.

Astrid was seated with her mother and Valka. Solveig was at another table with Toothless and her friends.

Tuffnut was sitting a table by himself, ignoring everyone else, when Snotlout joined him. "Hey pal, what's up?"

Tuffnut shrugged.

"Listen, I've got an idea: why don't we blow up the bathhouse tomorrow?"

Tuffnut thought a moment and shook his head. "No thanks,"

"C'mon, Tuff! Think of how terrific an explosion it will be!"

Tuffnut again shook his head. Snotlout looked at his friend seriously. "Tuff, it's been five years. Living miserably isn't going to bring her back."

"Who says I am?"

"You hardly talk, you hardly socialize, you never blow anything up or prank people—you're almost boring! Would Ruffnut want you to be like this?"

"She might."

"Well would you want Ruff to be like this if you had died and she had lived?"

"I might." Tuffnut replied, a slight smile on his face. He sighed. "Snot, your idea sounds like a lot of fun. But it just wouldn't be the same. I know explosions will never be as amazing as they were when Ruffnut was here, and I'd rather remember them as they were than see pathetic imitations of them."

Snotlout chewed his food sullenly. "So then what have you been doing this whole time?"

Tuffnut looked a bit embarrassed. "I'm writing a book—"

"You? A book?"

"Yeah. It's an account of every prank we ever pulled that I can remember. I thought, since my days as a Disciple of Loki have drawn to a close, I would prepare a list of accomplishments and instructions to bequeath to my successors!" For a moment Snotlout saw the old and overly dramatic Tuffnut before him. It made him smile, but then he remembered something.

"Wait a minute! That means people in the future are going to know about all the pranks you've pulled on me!"

Tuffnut laughed. It was a fine laugh for someone who was out of practice.

Snotlout was indignant but then he thought of something else and it made him grin smugly. "You better not show it to Astrid! She'll tear up any page that has you pulling pranks on Hiccup on it!"

Tuffnut's face fell. "Actually, I decided most of those ones aren't going to be included. They're nothing to be proud of. And it would be shameful to depict a fellow Disciple of Loki in such a manner."

Over at Astrid's table, unaware that Snotlout still intended to blow up the bathhouse, Astrid, Valka, and Greta were talking about dragons. Astrid thought it was high time Greta bonded with one, and Valka enthusiastically favored it, but Greta was as reluctant as ever.

As they talked they became aware of some noise from behind. Evidently Gustav Larsen had had too much to drink and was making a fool of himself. They let it be and ignored him. Then all of a sudden they heard Solveig cry out in fury, heard a loud cracking sound, and when they spun around they saw Gustav rolling around on the floor clutching his knee. Several kids cheered but others looked alarmed. Solveig herself was looking at Gustav, a furious expression on her face.

Astrid came over at once. "What happened?" she demanded.

"She's a monster! She tried to break my leg!" Gustav cried.

Astrid turned her stern gaze on her daughter. "Solveig?"

Toothless curled his tail protectively around the girl, "It was his own fault. I was about to do the same, and you would've too."

"What was his own fault?"

One of the village carpenters spoke up. "He was imitating Hiccup. You know how he'd hobble around when his fake leg wasn't attached?"

"Yes?"

"Well—err—that's what he was doing. And Solveig didn't like it."

"Clearly," Valka Haddock said dryly.

"Yeah, I guess she thought he was insulting him."

"And she tried to break my leg!" Gustav wailed from the floor.

"Actually, she hit him in the knee. Knocked him clean over."

Astrid looked down at her daughter. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I do it again. I do it to anyone making fun of Daddy!"

Astrid picked her up. "You and I are going to have a little talk. Oh, and Gustav? Just a friendly bit of advice: stop making fun of my husband, especially when his own daughter is present."

"Yeah, no more mean stuff 'bout daddy!" Solveig interjected. Astrid told her to be quiet.

"He's drunk, Chief," someone pointed out.

"And that's why I gave him friendly advice and not a firm reminder." Astrid growled.

Snotlout, who since his talk with Tuffnut had consumed a fair share of drink as well, slurred out, "Aw, c'mon, Astrid, he's had too much wine. I've had too much wine too. And don't we all like to wine about what ales us?" He burst into laughter as if he had said something funny and clever.

Astrid turned away so Solveig could not see him. "Hookfang, Fanghook, take your riders home and keep them there until they're sober. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I've got to sort a few things out with my daughter."

With that she carried Solveig outside. Toothless wanted to go with them but Astrid flatly told him to go spend some time with Radamar.

As soon as they were out of earshot Astrid ruffled Solveig's hair. "Five years old and already clobbering people? You're a Hofferson all right! And Gustav should've known better than to mock Hiccup when his own daughter was nearby! Well maybe this time he'll have learned his lesson."

"No punishes?" Solveig said in surprise.

"Oh I'll find something for you to do tomorrow. But Toothless was right: I would've done the same to Gustav. I have done the same, many times, to other people. It's a tough world, Solveig, and we girls have to be able to look after ourselves. Few respect us in these parts if we can't hold our own against them."

"Would Daddy be pleased?" Solveig asked eagerly.

"I imagine he'd look angry and be secretly flattered. All the same, Solveig, no more punching people or starting fights without my permission, all right?"

"Mmm,"

She carried her daughter up to Solveig's room, the room that had once been Hiccup's. Clearing the room of items which were no longer needed to make way for an infant's needs had been a very hard experience. Some friends had offered to help, and when Snotlout had suggested they use some of Hiccup's journals to light a fire (he was cold) Astrid had become so grief-stricken she nearly threw him off the landing platform.

Stormfly joined them and announced Gustav and Snotlout were fast asleep in their rooms now, snoring loud enough to annoy a Thunderdrum. They sat down on the bed and Astrid picked a sheet of parchment. First she had her daughter try and read a paragraph out loud.

"Mommy, why do I?" Solveig asked after a few tries. Her reading was decent, though large and unfamiliar words gave her trouble (and there were plenty of those), but she was still pronouncing 'th' like 'f' and Astrid had been constantly correcting her.

"I know it's hard, but you're already better at reading than I was at your age."

"Really?"

"Solveig, only a handful of people in these parts know how to read. Of that handful only a smaller handful are women. So you're already part of a distinguished group."

Solveig looked at her blankly. Astrid mentally slapped herself. Sometimes she forgot she was speaking to a five year old. "I mean you're really special and you're doing really great, sweetie! Now we just need to get you to speak properly. Say 'math."

"Maff."

"No—pretend you're a Terrible Terror and you're hissing at me."

She grinned and curled up. "Mattttth! Mattttth! Hssss!"

Well, it was progress, Astrid thought.

Suddenly Solveig grew bored with the joke and examined the parchment. "What's ttttthis anyway?"

"This is part of what Uncle Fishlegs has written about your father."

Solveig looked delighted. "Daddy's here?"

"No, sweetie, he's…well, this is about his life. Shall we read a little?" They readjusted themselves to be more comfortable.

Astrid read out loud, "'Toothless recalls their time in India fondly, saying that it was here that Hiccup at last began to recover from the events in Spain and got used to his metal leg. This was the first time they'd been in a land where Dragons lived with humans peacefully, and Hiccup's mind got busy. Here he first developed his flight suit and his fire sword, and the ideas for Berk's dragon racing can be traced back to the races Hiccup saw and took part there. While according to Toothless the decision to return to Viking waters to bring peace did not occur until they had been to China, it was in India that Hiccup began for the first time to consider creating a sanctuary for dragons, as well as making a permanent home for him and Toothless. During the difficult years on Berk he had long dreamed of building a new home for himself, someplace where life could be peaceful and happy, and now he saw the chance of turning that dream into reality. The only question was where to locate this new home?'"

Astrid tried to simplify some of this for Solveig's sake, but even with this help a lot of this went over the girl's head and had it not have been about her father she would have stopped trying to understand it. So they skipped a little.

"'To earn money for food and shelter, Hiccup would often offer his services at blacksmith stalls. This also afforded him an opportunity to learn the local dialects first hand, though communication at times caused problems. Hiccup several times unwittingly insulted people, once even calling a Maharajah 'an old frog', and on one occasion insulted a cow, unaware that cows are considered sacred in India. Toothless clearly recalled that occasion, for they had been forced to flee for their lives, not for the first or last time.'"

The humans laughed after reading this. "Daddy upset a cow!"

"Ha! He never told me about that one!" Astrid wiped away tears, "he was a lot more respectful to the locals when we were in journeying to Greenland—clearly he'd learned his lesson!"

"Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"Why can't Daddy be here now?"

Astrid sighed heavily. "He's dead, Solveig."

"So? When will he be back?"

"He's not coming back."

"Why not? Did you two fight?"

Astrid sent Stormfly to fetch something. "No, Solveig, we didn't fight. I loved your father. I loved him more than I ever got to tell him. And I know he never loved any woman but me."

"Then why?"

Stormfly returned with a rock in her mouth. She set it down on the floor and Astrid said, "Solveig, hit your head on this."

Solveig looked at the rock. "But won't it hurt?"

Astrid smiled slightly. She never liked to think ill of Stoick the Vast, but it seemed her daughter had more sense in her head than he had when he was a boy. "Yes it probably will. Yet some have hit their heads on rocks and cracked them opened. That shows you what a Viking can accomplish. We can conquer mountains, cross seas, settle wild forests, and thanks to your father we can soar through the air. But some have hit their heads and the rocks don't react at all. That shows you that, no matter how hard we try, some things can't be conquered. Death comes for all of us, and there's nothing we can do about it. Your father played with Death many times, and at last Death won. Death always wins in the end." She gently embraced her daughter. "Nobody wanted it to be like this, Solveig, Daddy least of all. But we can't bring him back no matter how hard we might wish it. All we can do is keep going."

Solveig nodded numbly. Astrid's grip on her tightened. "But I know this much, Solveig: for the few hours he knew about you, he loved you, and if he was still here, he would be as proud of you as I am."

They gradually moved onto more cheerful topics that involved Hiccup. Solveig was delighted to hear about one time where Old Mildew, the spectral ogre of every family on Berk, had been rude to Mommy, so the Dragon Riders acquired some bright green and yellow paint and had painted his house in the middle of the night.

"It was Hiccup's idea," Astrid chuckled. "He thought it was more sophisticated and less punishable than Tuffnut's idea to blow the house up."

Solveig had a hard time believing that Gloomy Tuffnut Thorsten, as he was often called by the Berkian children, had once been the most rambunctious and chaos-causing men on Berk. When she expressed this disbelief, Astrid nodded sadly.

"You never knew him before his sister died. In those days, if you wanted to prank someone or have something destroyed, you went to the Twins. The Disciples of Loki. They included Hiccup in that group too on occasion." But she did not tell her daughter everything the Twins had ever done. She did not want Solveig or anyone else getting any ideas!

Gradually Solveig began to yawn. Astrid gently laid her in her bed and, after petting Stormfly one final time, went to her own bed. At least while asleep they could imagine they were with Hiccup on some crazy adventure.

Toothless was still wide awake. He was feeling a flurry of emotions at the prospect of becoming a sire at long last. Thrilled as any sire-to-be would be at imminent parenthood, terrified that he would not make a good sire, and downcast that Hiccup would not be there to see it. Not a day went by where he did not think of Hiccup, and even after five years it still felt wonderful and horribly painful.

He drew closer to the comfortingly warm body of his mate and reflected, if only to distract himself from the prospect of raising his own hatchlings.

The seasons passed through Berk as they always had, yet the village had changed, to the point where the growing youngsters did not even think of the old days at all and the older ones wondered if those days had been just a dream. It felt that way to him sometimes. He had spent over ten years with that boy, watching him change from a little runt to a strong young man, watching him master his fears and insecurities, helping him through nearly every difficult moment, and teaching him what he could about dragons. He had watched the boy who had been as frightened as he was turn into the Dragon King, and he had been there to help him nearly every step of the way. He had seen the boy return to his own tribe and make peace with them and change them in ways that a few years prior had seemed laughable and impossible. Never had Toothless known a better friend and never could he expect to know another, nor did he. And yet, in the course of a single night he had found his brother again and lost him forever.

And even after Hiccup's death, Berk was still living with dragons. Would they continue to? Almost certainly. Would the rest of the world? It was hard to say. It was likely difficult times still lay ahead for humans and dragons but, he glanced at the eggs that held his unborn hatchlings, there was always hope for a better future. Maybe. Sometimes things seemed beyond hope or any chance of getting better, as Hiccup had often thought in his darker moments. Sometimes it seemed that they were doomed to pain and difficulty for the rest of their days. Yet when they had had those thoughts, a pleasant flight had always gotten them to feel some optimism.

Where was Hiccup? Where was Stoick? Where were Grimm and Olaf Hofferson, Spitelout Jorgenson and his own parents? Where was Ruffnut Thorsten? Where were Stormfly's mate and Hatchlings? Where was the Sanctuary that had once been a great nest for Dragons? Where was the Island of Berk that Toothless remembered it to be? They were all gone, gone like the leaves that fall on a day in russet autumn. Nothing but names, deeds, and abstract and changing and fading memories remained of them.

Yet they were not entirely gone, were they? As long as there were people and dragons to think about them, as he thought about his best friend and brother, they were not wholly lost forever.

The End