Part Seven
"Something has been burrowing under water," Fishlegs continued to explain. It was not common that an entire island simply started to sink. "The whole thing is unstable. Gothi says we may only have the rest of the year."
Hiccup nodded slowly and pulled, from the shadows beside him, Fishlegs' satchel. "So then this – " he pulled the map from the bag, "- is to find a new island."
Again, Fishlegs nodded as he reached over and took the map from Hiccup, laying it out on the table. The lamp beside the dragon trainer illuminated the hand drawn land masses, the shadows seeming to bring them to life. "The Chief's sent several of us to scout out islands in all directions rather than just to board up the whole tribe again and hope for the best." He traced the line of Islands on his map and sighed. "It's been really slow though…trying to find a new island that is big enough to support everyone, that isn't already inhabited by some other tribe or…of course – wild dragons.
Hiccup was silent for a moment, staring over Fishlegs work he had done good work so far. Hiccup recognized some of the islands as ones from his own adventures and knew their dangers. Judging from the map, Fishlegs had managed to get quite far from the temporary island that the Hooligans now called home and Hiccup frowned slightly a shadow passing over his eyes. "How did you get here?"
Fishlegs, who had distracted himself with Hiccup's inventions during the boy silence, turned back to the dragon rider, partially confused by the question. "I took a boat," was his matter-of-fact answer.
Now, Hiccup looked up at Fishlegs and the blonde saw that the dark seeds of mistrust had not fully left his companion.
Inching back over to the map, Fishlegs tapped a small, semi-empty section of water. "We take one of the main ships out to about here then each of us take a smaller boat and examine the islands in that area."
"Each of us?"
"Well, yeah me, Astrid, Gustav, and a few of the other villagers."
Hiccup simply nodded. For a moment, a small part of his chest fluttered at her name and he felt like that young boy again trying desperately to impress her. Then his chest clenched as his eyes recalled her fearful, angry, hurt expression and he shut it out. What teeny chance he may have hoped to have then was gone now. He was a pariah amongst his own kin.
Hiccup forced his attention back to Fishlegs, realizing that he had once again started to speak. His thick fingers ran across the crude map and he babbled on about the interesting facets of islands he had visited. "..and this one had a really rare flower that bloomed only at night and released a special pollen potent enough to knock out a full grown Viking for a whole day! And over here - "
"That's great Fishlegs."
"Yeah and - "
"How long have you guys been looking?"
"A few months. Maybe half a year?" Again he drew his finger across the map, hovering just at the far left edge. "We ventured west at first but there was too much ocean…so we started going further south - " he traced the path and again hovered near the edge of the map. There was only a small space left empty on the scroll for what remained on the other side of Hiccup's Island.
"It's been a bit better. I have a theory that all of these small islands are broken off from a bigger island and…" his voiced faded to a drone in Hiccup's ears as he focused intently on the scroll before him, brows furrowed. Suddenly, he stood and crossed the short distance to his work table.
"…the plant life…and…" Fishlegs trailed off and watched, rather forgotten it seemed, as Hiccup rustled through some papers and journals comparing whatever he was looking at to the map Fishlegs had drawn.
At the fireplace, Toothless crooned gently and his rider absentmindedly scratched at the dragon's outstretched head. Toothless allowed the distracted pampering though he rolled his eyes.
"I can't believe you trained him..."
"Hmm?"
Fishlegs gestured, to the Night Fury and Toothless turned one green eye to watch the Hooligan. Despite the soft purring in his throat, his pupils were sharp and alert.
"I didn't train him..." Hiccup said slowly, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. He extended his hand, much like back then, and Toothless gently placed his nose against the boy's pink hand. "I trusted him."
"Whoa..." Fishlegs' eyes were saucers as he watched them. Everything he knew about dragons was being crushed under the weight of what Hiccup shared with his night fury. He was impressed...and very confused. Was it just this one dragon? Was it just Hiccup?
He found himself scrambling to his feet and closing the distance between himself and the rider before he even realized it. Eagerly, he extended his hand toward Toothless, a good arm's length still separating him from the dragon.
"Fishlegs..." There was a mild warning in Hiccup's voice but Fishlegs could also hear how it wavered under curiosity.
Toothless was not so curious. Like a bow string, the dragon snapped, whipping his head toward Fishlegs', baring his sharp teeth and growling from the depths of his chest. Fishlegs hastily withdrew his hand though that did not stop the glare Toothless laid on him.
"You can't just go up to them like that." Hiccup scolded as he returned to the boy with several maps. "You have to show them, first, that they can trust you."
"How?"
Hiccup chuckled. "Feeding them works."
Fishlegs eyed the small pile of fish bones at Toothless' head and could even see the dragon's belly swell under his dinner. "Oh…"
Silence fell back over the hut, thick as winter wool. Fishlegs felt its weight and heavily returned to his seat. After a while, Hiccup finally rejoined him, holding scrolls of his own that he smoothed out over the table. An extensive, detailed, and large map stared back at them vibrant hues. Fishlegs was sure his mouth hung open but he was too in awe to care.
"This one." Hiccup was pointing to a large island to the east of the map.
"What about it?"
"A herd of whispering deaths live here…I haven't been back recently but - " he looked back to Fishlegs' map, which the blonde felt embarrassed to have next to Hiccup's masterpiece, and traced the line of small islands; " - they had laid their eggs last time I was there…might have been too many in one spot - "
" – and they could have burrowed the island apart!" Fishlegs finished excitedly.
"Yeah…" Hiccup bit his lip as he concentrated on the map, tracing his finger along the route the broken land created. "It doesn't work…"
"What?"
Sighing, Hiccup leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "I thought maybe…the baby Whispering Deaths would have been the reason…but even if they followed what broke off the water would have pushed them further north…"
Fishlegs just stared at the map for a moment before realizing what Hiccup was talking about. "Oh! New Berk!"
Hiccup nodded as silence once again wafted into the room.
"It couldn't have been whispering death's anyway…" Fishlegs finally said. "Even though they don't like bright light and prefer to stay underground, they aren't great swimmers and would still have come up at some point in the past year if only to fly away." He sighed. "But we haven't seen hide nor tail of anything above ground." He trailed off with a sigh, eyes roving the map as though it was going to sprout an answer.
Hiccup sighed in disappointed agreement. "What else do you know about the way it's sinking?"
Fishlegs shrugged, pursing his lips as he was wont to do when in thought. "Not much really. We don't even know how long it has been under the island. Gothi was only able to give a broad estimate of anything – you know how she is.
Hiccup frowned as he remembered the strange mute old woman. Her one large eye often looking out at things he was sure were only in her imagination. She was good at what she did and as elder had great wisdom but …"How did she even find out about the burrowing?" he asked aloud
"Well about four months after we got settled in, the ground started to shake a lot here and there. We all just thought The Trickster was rebelling against Odin again and we were feeling it more since we weren't on our own land. When it started to happen more frequently and parts of the forest would just disappear underwater, the Chief went to Gothi and asked her what was happening. She said that it wasn't the gods but something they had forgotten to leash up. So she went around the island, banging her staff on the ground and listening for I-don't-know-what until she finally decided something was making tunnels and holes deep underground." Fishlegs leaned back, the same frustration over the precarious situation that he felt when he first heard the news, welling up inside of him.
"You know…"Hiccup started as he looked at the map again. "It could be natural. Aegir could be throwing one of his long parties, stirring up the seas, and the waves underwater may be entirely responsible."
Fishlegs did his best not to laugh at out loud. Hiccup was reaching far too long for his excuses. Everyone knew Aegir threw his biggest and parties after the harvest to reward Thor for his hard work in controlling the skies. There was no way the Island was a result of Aegir and his massive ales – the spring harvest had only just begun a few months ago!
"I'm pretty sure it's a dragon," Fishlegs finally answered. "Maybe a Thunderdrum…or sea - "
"Dragons can't be blamed for everything!"Hiccup snapped. The words poured out of his mouth before he could capture them but he was having trouble grasping regret.
Fishlegs stared, stunned into silence.
Hiccup stood, slamming his hands onto the table as he did so, "If you had stayed on Berk none of this would have happened!" The last words were shouted over his shoulder, the boy already moving to the door.
After a moment, Toothless lopped out after him, and Fishlegs heard again the familiar sound of the night fury racing into the air.
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The hut was not all that large, but alone again, with only Hiccup's angry last words echoing in the wood and stone, Fishlegs felt as though he was very, very small. The fire in the hearth had burned away to simmering coals and the sun had moved too far into the west to cast any more light through the small windows. The darkness threatened to swallow him up and he felt safe only in the small area he had first occupied. Pressed against the beam he had once been tied to, Fishlegs sat and waited.
A grey cloud hung above Hiccup's head, draining away the boy that Fishlegs once dreamed to call friend. The young man that lived here was withdrawn, sullen, only peeking from his harden exterior when near his beloved dragon. At first, Fishlegs realized, he had tried to look beyond that, simply believing that age had made Hiccup more of a man. But he knew the truth then and saw it more clearly now: Hiccup had lost hope. That was one thing that made him push through all the ridicule and spite on Berk, what made him believe he could train a dragon and what made him fly all the way back to Old Berk - he hoped that things could change. Except the reality had smacked him in the face and it screamed that it would not change.
Knowing all of this, however, did not make it any less painful.
He was not sure how long he sat contemplating the dragon rider, but all of a sudden, he made out the tell-tale fwump of a dragon landing and the worried croon of the night fury. He did not want to confront Hiccup, did not want to break the thin ice on which they already stood, so instead, with his heart thumping his throat, he laid on his side, curled around the beam and prayed the other would believe him asleep.
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"I have to go back," Fishlegs said rather matter-of-factly one morning a few days later. Despite talking to Hiccup, he did not meet the boy's eyes, instead focusing on the porridge in his bowl.
Hiccup stopped mid-bite but did not look up. He waited for the other to speak but only the soft sounds of the hut filled the room.
Fishlegs announcement were the most words spoken in the past few days. The days following Hiccup's outburst consisted of the two simply existing around each other. Fishlegs had spent the rest of the evening trying to understand where he had gone wrong. They shared meal time together but did not speak or even use the same table. Fishlegs ate against the beam he had been tied to, while Hiccup spent most of his energy facing Toothless. The dragon did not seem bothered by their silence and only crooned reassuringly every now and then to something Hiccup said or did. During the day, Fishlegs was left alone with the partial invitation to look over the maps - Hiccup seemed to make a great show of leaving them spread over the table before he left though he did not explicitly say whether or not it was for Fishlegs' purpose.
"What will you tell them?" Hiccup finally asked when it became clear Fishlegs was not going to continue. Hiccup heard the tense and partially dark undertone in his voice but he was too worried to care. Fishlegs was never good with keeping secrets, spilling like a tipped mug if frightened enough; even worse when he was excited. Hiccup did not know which would apply but he held little faith that he would remain secret for long if Fishlegs returned to New Berk.
Across the hut, Fishlegs stilled, the tension weaving around him like a bind. He hadn't thought about it. Of course he wanted to tell everyone everything. Hiccup was alive, thriving, and had a dragon on his side! He could come back, a hero and save everyone. But for all intents and purposes the heir to Berk was banished. Would anyone welcome him? Would Hiccup even want to go back to the very people who chased him away? Besides that, there was still the problem of their sinking island. Scaly Hiccup – as Hiccup had named the island in honor of him and Toothless – was a great place for a few people but not nearly enough to make a home for the entirety of Berk. Telling the others would not save them from their fate. No, in the end, he realized, there was nothing to tell. Not if he put their needs and lives before his own excitement.
Fishlegs turned his gaze to the dragon rider and was not surprised to see that Hiccup was watching him. He felt, more than saw, Toothless doing the same at his back.
"Nothing," he answered finally, strength in his answer that he did not know he could posses. It seemed to surprise Hiccup as well, for he watched with wide eyes. Confidently, Fishlegs explained his thoughts, rather proud of his reasoning.
At the table, the dragon rider felt air return easily to his lungs again and realized he had been all but holding his breath in fear of the answer. A weak smile, that only barely reached his eyes, wormed onto his face. "Good. Thanks."
"Yeah…"
For a moment the two sat in their uncomfortable silence.
"Hiccup - "
"Fishlegs - " they said at nearly the same time. Hiccup plowed on first. "I'm sorry."
Fishlegs blinked but remained quiet, watching as Hiccup worked through his words.
"I didn't mean to get so angry. It's just," he paused and ran a hand through his shaggy locks, gesturing as he spoke. "When I look at you all I see is Berk and when I see that all I can think about it how stubborn he was…how afraid everyone was. I could have changed everything…I could have fixed everything but all anyone can see if that dragons are bad and it blinds them so much he runs off to his death against a monster he can't even begin to understand!" He was practically shouting now, though the holstered emotion now trying to creep through choked his words.
"Hiccup…"
The rider shook his head. "Don't. This isn't anything you need to apologize for. I'm not blaming you…at least I don't mean to – "
"Hiccup – "
"I thought going there would make all of it make more sense but there is no sense to this…."
"Hiccup I understand." Fishlegs spat out before Hiccup could talk over him again. "I've had almost five years to get used to all of this…it's a lot to take in all at once. To be honest…I was a little worried when you took it all so well." He flashed a smile and he could almost see the words carry away a little of the burden to which Hiccup had been clinging.
The rider returned the smile, some of his old sense twinkling in the dark corners of his eyes. It would, Fishlegs thought, take some time before Hiccup was himself again, but at least the Night Fury tamer was on the right track.
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The trio stood at the edge of the tree line, the sand of the shore spreading out before them. Toothless warbled from just behind his rider. In the thinning foliage he was just visible, the black scales glittering in the setting sunlight. Fishlegs cast him a look.
"I'll come back…" he said slowly. To be honest, he was not sure if he was welcomed back. Hiccup had not thrown him out despite everything that happened over the past six days and had been a kind host but that was no invitation to arrive a second time. Still, he felt bad leaving the boy here.
Hiccup smiled lightly. "Sure." As an afterthought he added, "alone."
The blonde's eyes lit up and he practically vibrated with excitement. "Of course!"
Toothless warbled his disagreement and slunk into the thicker trees.
"Guess he still doesn't like me…" When Hiccup did not comment, Fishlegs turned his attention to the little rowboat, repacked with his bag and a sack of native berries and nuts, sighing. As the silence stretched a few more awkward minutes, he took it as a cue to shove off. Crossing the sands, Fishlegs started to push the boat back into the water. The waves were eager to take the rowboat on it's course and Fishlegs had to jog a bit in the shallows before he could jump inside. As he clambered awkwardly over the edge of the boat, he heard behind him, the distinct and now rare sound of Hiccup's jovial laughter.
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Fishlegs felt his stomach sink as the ship approached the island. More than half of the village had poured out to hear firsthand on their luck and he had nothing – and everything – to tell them. He could not bear to meet any of their questioning eyes and just settled for busying himself with the ropes and sails as the ship was pulled into dock.
Snotlout brushed through his crowd to be first to hear.
Fishlegs couldn't help but watch him now. After seeing Hiccup and how the boy had changed – matured and grown after all these years – he was more aware of the chief's changes as well.
Snotlout's build had not changed as much as Hiccup – the warrior son was an early bloomer, coming into his thick muscles and broad frame early in life. He had a few extra inches in height but still stood below most of the villagers of Berk. His face sported light edges of a beard and mustache that showed signs of one day growing in much like his fathers. Fishlegs was sure this was the boy's intention. But the biggest change in Snotlout was his character. He accepted and wore leadership well. Even now as he shouldered his way through the crowd, he did rudely push the villagers to the side with hefty boasts brought on by the weight of his family's reputation, but rather with solid forceful steps weighed now by his crown. Unlike Stoick, Snotlout did not do well to hide his pain as chief but rather wore it on his chest like a badge. Not for attention – he did not want pity or sympathy – but as though to show how he survived despite it.
Snotlout had grown, Fishlegs mused. And it was a good growth. Still, the boy's laugh was all but gone and the lines forming around his eyes were from frowns instead of smiles.
"Well?!" Snotlout boomed as soon as the boat was anchored. The crew quickly migrated back exposing the younger Vikings to their chief.
For a moment, silence, punctuated only by the youngsters awkward fidgeting and the splash of waves, filled the docks.
"Great." Snotlout rubbed the bridge of his nose, forced himself to exhale heavily and turned, stalking back toward the village. Behind him, only just arriving as he hobbled on his one good leg, Gobber took a moment to take in the scene, cringed and shrugged. "Best go on then," he said before turning and following after the Chief.
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The doors of the great hall slammed open as the inhabitants literally scrambled from within. As had been the case lately, giving Chief Snotlout the bad news that no new suitable island had been discovered was intense and nerve-wracking and the large meade hall, capable of fitting the entire village, felt no larger than a closet.
Astrid was very glad to feel the cool dusk air on her face.
"Went that good, huh?"
Astrid paused and turned to the gravely, nasal voice. Ruffnut leaned against the building watching the other female Viking with her signature smirk.
"Oh Yeah!" Astrid answered sarcastically, waving her arms to emphasize her words. "Because Snotlout just loves hearing things aren't going his way." The girl sighed. "This whole thing…I'm starting to wonder if there is anywhere safe to go…"
"We just need to get out there and bash some dragon heads in!" Ruff pushed away from the wall, pounding her own fists together. "That'll clear up a new island in no time!"
For a moment Astrid wasn't sure if Ruff was serious or not. Five years ago she would not have doubted that the girl truly saw that as a plausible solution. Back then she could solve anything by punching – or head butting – it with all her might. She and Tuff were an invincible team. But the half decade that aged them more than they wanted had changed a lot of things. So Astrid actually had to ask, "You're not serous right…"
Ruff chuckled and shook her head, long blonde locks bouncing as she did so.
"Good," Astrid answered with a laugh. "Because if Snotlout heard that he just might do it."
Ruff gave an awkward bark of a laugh – Astrid was never good at telling jokes – and jerked her head toward the main square. "Headin' home?"
At Astrid's confirmation the two began walking.
The 'square' was really more of a jumble of tightly built huts surrounding a hastily dug well. Unlike the homes they previously occupied, these were designed not for comfort but for survival. Once high-arching rooftops were now reduced to shingles of wood, patched with heavy wool where the elements had proven to be too much.
Much like their surroundings, the two female Vikings were a product of the swiftly changed Hooligans. Ruffnut had grown taller and more filled out though she still maintained a lanky figure due to spending most of her time hunched, arms swinging like an ape. But the dumbfounded lazy expression that once was a permanent face was forming into a signature Viking glare. Fire smoldered behind her eyes and her smirk dared a challenger to take her on.
Beside her, Astrid had grown much the same. Her once thin figure was supported now by trained lean muscles. She bore a golden tan from her time on the ships and the braid she used to restrain her blonde locks now reached to her waist. But her biggest change was the helmet that adorned her like a crown.
Unlike the standard metal helmets of the other vikings, hers was crafted of deep red dragon hide and scales, metal only present to hold it to the proper shape. Three horns rested on each side, two on either side reaching over her shoulders, while two more pointed toward the sky. These were long and thin, talons of her first prey.
As was expected after Hiccup's abandonment, Astrid was given the right to kill the large beast. The battle was everything she had expected it to be, terrifying, long, arduous...and thrilling. The feel of the beasts talons raking along her back as she dove beneath its hulking form, the blistering heat of its flames that not only were spit from its mouth but covered the flamed red hide, and most importantly, the feel of its scales and flesh giving way as she hacked into its long neck to deliver the finishing blow. Astrid shivered as she remembered the battle, and ran her fingers along the prize.
Many of the Hooligans had been surprised by her request for a helmet - the girl had never worn one in the whole time they knew her - but Astrid had her reasons. When her father died under the fire of the Skrill, his helmet fused to his burning skull, she made a promise to herself that when she killed her first dragon, she would wear its hide proudly to challenge any and all other dragons that dared attack her.
After her success slaying the Monstrous Nightmare, the creature's long horns and thick hide had been crafted into a helmet that she was now never without.
As they neared the hut that the Thurstons made home, Ruffnut slowed and seemed to be quite interested in a small pebble on the ground.
Astrid glanced to the house. "How is he?"
A more somber expression fell over the skinny viking's face. For the most part, Ruff could put on her lopsided grin, punch and laugh at anything and pretend things were okay. But with Astrid…the two had grown closer over the past years.
Tuffnut had been foolish. That thunderpede may have been small but they were massive dragons even for runts. And Tuff was too foolish to keep in mind its many extremities. The boy could barely manage to stay standing against a normal dragon (they would almost always catch him up with their tails). And Ruffnut was too…well she was foolish too. She didn't yell stop. She egged him on. She didn't say turn back…she threw rocks to get the things attention. She didn't run after him but hid and watched. The only thing she did right…was pulling what was left of Tuff away before the dragon could finish ripping him apart.
In the end, Tuff had lost one leg to the dragon, and most of the other to infection. His right arm ended at his elbow and the left was missing two fingers. In fact, the only wound that left no damage was the blow to his head from being tossed into a boulder. Gobber said it was a miracle he survived. Ruff was not sure she'd call what he was 'surviving'. Fear, shock, and humiliation had driven her brother to silence. Their mother spent most of her time caring for him and Ruff picked up the task at night. She joked with him at first and even resorted to their usual games. When Tuff flinched away from her playful smack she stopped.
In the three years since it happened, Tuff had only said a few words mainly in his sleep. They were almost always accompanied with tears.
"I think all this is getting to him," Ruff finally answered. "His night fits are coming more often and he refuses to wear the leg Gobber made for him."
Astrid sighed. She was not sure what to do. "Ruff…"
The other looked up, tired sadness in her eyes. "I think I'm losing my brother, Astrid."
Author's Note:
It's finally here guys! I am sorry again that it took so long and I do hope it was a read worth the wait.
Part Eight is already underway and I am doing all I can to make sure you guys are not waiting too long for the next installment.
As before, I want you guys to weigh in on what we see in the next chapter so I ask: What kind of dragons do you want to see? and What do you want to know most about Snotlout's change?
As always, please read and review. As much as I appreciate being favorited and racking up the followers, as a writer, I like to hear reviews. Not just good stuff, but honest thoughts and opinions. What did you like, what did you hate, what did I do well, what did I butcher - these things help me to improve as I work on my writing and are the treasure of any writer. Please don't take this as greed for reviews, a plea for attention, or a demand - this is simply a request from a writer and reader to fellow writers and readers.
As a side note, you read a bit about Aegir and Thor in this chapter. I did a quick search on Norse mythology and found that the God of Seas - Aegir - was given a large cauldron, in which he brews wine, by Thor as a gift. He also throws parties a lot. I also saw that Thor, in addition to being the God of Thunder and Lightning (and an awesome Avenger)is also generally a sky god and as such is crucial to the harvest. I made up the bit about a party FOR Thor but it seemed fitting and also created a timeline. I really enjoy that every now and then we get reminders that the Hooligans are a Viking Tribe and heavily believe in the Gods. I wanted to play on that as well.
Thanks for reading!