Chapter Six: Broken Spirits

If Stoick the Vast (oh hear his name and tremble, ugh ugh) chief to the Hairy Hooligan tribe, had thought that nothing could ruin this day, then he clearly wasn't prepared for a abandoned bed and a lost son.

Of course no thought of Hiccup betraying him and his village crossed his mind.

The big Viking just thought that the boy would be training for his big event.

What else could possibly explain his sons' mysterious absence?

But when the sun climbed higher and higher and his son was nowhere to be seen, Stoicks smile transformed slowly into a frown.

He's just taking his time, he thought as he passed the decorated streets and houses.

Probably forgot what time it already is! He knew he'd been like that when he'd been the boys' age.

Lost in the beauty of the battle.

Then again, this was Hiccup he was thinking about. If his son hadn't suffered a brainwash then there had to be more to his absence than bloodlust.

But it wasn't until Bucket and Mulch came up to him and asked him, when the feast would start that Stoick got up and announced that he would go and look for his son.

All the teens, except the Hofferson girl, offered to accompany him.

He thanked them and together with his brother and Gobber they marched into the forest looking for the young heir.

Stoick had expected that his son would be somewhere in the forest near the village, killing tress with his ax and a new-found strength that nobody knew where it came from accepted it nonetheless.

But nothing like that.

The forest was a vacant as ever.

"Okay, we separate. We meet here in one hour again. If he isn't found until then, we send out a bigger search party."

They nodded and divided into pairs.

Gobber and his brother Spitlout, Snotlouts father, walked with Stoick.

.

Nothing but the sound of birds and once in a while something bigger reached their ears.

With the time passing by, Stoick got more and more frustrated.

Who would have thought that someone like Hiccup; clumsy, uncoordinated and…well Hiccup-like, could vanish into thin air?

He tried to ignore glances, his brother and best friend exchanged.

.

The hour was nearly over when they were near Raven Point.

Stoick felt reminded of that embarrassing night weeks ago when his son had claimed to have shot down a Night Fury around these parts during a raid. He shook the thoughts from his head. He had to concentrate.

He wanted to cut his way through some thick bushes when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was Spitlout.

"Stoick, let's head back. Maybe the kids found him or he's back in the village. But there is no sense in continuing the search."

But Stoick had an unpleasant feeling in his belly. He didn't know what it was but there was a soft tingling in his neck. "No. I don't know but…I think we are close to something…I…I can feel it."

The other men sighed but agreed. Stoick was stubborn and hey both knew it had no use to convince him otherwise.

Together they cut their way through the bushes when Stoick suddenly stopped abruptly. Gobber cursed unceremoniously and raised his hook.

"Dang it Stoick, warn us!" the old blacksmith cried.

But Stoick was frozen.

The others peered over his shoulder.

Underneath them was a cove, hidden by its location, boulders, trees and the other thick vegetation.

It was without a doubt a wonderful place.

The grass was green and in the middle was a wide pond with fish.

Little waterfalls fed the pond and big oak- trees ringed one side. The stone was white and pure and there was a small opening that led inside.

But that was not what made the three Vikings stop dead in their tracks.

The cove wasn't untouched.

Actually there were a lot of signs of human activity but not just human.

From where they stood, they could see footprints in the soft ground around the pond, the leftovers of small campfires and a graving in the ground that looked like meaningless lines and arches and bows.

But on the other had there were scratch marks on the rocks and trees, burned ground and footprints of a giant beast as well as body prints.

"Let's check this out." Gobber said, having not a good feeling in his guts.

The brothers nodded.

They entered the cove through the small entrance and struggled to fit their bellies through the slender walls.

They looked around.

"Well whatever that was, it had big ugly claws." Gobber said and held his hand next to one of the scratching marks. His hand looked ridiculously small compared to the scratch.

Spitlout kneeled down next to one of the footprints. "Well, I don't like to say this but I only know one person with feet that small."

Stoick paled.

"There is no proof Hiccup was here." Gobber tried to comfort him.

"Ah, well, I don't think so." Spitlout suddenly said and picked something up from underneath a bush.

It was a helmet. Stoick paled again, looking like a bed sheet.

It was Hiccups helmet. The helmet made from Valhallaramas breastplate.

With shaking hands he took the helmet. He tried to ignore his brothers pitying look and hold the helmet tight.

"Maybe he survived. I mean…there's no blood….and…he's best a dragon training." Gobber tried to lift their spirits.

"He wouldn't leave it behind. Never." Stoick said in a silent voice. "He's gone." He added.

Gobber opened the mouth but closed it again.

Even he couldn't find any more positive thoughts on the boys' whereabouts.

Spitlout examined the footprints and the body prints.

"They don't look familiar. It wasn't a Monstrous Nightmare and no Zippelback. The talons don match. Maybe a Timberjack. But then again the size doesn't fit. Changewing…no doesn't fit too. For a Scouldron we are too far inland. And the body prints…compared to other dragons it's rather small. What kind of dragon was this?"

"What if it wasn't a dragon?" asked Stoick weakly. Spitlout shook his head. "Look at the scorch marks Stoick. They have a yellow frame. Sulfur. Only dragon flames have sulfur in them."

Gobber laid a hand on Stoicks shoulder.

"I'm sorry my friend. But I swear, we gonna find that beast."

Stoick looked at him. "I don't care about the beast. I want proof that Hiccups dead. I want his body. I want to give him a proper funeral; I want to send him off to Valhalla if he's dead!"

With that the Viking chief turned around an exit the cove.

He had to be alone.

Live was unfair. First it took away Valhallarama and now Hiccup. Both died because of these devil-like creatures.

Dragons.

And that now, where he thought that Hiccup and him might get along, after such long time of silence and disagreeing.

He clenched his fists hard. Why were the gods so cruel? What had he ever done wrong?

With broken spirits, Stoick walked back to the village, not knowing what to do next.