~Ouroboros~

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1st – 16. Lingering Thoughts

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The rest of the day passed by quickly for Hiccup, and wasn't even half as exciting as their morning training was. Not that he minded, no – he most definitely did not mind at all. It was nice to know that at least some parts of his life could pass without things going wrong, dragons trying to kill him, or whatever else the gods decided to throw at him.

No, he liked peaceful moments like this, thank you very much – what with them becoming rarer and rarer.

As he lay there in his bed once more, his half asleep mind turned unbidden to the Nightfury he had visited yesterday (was it really only yesterday? It seemed almost a lifetime ago now). He wondered for a moment what it would be like – to be able to fly almost from birth, and then to have it snatched away from you, knowing that there was no way for it to be returned. It would be like losing a leg…

Somehow though, that seemed wrong. Gobber was the living proof that even without a leg it was possible to walk, run, jump, and who knows what else. Hiccup doubted that the Nightfury would be able to just get up and start flying through sheer determination. Then again, even Gobber needed to fashion something for himself to replace his leg. Right, and the Nightfury can just make itself another tailfin. To Hiccup it seemed that there was more chance of it growing the tailfin back than that back than of that happening…

Why am I even thinking about it?

Turning around he tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. For all he knew, the dragon had managed to climb its way out and was long gone by now – likely hunting for something to eat in the woods… which would naturally make the woods the last place he wanted to be. Nearly getting killed five times in three days was more than enough for him, really.

Now if only he could stop thinking about how… vulnerable? Definitely not weak or in any way harmless – it had been when he watched its failed attempts at capturing some fish. Why did he care if it was hungry or not? Not that I care – but if hypothetically speaking I did, why would I?

In part he guessed it could be because of his involvement in its predicament, but somehow that did not seem completely right either – he had seen several dragons killed and later taken apart for hide, bones, and whatnot; and did not particularly care for them. Then again, it wasn't like he had personally killed them either…

Enough about that.

Hiccup forced his mind to switch topics and focus more on dragon training. He knew he was doing quite possibly the worst, what with his three close encounters with death – two of which happened during training this morning, the last of which he could swear caused him to see his life flashing before his eyes as he looked up after Astrid of all people yelled out for him to get out of the way, and saw the recently polished edge of an axe coming in directly towards him. It was only luck that he had been able to almost instinctually bring up his shield and block the axe from connecting directly with him.

Still, would he have been doing as bad if he had not shot down the Nightfury and not gone after it? If his father had placed him into dragon training back when it was still his dearest wish, would he have done better? Perhaps there was even a chance that he could have done well enough to earn the right to be the champion – after all years as Gobber's apprentice had at least given him the stamina needed to swing a hammer for several hours. Sure it was less than half the weight of the war hammers Vikings used during dragon raids, but still…

Funny how that thought now filled him with both childlike excitement and revulsion. Excitement for the chance that his father would be proud of him if he managed to reach that point, and revulsion…

Revulsion for the thought of killing a dragon, no matter how much it wanted to kill him in return. The same revulsion that had been so completely absent until his encounter with the Nightfury.

Seriously though, would it have been better for him and everyone else if his most recent invention failed just like the others?

When sleep caught him, Hiccup had yet to arrive at any acceptable answer.

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He stood tall in the middle of the kill-ring, a decently sized axe (for him at least) in his hands. He could hear his father exclaiming something to the other Vikings gathered to watch his trial, but all of that was nothing more than background noise for him. His instincts were repeatedly warning him about the imminent danger he was in, and he could feel his hands involuntarily shake as shivers went up and down his spine. For the life of him he could not tell if these were shivers of excitement or fear.

Perhaps both, or considering the rather cold morning that it was, perhaps neither.

Everything up until now was in preparation for this day. He had shot down the Nightfury, but that was fated not to be his first kill. Instead he went through dragon training, survived and flourished where everyone else thought he would fall and die as he did. He shivered again, and this time it definitely wasn't because of the cold.

It was still too early to breach that topic, even in his own thoughts.

His blood was still too fresh upon these stones.

The grating sound of the gates opening brought him back to the present and he berated himself for becoming so absorbed in superficial things. There would be time for them later, right now though there was only time for one thing…

My body is a finely honed axe that my mind swings – there is no time for fear and hesitation that would blunt my strikes and dull my edge. There is no grief, there is no uncertainty – there is only my determination…

His father's words resonated through him, and even as the gates slammed open, releasing the beast within, he stood rock still and emotionless – with only his eyes showing any sign of movement as they unblinkingly tracked the movement of the flaming dragon attempting to get behind him.

Turning around, his face split into a smirk as his eyes glittered in anticipation. Swinging his axe behind him, he rushed off towards the Monstrous Nightmare, whose baleful red eyes yearned for nothing but his own death. No matter what happened, only one of them would walk out of here alive, for such was the time honoured tradition of his tribe. There would be no help coming from the gathered Vikings – it was just him and the dragon.

Blood ran down his arm from the deep gash stretching all the way from his shoulder down to his elbow, and yet his face was adorned with a wide smile. For a while it seemed as if the battle would not go in his favour, especially after he had been just a bit too slow to prevent the claws from slicing into him to give him the worst wound yet when he had foolishly attempted to come at it from the side; but as with all such things the battle was decided in a single moment when he had managed to get underneath the Nightmare's head as it attempted to chomp down on him, and in that moment of weakness sliced at its neck.

The wound had been quite shallow, and yet it managed to nick the carotid artery that was one of the few weaknesses that all dragons possessed. After that, the battle was basically over. It took almost a minute for the dragon to become weak enough to drop down, but all he needed to do was avoid its attacks. At that point they were both bleeding excessively from their respective wounds, but the Nightmare's was much worse than his.

Looking down he raised his axe with his weaker (but still working) arm, prepared to end it all once and for all when unintentionally his eyes glanced over the dragon's and their gazes locked.

Green eyes looked into green eyes, and he could not help but step away, his legs snapping one of the twigs littering the forest around him.

Those eyes, looking at him with all their pain and fear laid bare for him to see…

Asking for mercy – begging him not to do this…

And once again he wondered if he was doing the right thing – but just like the last time, he did not have an answer.

With a sigh he took a step back and began to turn around when his hand dropped downwards, driving the axe still held tightly within its palm through the skull of the dragon in front of him; the green eyes still staring at him even as they lost focus, almost as if to ask why he would do this – why he would kill it when it had released him when their positions have been reversed.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the Monstrous Nightmare spasm a few times before stilling, its red eyes glazing over in the finality of death.

His body unheeding of his thoughts turned around, whether to look over the now cheering crowd or so as to not have to see the depths of his sins behind him he did not know.

Even as the yells of the Vikings washed over him, he could only think one thought – though whose thought it was, he did not know.

:: Why… ::

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Hiccup woke up with a yell, flailing his arms against the material that seemed to be suffocating him. Still half asleep he rolled off his bed and onto the floor, his arms too tied up to be of any use to break the fall.

His head hitting the wooden floor stunned him for a moment while also being enough to finish waking him up and causing his scream to abruptly cut off. His heart was still frantically attempting to escape from his chest, and for a moment he just lay there blinking away the white stars swimming through his vision while trying to understand where he was.

Ok, I have got to stop waking up this way…

Every time he had one of his nightmares, he somehow always managed to wake up screaming, tied up, and on the floor. Sometimes his dreams were happy, or at least satisfying – he had once dreamt that his father had arranged for him and Astrid to marry, which he did find rather revolting at the time as he had been seven, but it was perhaps that dream that started off his slight interest in her. Still during most nights he did not dream – dreams were few and far between and usually ended up being more of a nightmare than anything – like these last two.

What was worrying was that these two nightmares came right on top of one another, but Hiccup thought that he could probably account that to his recent flood of near-death experiences. No, what worried him most was that if he counted the dragon raid, it had been over three days since he had some good sleep.

Fortunately for him, Gobber had decided at the end of dragon training yesterday to give them all a day of rest to relax their muscles, so he did not have to go up against yet another dragon today – which could easily result in even worse consequences for him if he had had to go at it in the state he was in.

For now though he thought as he untangled himself from the furs surrounding him and throwing them back onto his bed, I will like nothing more than to wash off my sweat… again… and then get back to sleep. If he was lucky, this time his sleep would be nice, long, and most importantly dreamless – he had enough of fighting dragons during training to have to contend against them while asleep as well.

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As he made his way back inside, Hiccup had to re-evaluate his plans. As he should have known, the cold bath had much the same effect on him that it had yesterday – doing wonders to completely wake him up. Somehow he doubted he would be able to get back to sleep even if he tried.

Well, at least that means I will not be seeing another dream again… That thought brought up his spirits up some. With the way things happened after the dragon raid, he would be glad to have a single day without dragons.

The familiar sounds of repetitive hammering permeated the air as he passed through the forge – while he was out Gobber had started up the forge and was hammering away at a red hot piece of metal that from the looks of it was a halfway formed axe head. From his own experience Hiccup knew that while some dented or bent weapons after a raid could be easily fixed, enough had to be melted down and re-forged to take up most of Gobber's free time. In a way their free day today was likely as much due to Gobber's need to catch up on work as to give them all time to rest after dragon training.

"So nice to see you among the living – wasn't sure ye were coming back when ye passed me along the way out, what with the blank staring eyes, dragging feet and who knows what else. Saying ye looked like death warmed over would have been giving ye looks too much credit." Gobber's voice echoed above the sounds of steel hitting steel.

"Didn't get much sleep last night, alright? Still, I am fine now – a barrel of half frozen water works wonders doesn't it"

"Aye, so it does. Do try and get some more sleep before tomorrow though will ya? Don't want you dropping down during dragon training do we now? Anyway, get something to eat and come on over – I need all the help I can get with the latest batch of weapons. If it aint a dragon tooth that finally takes me down, I put my other leg on it being one of these swords that does me in. Blasted things bend out of shape under the lightest of taps…" Gobber's mutters trailed off, getting buried under the constant sound of his hammer's blows.

"Sure, sure" Hiccup yelled behind him, not having stopped his walk back to his room throughout the conversation. Quickly throwing his used clothes to the side, Hiccup put on his shirt and vest that he had not bothered to take outside with him as he had expected to get back to bed. Checking to make sure his most recent journal was with him along with his dagger, he proceeded down to the kitchen.

Taking out a loaf of bread he idly munched on it as he searched around for some smoked fish or dried meat… or really something edible to fill his grumbling stomach with.

"Gobber! Did you move your fish and meat around since I was last here?" He yelled out upon coming up empty for the second time. When no answer was forthcoming Hiccup moved back towards the forge and yelled out again. This time the hammering paused and Gobber's voice boomed back towards him.

"Just finished what I had lad! – check outside if we have any hanging around. If there aint just go down and get some from the stores – enough to last us for the week mind ya."

His grunt of "fine" was lost as Gobber had started hammering away again. With a shrug Hiccup went outside, and noticing the empty drying racks turned to head to the docks to restock. His stomach faithfully growled again, making him wonder for a moment if this is what the Nightfury felt like when it found out it did not have any fish to eat.

At least I can just go down and get some more – even if it will be several hours before I eat…

Pushing the thoughts of the Nightfury down was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

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The way down to the docks was uneventful, and that was the primary problem. It was still early enough that few Vikings were around, leaving Hiccup alone with his thoughts to trudge his way through the streets, acutely aware of the partially destroyed village around him. On one side he could see a perfectly normal house that had survived the raid standing right next to another house that had several large holes blown through its side. Already there were planks of wood littering the floor next to it which would be used for repair within the next few days. Further down he could see the blackened remains of another house – this one having been completely destroyed, the debris from which was almost cleared away in preparation for new construction.

It was already the fourth day after the dragon raid, and all the dragon carcases have long since been disposed of. Better still, the squall several days ago had washed away all the blood that had stained the streets and cleared up the air from the smells of burnt flesh and blood. The funeral pyres have been sent off at sunset on the day of the raid, and unfortunately (or fortunately, he wasn't quite sure) for Hiccup he had been unable to attend as he had at that time been busy lying unconscious in the woods after releasing the Nightfury.

Still, he had attended an uncountable number of them during his life, and in some ways has gotten used to them. Death was after all an occupational hazard for them all – something he had been made acutely aware of these past few days.

Idly he wondered if the dragons felt the same way – did they also come back to their nest and mourn those they have lost during the raid? For some reason ever since meeting the Nightfury he just could not think of them as beasts…

Well, not exactly for 'some' reason if he was truthful with himself. Now that he had all the time in the world to think about it, he could easily pinpoint the exact time when he started feeling this way – even now he could clearly see the gaping jaw darting in to end his life before the paw of the same Nightfury intercepted it. He had no idea why it had done that, but he couldn't consider it as just a simple beast after that – not when it had hurt itself to stop his death (even if that death would have been caused by its own teeth).

Would it have done the same if it knew that it was me who shot it down in the first place?

Would it indeed. Strangely enough he did not care either way. For the first time in his life he felt ashamed of his own actions, and not in a '…I am sorry the contraption failed…' kind of way but in a genuine state of shame for what he had done. Ironic that it had not been him burning down half the village that had brought about these feelings of shame, but nearly killing a dragon.

Although now he was feeling guilty for not feeling guilty for almost burning down half the village…

Wait, what?

With a violent shake of his head Hiccup sped up towards the docks. Sometimes his thoughts confused even himself.

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The docks were not such per se – the area called 'the docks' covered nearly a third of the village and consisted of both the extensive wooden platforms around which the Viking longboats and visiting merchant ships were tied, and quite a fair amount of storage houses further in. These huts were built at least several orders of magnitude sturdier than other Viking houses, mostly because the materials stored within could not be as easily replaced as whatever you decided to keep in your lodgings.

Things like building material, furs, smoked fish and meat, raw fish and meat, grain, not to mention dragon skin and bones were all among the multitude of things that one could find if he knew which storage house to look in. Being so close to the ships allowed for easy trade for merchants while at the same time keeping everything away from where the bulk of dragons focus on – namely the sheep pens on the opposite end of the village and the drying racks near the Viking lodgings.

No one knew why dragons did not focus more on the storage houses considering the copious amounts of fish and meat that was usually kept there, but they have long since learned to accept their blessings whenever they appeared. Perhaps it was because by weight the sheep were better sources of food while the drying racks simply smelled inviting, but realistically the reasons did not matter. The sheep pens and lodgings were attacked while the docks mostly weren't, that was all there was to it.

With the traders coming once a year during the warmest of the summer months and this year's group not due to arrive for at least another month there wasn't anyone around to guard the docks. With the constant threat of dragon attacks combined with the constant need to rebuild destroyed houses, not to mention the constant possibility of death, everything in storage was freely available to anyone that needed it. Even the doors were only bolted in without any locks, mostly to prevent animals and weather from wandering in. Trading was conducted by either Stoick or several other Vikings who were well versed in such arts, and it was generally left up to each Viking's honor to only take what they or their family needed to survive.

As for payment… Sooner or later all Vikings paid with their limbs or life.

Hiccup of course knew all this, so he was hardly surprised when no one stopped him from unfastening the heavy latch and making his way into the storehouse where all the fish from the latest expeditions was dumped off – usually to be taken apart and either salted or smoked for long term storage. With the most recent fishing trip having come in yesterday, he was quite sure that most of the fish would be fresh and still in storage.

The smell of fish and saltwater surrounding him, he quickly picked up a basket almost a third of his own height and roughly the same in breadth, and proceeded to unhook several cod and haddock, checking them over and throwing them into the basket. From the looks of it, he was going to spend the entire morning skinning and taking apart the quickly filling basket of fish before frying up some for himself and Gobber while salting the rest. The two of them preferred salted fish over smoked – especially on a loaf of bread.

Covering the basket and tying off the lid so as not to spill any fish on his way back, Hiccup made his way out of the storehouse, and latching it closed proceeded to make his way back. While normally he did not mind the smell of fish – you couldn't live on Berk for long if you did after all – this time the strong smell reminded him of the Nightfury's failed attempts at fishing, and he really did not want to think about it at the moment.

So what if it was lying around dying of hunger in the cove it could not possibly get out of… It's not like I can do anything about… it…

It felt as if the fish basket he was carrying on his back suddenly got heavier to remind him of its existence. Of course! Just walk in there and give it several cod and a pack of haddock for lunch. As for desert? Why there was a perfectly good Hiccup Haddock the Third around! Sure he was barely skin and bones, but Haddocks are quite a rare catch after all – a veritable delicacy for a healing dragon!

Almost as if his mind had a mind of its own, Hiccup vividly recalled sitting there on the ledge watching the dragon below looking up at him with an almost perplexed expression – one that (at least in his memory) did not contain any anger or malevolent intent. He could clearly remember how it turned away from him and attempted to catch some fish. Yet another crack in his decision to stay away from the Nightfury appeared as he once more remembered that it failed to catch any (not that he needed any reminding – that thought has been on his mind the entire day)

How is going there to feed it any different from cutting apart its bindings and releasing it? After all, if I just leave it there, how would that be any different from killing it? I might as well have killed it when I first found it and saved it days of pain and hunger… The green eyes of the dragon from his dream flashed in his mind, along his dream self's doubts about killing it.

Right – plan for the day: Get back to Gobber, hook a few fish off to the side, get Gobber to fry a few while he salted the rest, eat some fish, escape from Gobber, get to the cove, feed ravenous dragon… and hopefully don't get eaten.

Dang it all, and he so wanted to have at least one day without dragons complicating matters.

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A/N

I actually did not want to have the dream that I placed in this chapter here – mostly because combined with Hiccup's first dream and Toothless' dream, this makes it the third chapter in a row to have a dream sequence in it. I tried moving it around or even getting rid of it, but after the fourth attempt had to give up – the story wants them like this, and who am I to say otherwise.

On a happy note, I forgot to mention before but we have finally passed the 50 review mark! Wonder if I can clear 100 before I finish the current cycle (nowhere close to being half way, so probably no). Grats to Anhedral for being the 50th person to review my story.

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Saienai signing off