The Next Day
"Alright, that should do it for our winter grain storage. Is there anything else that needs to be tended to, Halli?" Stoick handed a scroll to said man. Halli's trained eyes quickly gazed through the directions his Chief had just written seconds ago detailing the plans and procedures for this winter's food storage.
"Aye Chief. I'll get this to the lads' by rays' first light tomorrow." Halli Hallfredsson was Berk's head of all farming related matters. If Stoick had any plans on expanding farms, planting new vegetables, or creating new land for their animals, he would always run it by Halli first.
"Perfect. Moving on, is there anything else that hasn't been brought to my attention?" Stoick's tired voice echoed amongst his council members. End of the week meetings were always the most tedious and time consuming ones for everyone on the council. Tasks always included going through a recap of the week's assignments and projects, going through the villagers' complaints and suggestions, and creating schedules for the next week.
"Aye Stoick, we just received a bundle of scrolls, all bearing seals of other tribes." Spitelout said, pulling sealed parchments from his satchel and placing them in front of the Chief. Everyone at the table groaned in annoyance, save for Stoick who let out a resigned exhale. "Now, now. Don't get your skivvies in a bunch. We don't have to tend to this lot till tomorrow." Spitelout chuckled, but his face turned serious soon. "I bring this up because of this specific scroll." He pulled out said parchment from the pile and handed it to Stoick. Chiefs would usually send each other scrolls with their personal seals on them. The matter of scrolls bearing a Chief's seal on it usually consisted of being an invitation, a notice ahead of one's own arrival, or a a declaration of war if they were civil enough. And this scroll had a seal that Stoick knew all too well.
"I see that the Chief of Helgafell wishes has some business with us." Bran Hofferson asked.
"Read it for us, Spitelout." The second-in-command nodded, grabbing hold of the scroll and unrolling it. "'Stoick the Vast, Great Chieftain and Warrior of Berk, I write to you in the hope of building up our tribal relations. I had planned on visiting Berk's shores myself but had to remain behind in Helgafell due to an uprising in one of our colonies. But I do not intend to waste this most auspicious opportunity to establish diplomatic and trade relations with Berk pass by. Therefore, in my stead, I will be sending my first-born son, Torsten, to handle negotiations and establishing new, diplomatic ties. He will be arriving within a months' time the moment my message reaches your hands. Please do look after my son and I look forward to hearing about the meeting from him personally when he returns.' Signed, Gunvald the Conqueror." Spitelout concluded the message, rolling it back up. "I really do wish Chiefs would not send someone else in place of them for these very important meetings." Spitelout grumbled, tossing the paper onto the table.
"Who delivered this message?" Gobber chimed in.
"A trader delivered it from one of Helgafell's messengers on Husavik, which coincidentally, is a fifteen day journey from here." Spitelout confirmed. "I've been there before. Nothing more than a trading post with a few comforts here and there for weary travelers and sailors."
"What are the chances he's like his father?" Bran asked, wearing a concerned expression. "We've all heard the stories of Gunvald the Conqueror. Brash, ruthless, arrogant, bloodthirsty."
"Bran's right. We at least would have known how to deal with Gunvald. What are we going to do if his son turns out to be a bigger bastard than his old man?" Bjarke asked.
"I understand all of your concerns." Stoick interrupted, his voice reverberating off the old, polished oak walls of the council room, bringing everyone's attention back onto him. "It is a pity that we will not be meeting with Gunvald. But this is still an opportunity we cannot take lightly. We will do what we have always done, which is accept all visiting Chiefs and their kin with open arms, throw them a momentous feast in our Great Hall, and establish new and lasting relations with them. And because this might be our one and only moment to meet with his son alone, we will be able to observe him discreetly ourselves and see whether he's a man, and by extension his father, that we can align ourselves with." There was a chorus of 'aye's' and nods from the rest of the members. "We're going to have to strengthen our patrols in a couple of weeks. Bjarke, I can leave that to you as usual, right?"
"Of course Chief! I'll start planning out routes, pairings and schedules for my men."
"Even though it is a month before our guest, does anyone have concerns or information about this Torsten fellow?"
"Apart from being the spittin' image of his old man? Not a word." Gobber said.
"I have heard a few rumours." Fritjof spoke up. Fritjof Karsisson is the council member in charge of all matters related to trade in Berk. Appointed by Stoick not long after he took on the mantle of Chief, Fritjof set to work immediately, going through Berk's trade contracts and history, conversing with traders and merchants he knew personally, and travelling to neighboring and distant villages and towns to gather any and all knowledge he could acquire to help Berk prosper in its trade negotiations. Everyone on the council knew the kind of connections he had. Certain perks of being part of the traders' information vine.
When all eyes landed on him, he continued, "Gobber's right about him being the spitting image of his father. In appearance and personality. He's a natural born leader. Arrogant, but calculated. Charismatic when he wants to be. Doesn't take 'no' for an answer. And just like his father, he has his little sadistic side pleasures as well."
"How sadistic?" Bran asked.
"He likes making fools of his counterparts. Goads them into duals through personal insults and the like. And once he handily disposes of them in the ring, he'll demand some type of hefty compensation. I've no idea what type of settlement he thrusts upon them, but I imagine it is not meant out for eyes or ears outside of his circle. Then there's your usual torture, slave-trading, and engaging in...extracurriculars."
"He's right." Saemund Valbrandsson jumped in. He was Berk's resident diplomat, always accompanying the Chief on his meetings with other Chiefs and leaders, or representing Stoick if he was ever unable to attend in person. Needless to say Stoick had a deep-seated trust in the man. "I've kept in touch with a few of my acquaintances on Akrar, Botarskal, and Hofslond, neighboring towns of Helgafell. What happens in matters regarding Torsten are usually hush-hush. Any crime, scandal, or rumour about him is usually taken care of through bribes, or threatening the involved party's life or family."
"Wonderful. One of those men. Just what Berk needs. Another downright rotten bastard of a Viking." Gobber scoffed.
"We can't say much, old friend." Stoick laid a hand on the smith's shoulder. "Berk was just like Helgafell a few generations ago." Gobber was about to argue when Spitelout cut in, getting the conversation back on track before it could deviate any further.
"How reliable are your sources?"
"Very. They're traders, merchants, and tavern owners I've dealt with personally on trade missions in the past, and they know men who've dealt with Gunvald and Torsten."
"You'd think a man of his stature would do a better job of hiding his pleasures." Bjarke remarked.
"That just goes to show how much his reputation precedes him, Bjarke. One of the perks of being a single heir, I suppose." Fritjof said.
"He's unmarried?" Stoick asked.
"That he is. I've also heard he is actively searching for a wife."
"And no matter how good his circle and father are at covering up his scandals, I haven't heard any good things about his recent visits and meetings with potential wives in villages near Helgafell." Saemund added, an underlying accusation in his tone that everyone in the room understood.
"And word of Astrid's fight against a Jormung would have reached their lands by now." Bran said, annoyed, warranting sympathetic looks from his friends. If there was one type of man he didn't want his daughter catching the eye of, it'd be someone like Torsten. "Why do I feel like this entire visit is just a whole pretense of scoping out potential wives."
"Because it might just be that." Stoick assumed. His statement brought down a heavy hammer of silence. He was already splitting hairs over this visit. But to know now that the entire reason for this visit may just be to observe Berk's very own unmarried girls made him more than a little tense. But he couldn't afford to look worried now.
"Well," He clapped his hands together, snapping everyone out of the somber mood, "We won't know for sure until the man gets here, and that won't be for another month. Until then, make all the necessary preparations. Bjarke, I expect to see your schedule on patrols, list of guards and shifts, and any other request you have concerning security by the end of the week."
"At once Chief!" Bjarke acknowledged with a fist to the chest.
"Fritjof, send word out among the traders and merchants that Berk will need a new shipment of fresh meat, vegetables, wine, and decorative cloths and banners. Only the finest items and food that we can expect in three weeks."
"I'll start sending them out tomorrow morning, Chief."
"Good man. Gobber-"
"I know the protocol, Stoick! Give all the weapons and armour in the Great Hall a good sprucin' up. Make them all look as if they were fresh outta the forge." Stoick smiled at his friend. Always on top of the tasks assigned to him.
"Saemund, reach out to your friends and acquaintances who have ties and knowledge of Torsten. I want everything you can dig up about him, and try to confirm those rumours surrounding him."
"Got it, Chief."
"Good. Bran, I'll need you and Spitelout to help with making the rounds with our farmers. We'll also need to start building up new guest houses for their welcome."
"Leave it to us, Stoick." Spitelout declared. With everyone assigned their tasks, they broke for the evening. Bjarke, Spitelout, Saemund, and Fritjof took their leave after bidding goodbyes with Stoick and the others, making their way to the laid out food in the Hall to grab a quick bite before heading back home.
"I'll be waitin' for ya in the Hall, Stoick. I'll 'ave a couple of mugs ready for ya." Gobber said, patting him on the shoulder, before lumbering out into the Hall.
"Aye, Gobber." Stoick nodded, sitting back down in his seat to compose himself after another tiring day, enjoying the brief respite. Constantly worrying about the upkeep and preparations for Torsten's visit wouldn't do him any favors keeping the grey hairs at bay. He'd have to make sure everyone was on their best behavior, Torsten and his attendants excluded. Couldn't have him claiming his pride was wounded or offended by some villager's stray comment. He'd also have to speak with families who had betrothed daughters and girls of marrying age to keep weary during the Helgafell heir's visit, lest he becomes infatuated by one of them.
"You look like you've been through a few good rounds with a Nightmare." Bran commented, grabbing a seat next to his Chief, and sliding him a mug of water. He definitely felt like he did. A few good rounds with multiple Nightmares, but he'd keep that to himself.
"I could say the same about you. I swear you look ten years older after that meeting." On any other day, Berk would have relished the opportunity to welcome an heir of Torsten's caliber and name. They will do it, regardless. But it would have been a more cordial visit had he already had a wife, or a betrothed, by his side. "Are you going to tell Astrid about this?"
"I have to. Best warn her about Torsten now. Gives her ample time to prepare herself for any unwarranted advances and how to deal with him." He frowned. "I tell ya' Stoick, it ain't easy being a father of three girls. Especially one that's past marrying age."
"I'll take your word for it." Stoick chuckled, taking a swig of water, wetting his parched lips. "I am sorry, Bran. Wish I could suspect another reason to this visit but, I can't understand why else someone as far as Helgafell would prioritize sailing to Berk over diplomatic negotiations."
"Nothing we can do bout it. I just pray the lad not try anything, for his safety above all."
"Aye, we all know Astrid won't think twice about breaking a man's stray arm." Stoick chuckled, taking another swig of his mug, the cool, refreshing feel of collected spring water quenching his tired vocal chords.
"I'm sure Torsten knows that as well." Bran smiled ruefully. Stoick could tell he was already formulating on how to break the news to Astrid. It wouldn't do them any good discussing private matters he had no business hearing about. Not unless Bran came to him for advice or just an ear to vent to.
"Well, it's like ya said Bran," Stoick downed the rest of his mug and let it clank on the table, "nothing more we can do. Come on, let's head out there." He got up, and so did Bran, the two walking out of the council, and allowing the hustle and bustle of the Hall at peak dinner hours take their minds to other, less troublesome topics.
000
"You've been heading into the forest quite a bit these past few weeks, Astrid. Trying to catch up on the training you missed during your time away?"
"Ahaha, sort of. I figured I should get started on my Hunt training now rather than later." The comforting smell of her mother's salmon stew was wafting around the kitchen and dining areas of their newly rebuilt house. She was busy chopping carrots, potatoes, some greens, and slices of aged yak jerky her mom had pulled from the salt cellar they had outside. Her mother had banned her from ever attempting to cook a meal under their house and she was okay with that. They already had enough headaches with rebuilding their house after dragon raids. They didn't need the bonus work with her cooking, which she had to admit, was a disaster waiting to happen on most occasions. Cooking with her mom, the soothing sounds of laughter, and chatter coming from the fireplace where Asta and Bjorn were playing tag with Brenna. Watching Brenna laugh and run around after her older siblings reminded Astrid of just how close she had come to losing her. Hiccup really did save her family a lifetime's worth of grief and pain.
"Astrid? Astrid?" She felt a hand on her shoulder, and caught her mother's concerned expression. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm just taking in the moment." She said, her eyes still on her siblings. Her mom followed her gaze and smiled at the sight before her.
"Aye. I'll have to make a trip to the shrines again. No amount of gratitude and prayers could be enough to pay thanks to the gods for protecting our little Brenna."
"I'm sure they know, Mom." She definitely knows now. If it wasn't for Hiccup, they'd be struggling to move on from Brenna right about now. She'd have to thank him properly for his careless, but much, much appreciated risk to save her. And she'd probably take it easy on him going forward. Just a tiny bit, anyway.
She tossed the chopped ingredients into the pot and her mom placed the lid on it. "Thank you Astrid. I can take care of the rest from here."
"Call if you need anything." She replied, wiping her hands on the kitchen cloth and walked towards her siblings who were now sitting near the hearth talking about what they did today.
"We learned about the Book of Dragons today." Asta said as her big sister plopped down next to them. Brenna immediately went over to her, doll in hand, and sat with her back to her for their nightly routine. Astrid immediately went to work with her hair, unbraiding and re-braiding it. She used to do it with Asta but she grew out of it by the time she hit eight.
"Really? What dragons did you learn about this time?" She asked, keeping her fingers busy with her baby sister's growing locks while listening attentively to her sister's day in class.
Asta beamed while looking to at her. "A Night Fury." Astrid's fingers took a brief pause as she turned to Asta, raising an eyebrow.
"Really?" She saw how her eyes were lit up as if she came into contact with some mythical creature that was lost to the seas of time. Asta scooted closer to her and Brenna, speaking excitedly as she continued.
"Mhm-mm. We never talked about a Night Fury before and we were never instructed to read about it, either. You fought against it, Astrid! Could you tell us what it was like? Was it really as dangerous as the Book of Dragon says it is? Because the Book of Dragons only states that you run, hide, and pray it does not find you."
Astrid made a face as if she were deep in thought. Hoping to make it look like she was recollecting her memory of engaging Hiccup and Toothless on their island. "The Night Fury was scary. I didn't know how ferocious it would be when defending its rider so we all had to be extra, extra cautious when surrounding the Jormung." As she was reminiscing about their first encounter, it occurred to her just how weird it was to be referring to Toothless as a ferocious beast when just yesterday he was lounging beside her and Hiccup as if he were a common house pet.
"I thought Hoffersons don't scared?" Asta countered. Astrid made a fake pout, and halted Brenna's braiding to quickly ruffle Asta's hair, enjoying the sounds of protest from her. "You're messing up my hair!" She pulled back, flattening and pulling the straying strands back together with the rest of her hair.
"There are exceptions. Such as the 'run, hide, and pray they do not find you' kind." She shot back. Seeing Asta's adorable pout, she continued on. "It was black as the night, eyes as green as a sea of firs, and it's purple blasts were as deadly as a Deadly Nadder's."
"Purple blasts?" Bjorn asked, taking a seat with his sisters. "It doesn't breathe fire?"
"Not really. To be honest, I didn't know what those purple blasts were, and I didn't want to stick around long enough to find out." She'd make a mental note to ask Hiccup about Toothless and his attacks in the near future. In fact, she'd ask him on the first night of her dragon training. "It was fast. Extremely agile, and knew how to find a large group of hunters. If we weren't able to subdue its rider, the trappers and I would have been in for the fight of our lives."
"Wow." All three of her siblings echoed.
"You should tell Fishlegs all about this! You know how much he loves learning new dragon facts!" Asta beamed. And Astrid figure Fishlegs wasn't the only one who got all starry-eyed at new dragons and new dragon facts if her sister's enthusiasm wasn't a dead give-away.
"You know what? Maybe I will the next time I see him." Astrid finished her sentence just as she finished the last of Brenna's braids. "There you go my little princess!" Astrid snuggled Brenna close to her. Her little squeals of laughter were like music to her ears. A ray of sunshine on a cold winter's day.
Yeah, she would definitely thank Hiccup properly tomorrow.
"Ah, are you three giving little Brenna a hard time?" They all turned towards the front door, where their father just walked in, a homely smile adorning his face. "Daddy to the rescue my Brenna!" He yelled and quickly crossed the hall to the little group, scooping Brenna out of Astrid's arms and holding her up and spinning around slowly before bringing her in to his chest, all the while sauntering over to his wife and planting a big kiss on her lips.
"Ugh, dad!" Bjorn groaned, with Asta making gag noises.
"Knock it off you two." Astrid scolded, pinching the tips of their ears.
"Enough. All of you." Sigrid chastised. "Dinner's ready, how about you all set up the table before it gets any colder."
"Yes ma'am." Bran saluted, and handed Brenna off to their mother while he and the rest of the kids began setting up the table. "Oh, Astrid."
"Mhm?"
"Interesting council meeting tonight."
"Well there's an oxymoron if I ever heard one." She chuckled, setting down the spoons and forks. When her dad gave her an unamused stare, she scoffed. "Oh come on. 'Interesting' and 'council meeting' never go together."
"It's interesting because a potential suitor might be visiting Berk in the next month or so."
"Oh, Astrid's gonna get married, huh?" Bjorn came into the picture next to his sister, making the biggest puppy dog eyes he could, interlocking his hands and blinking as quickly as he could while making kissing noises. "Ah-ow-ow, ah." Everyone sighed when Astrid pinched his ear again but gave it a slight twist this time.
"Son, you know better than to tease your sister like that?" Bran shook his head.
"Just wait till I'm bigger than you." Bjorn grumbled, rubbing his ear.
"That'll be a long ten years for you." Astrid shot back, then turned back to her father. "Who is it this time?"
"Torsten of Helgafell."
"Son of Gunvald the Conqueror?" Her father nodded. She didn't know much about this Torsten, but she definitely heard of his father. If anything, she'd have be on her best behaviour, but on guard around him as well. "I'll entertain him if he's civilized. But he's going to end up like every other suitor who's tried to woo me." She rolled her eyes as she served herself some salmon stew, took a slice of bread and some yak jerky, and took her seat next to Asta and Bjorn, sitting across from her parents and Brenna.
"I'd keep an extra, careful watch over him, Astrid. He's one of those types."
"Ah, then he definitely won't be leaving here with my hand in marriage." She took a big spoonful of salmon and veggies.
"What are 'one of those' types?" Asta asked.
"You don't need to know yet, dear." Sigrid spoke up, effectively ending the conversation about that then and there.
"Oh yeah dad, I did want to ask you for a favour before I forgot."
"Sure, what is it Astrid?"
"Mind if I take up guard duty at the Arena?"
000 The Next Morning
Astrid woke up a bit earlier than she usually did. The sun was barely peaking above the horizon, and her siblings were fast sleep in their beds, silently thankful that she hadn't scheduled training for them today. She gave her face a quick wash, straightened out her hair, and made her braid in usual, quick time. Today was an off-day for her, and she was supposed to meet Hiccup today for his second combat lesson. However, she also rose early to scrounge together some bread and a few vegetables from the pantry and yak jerky from the cellar into her basket to deliver to Hiccup. Since the last time she saw him, he wished he had some vegetables to go with his meals, bringing some to him were easier than him scavenging around Berk or neighboring islands. It was certainly easier than stealing them.
With enough vegetables in her basket that her mother, hopefully, wouldn't notice were missing, and her water-skin, she quietly closed the door behind her, and took her usual route to the Cove, away from any busy paths in and around Berk so that no one would see her walking into the forest with a basket of goods. She didn't need any gossip about her going into the forest with food as if she were meeting a secret lover. Because that was not what this was. It was to make sure he had enough food to feed himself during his time here and to thank him properly for saving Brenna.
Although he should really consider her presence and willingness to train him thanks enough.
She regularly looked over her shoulder, making sure no one was around. Even though she knew no one in Berk came out to this part of the forest at any given time of day. She had to give Hiccup props for picking a location where there was no real foot traffic, including patrols. However, she always made sure to take a different path to the Cove to ensure that she herself wasn't making a foot trail to the location. One could never be too careful.
The sun was barely cresting over the tree line by the time she arrived. She spotted Toothless by Hiccup's tent, fast asleep. If he noticed her approach, he didn't given any indication and rolled over onto his back, and tongue rolling out as his hind leg kicked the air above him. Clearly he was enjoying his day-off too. Movement by the tent's entrance drew her attention away from the slumbering dragon and to its rider. She couldn't help the little curve of her lip at seeing his disheveled state. She'd only seen him in his black flight gear so far. Hiccup in regular pants and tunic was a welcome change she didn't know she needed to see. In fact, it made him look...normal. He looked nothing like the depictions of Jormung in tales of old and bedtime stories. He appeared to be just any other, regular Viking. Until one saw his eyes. And when they did make eye contact, those very same eyes lit up at the sight of her.
"Good morning, Astrid." He waved her over as he walked to the pond's edge.
"Morning." She replied, as she made her way down the slope, careful to keep the basket's contents firmly inside.
"What are you doing here so early? I know we have our lesson today, but you couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He couldn't help but tease her as he closed their distance, up until he was only an arm's length away.
"Hardly." Astrid rolled her eyes as she extended the basket towards him and he accepted it.
"What's this?"
"A yak's head. What do you think it is? Open and see." Hiccup graciously accepted the basket and flipped back the cover.
"Vegetables? And what's this? Bread? Jerky?" He asked while rummaging through the items inside.
"Since you wished you had some vegetables for our dinner two nights ago, I figured I'd save you some scavenging time and bring you some food from my own house to last you a few days before my next market run."
"You shouldn't have." He said, glancing to her. He was genuinely touched that she took the trouble of bringing him some of her home's food. "But won't your family notice missing vegetables?"
"Hopefully not. And don't mention it. It's the least I could do." She spoke while rocking back on her heels. Hiccup noticed this and he sensed her heart rate increase.
"What's wrong?"
"This," she gestured to the basket, "is probably not enough, but I wanted to properly thank you for saving my sister from the fire some time back." Hiccup definitely wasn't expecting an expression of gratitude and thanks today. The first time she thanked him, he thought nothing of it, and figured violence and stubbornness were just her way of grateful appreciation. But her sincere expression and eyes conveyed everything she couldn't put into words. "I only realized it yesterday seeing my siblings playing with each other, Brenna in my dad's and mom's arms. You saved us a burial and years worth of grief and more anger towards dragons." Hiccup didn't think of looking at it that way. "I didn't thank you enough before, so I'm thanking you now, and the basket is just a small part of it."
He glanced back down at the basket, truly touched. "You shouldn't have, you know." He said softly, avoiding eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "One of the perks of being a Jormung. Higher heat and burn tolerance than your average Viking. Can rush into fire and break down walls without much trouble."
"Now that must be nice." She said, attempting to break the emotional air that was setting in.
He caught on instantly. "Oh, are you wishing you were a Jormung now?" He received a swift punch to his free hand.
"Don't push your luck." She grinned. "Now are we going to get started, or what?"
"Can I at least change first?"
"Sure. Gives me time to bring some of the wooden swords from my training camp here." She turned to leave. "You better be ready, dragon boy." She cast him a playful smirk as she walked away. "You have no idea what you've signed up for."
Hiccup matched her smirk in equal playfulness. "Oh Milady, I think I do."