Chapter 3

Three months.

It had only been three months since Agdar had met Hiccup Haddock, and since then, his life's been looking a whole lot less grey.

The boy was a fountain of new knowledge, just wanting to be tapped into. He'd learned that Hiccup was an artist, as much as he was an inventor. He remembered his reaction to watching Hiccup masterfully sketch Arendelle Castle only the week before. The boy had gotten all its details in a matter of minutes. Agdar had been more than a little impressed. He had even joked about Hiccup being able to look at the world once, and draw it entirely, but he didn't miss the way Hiccup's face lit up with curiosity. He could practically see the gears turning in his head, figuring out the best approach to meeting that goal.

He didn't know how the boy would do it, but he had no doubt he'd try. Hiccup Haddock never gave up, and the thought brought an inspiration to continue the day with a newfound determination.

As it was, Agdar was whistling a happy tune, so out of place in the depressing halls of his home, as he made his way down the stairs for breakfast, that his wife looked at him funny when he entered the dining room. He smiled at her and decided he'd rather sit next to her today, than at the other end of the table. He enjoyed the pleasant, surprised smile he got from her, and silently vowed to do this more often.

"So what's put my husband in such a cheery mood these past few months?" his wife asked, amused with his spontaneous actions.

"Would you believe it was the actions of a northern boy?" he asked in return.

He could tell when the word Viking passed through her mind, and was thankful she didn't press the issue. Agdar wasn't a fan of passing judgment before having all the facts, and was blessed with a wife whose views were the same way.

"So what is it about this northerner that has you whistling?"

"He fascinates me, Iduna!" he exclaimed with a childlike glee. "Everything he does, he does with such passion, with a joy at being able to help someone."

"So what does he do, exactly?" his wife asked, quickly becoming intrigued with this development.

"Anything. Everything," Agdar said, as if that explained it all. The look from his wife told him it indeed did not.

"He's a blacksmith apprentice," he quickly added. "Though he's so much more. The boy draws! I mean really draws! He sketched out the castle in a matter of minutes! On his very first day in town he fixed Madam Helen's oven. The thing had a crack going right down the middle! There shouldn't have been anyway to fix it, but he did, and with dragon saliva no less."

The Queen's eyes went wide with shock. "Did you say dragon saliva?"

"I know, I was the exact same way. Apparently his village gets raided by the beasts. Most islanders would kill first, ask questions later, but not Hiccup. He looks at the dragons in a different light. He figured out that dragon saliva could work as a heat-resistant mortar. If it has to sustain dragon fire, it can sustain an oven's heat."

"I'm sorry did you say Hiccup? That's the boy's name?" the look on his wife's face was one of mortifying confusion. Who could name a child after a bodily function?

That elicited a booming laugh from the king. "Hiccup Haddock," he said, holding up three fingers. "The third."

A gasp escaped her as her hands flew to her mouth when the realization struck.

Good, she understands.

"A chief's son? Here? Why on earth is he so far from home?"

The question had his brow furrowing. "I'm not sure. He seemed afraid when I told him I knew. The odd thing was, it seemed that it wasn't fear of Arendelle finding out, but of Berk."

He looked sad as he remembered what he had looked like upon entering the bakery.

"You should have seen him, Iduna. He was this dirty, scrawny thing with dark bags under his eyes, a mop of unruly, filthy hair. The boy tells me people called him a fishbone in his old village," he said bitterly.

"Sounds like a horrid place to live. No child deserves to be broken and beaten like that. I'm glad he came here," his wife told him, rubbing a reassuring hand over his shoulder.

"That's just it though. Here was a boy, dirty, small, malnourished and alone. Anyone like that shouldn't be alive, but Hiccup...he had a..a fire in his eyes, that was so unnatural yet fit perfectly into place. Broken, maybe. But not beaten. Not by a long shot." He finished.

They ate in silence for a bit, content to just be near each other as they finished up their breakfast. Again, however, the Queen interrupted the silence.

"So what else has Hiccup done?" she pressed. "He's been here a few months, surely he's done more than sketch the castle and fix an oven."

That brought a smile to Agdar's face. "I overheard some fisherman the other day talking about how they've been mysteriously getting a few extra loads of cod every week. I have a feeling Hiccup's behind that as well. How though, I couldn't say. He's outgoing and guarded, sarcastic and serious, a happy 15 year old and a man with all the world's weight on his shoulders, all at the same time. It's maddening and a completely hiccup thing to be. I don't know a quarter of what's going on in that mind of his."

His wife smiled and glanced at the clock and seemed to realize what time it was.

"Well I've kept you long enough, perhaps today you'll find out a little more," she said to him with a warm smile.

Upon hearing the dismissal, the excitement of his weekly activity (for it was no longer a duty to him), returned. Jumping up and kissing his wife passionately, he sprinted out of the room, satisfied with the blush his wife was wearing.

Hiccup POV

Hiccup was starting that day like any other day in Arendelle; devouring the edible gold that Helen called bread. Hiccup knew what bread tasted like, and this wasn't it. Bread was rough and chewy, and sometimes even damp. This? This was light, fluffy, and utterly addicting. It was precious enough he wouldn't even share any with Toothless. What If the dragon liked it? Then he'd have to share the bread.

No. That just wouldn't do.

"You may want to get rid of that look in your eye, lad. People might start to wonder if your relationship with the loaf is less than innocent," cackled Hadvar the blacksmith, as Hiccup walked into the store with his daily rations.

"Oh those people just don't understand this beauty on the same level that I do," Hiccup responded sarcastically, making a show of kissing the loaf on the heel.

"Their loss I suppose," the blacksmith deadpanned. "Now get to work, there's a few shovels and hoes that need fixing."

Hiccup nodded, and after putting away his things, got to work.

Working at the forge in Arendelle was an entirely different feeling than that of working at the forge on Berk. The forge in Arendelle was used mainly for everyday items, like farming tools, and nails. Sure they had their orders for weapons, mainly to keep the Arendelle guard's gear in top condition, but overall, there was no real need for the mass production of armaments that Berk required. Another difference was the layout of the forge itself. Berk's was filled with barrels of excess weapons, and was habitually very crowded. Arendelle's was not only larger, but more organized, with tradable goods hung neatly on the walls and excess metal stored away for later use. These were traits Hiccup loved dearly. While he used his own forge back home to lay out all his schematics and drawings, he wanted his workspace clean and open. The forge was a corner shop, with three open arches on either side facing the street. The inside corner was dominated by the large forge. In the winter, all but one of the arches would be closed, allowing heat to be trapped within the building, but on a nice, early spring afternoon, when the weather was fair, all the doors were open, and the forge was lit up with natural sunlight and a welcome breeze would filter through.

Hiccup loved it. Not only was he working under more peaceful conditions, but he was getting compliments from the people he'd done work for. While towards them, he'd politely tell him he was only doing his duty as a blacksmith, he always got a warm feeling of pride whenever his usefulness was noted. It made him double his efforts to do the best he could. He never expected the compliments or show of gratitude, but if they were going to appreciate his work, he was going to make it worth the appreciation.

His mood wasn't the only thing to change over the last couple months. With his increase in actual food, he'd started to fill out, and muscles that he had secretly had for a few years were starting to show. Hours taken to riding Toothless and wrestling around with his friend had given him even more strength and endurance. The lanky teen was quickly developing a core and knew it. The thought of being able to help others with tasks he was previously too weak to attempt, made him smile.

Agdar's POV

When Agdar entered the forge, he wasn't greeted. Not by a person at least. Both the blacksmith and his apprentice were hard at work, wrapped in his own thoughts. It gave him time to look around the forge, something he hadn't been able to do in length, as usually one of them was always ready to engage him in conversation.

If he was being honest, he had little idea at what he was looking at. There were so many tools in the shop it made his head spin, but both Hadvar and Hiccup seemed to know exactly which tools to use. There was one oddity in the store however, which the king knew was out of place in a forge. In a box near the one of the doors, was a pile of pelts.

Hadvar seemed to have noticed his presence, because the old man quietly got up from his work and made his way towards him.

"Hello Agdar, how goes your weekly trump through the kingdom?" the old man asked, good-naturedly.

"It goes. Thought I'd drop by, see how our boy's doing," Agdar replied.

"Other than his unwavering fascination with the common starch, I'd say he's coming along fine. I've hardly had to teach him anything, but whatever I have taught him he's taken immediately to mastering. I've never seen a boy's work that was that high in quality," Hadvar replied.

Agdar gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean? How good is he?"

The blacksmith turned to look at him. "Good. Very Good. Damn near perfect, really. The lad's clearly been working at a forge for years, probably as a weapon smith. He seems more comfortable working on blades than on nails and rods, but he gives it all his complete attention."

Agdar chuckled at that. "Much like everything else he sets his mind to."

He turned his attention back to the box of pelts, drawing the other man's attention.

"Ah, those would be Hiccup's. Brought them in this morning before he left to get his food."

"They seem like remarkably good quality, I wonder where he got them from," the king pondered.

"I got them from the woods," said the subject of their conversation.

Both men seemed to jump a little at the noise, since neither one had realized he had finished with his work. Hiccup grinned.

"Some of the farmers were complaining about wolves preying on their livestock. I told them I would handle it. This was what I got last night," he said, gesturing to the pelts.

Agdar couldn't believe it. This boy, this small, skinny boy, was able to not only take down, but professionally skin what looked to be half a dozen wolves in a single night?

"Wh-what do you plan to do with them? I know a few people who would love to hang a few of these in their house," Agdar asked.

Hiccup looked at him with horrified, incredulous eyes. "Hang them in their house?! Like a decoration?!" he exclaimed, positioning himself between them and the box. "I wasn't planning on selling them at all, let alone sell them for something as trivial as a wall aesthetic!"

It was Agdar's turn to look incredulous. "You aren't planning on selling them? Why ever not? Pelts are worth a great deal in these parts."

Hiccup seemed to calm down a bit, because his answer is much calmer than it had been before.

"I have no need for extra money. I get enough as is by working at the smithy. Where I'm from, pelts are valuable as well, but for another reason. They keep us warm when the nights get too cold and winter's biting breath seeps through the cracks in our homes," Hiccup visibly shivers at the thought before Agdar finds himself looking directly into forest green eyes.

"I'd rather keep them unneeded than not have them when they are."

The heart of a chief.

The thought struck the king like a blow. Agdar feels pity for Berk. They pushed away somebody who would have led them into prosperity. Here was a boy, who as his wife at so delicately put it, was broken and beaten by his own people. Except that wasn't the case, was it? He hadn't broken, simply bended to meet the needs of his people. If those needs happened to be "pick on the runt", who was he to stop them?

How couldn't they see the big-hearted teen that was right in front of them for fifteen years?

"Their loss," he whispered.

Hiccup snapped his head up to look at him, and they locked eyes with each other, before Hiccup gave a small, thankful smile, and returned to his work.

Agdar thought he might need some time for himself, so he bid them both a good day. Among all the small achievements that Hiccup had already completed, Agdar knew there was still an underlying loss. He felt bad for bringing up his home, but he had meant what he said.

Berk had lost more than their heir. They had lost their pride.

Hiccup's POV

Their loss.

The words rung in Hiccup's head even as his friend/mentor, he wasn't quite sure, left the forge.

They meant more to him than any other gesture he'd been shown thus far. It wasn't simply an act of gratitude towards him helping a neighbor, or being a worthy worker of the forge.

It was recognizing that he came from a place that didn't care for him, and that he was appreciated. That meant everything to him. He may miss Berk from time to time. Miss his father, or the rough culture that was in his veins, but he no longer considered his old village home. He'd found a home.

With tears gently rolling down his face, he went to go retrieve his bread and sneak another bite in before Hadvar told him to get back to work.

He was more than a little shocked to find a dog trying to nose its way into the bag.

"Hey! Get away you-you, thief! That's MY bread!" and damn if Hiccup heard his voice crack with despair. Hadvar would be giving him hell for that one later.

The dog growled at him, grabbed the bag and took off down the street. Hiccup went after it immediately and as he sprinted down the crowded streets of Arendelle, he couldn't help but chuckle at the familiarity. He may have traded one pest problem for another, but neither one was any less offensive than the other. Hiccup knew the makings of a raid when he saw one. Taking his bread? It was low. Really low, but Hiccup was used to the idea of chasing after those who raid his home.

Because despite him leaving his village, he's a Viking. It's an occupational hazard.