Dragons Against Drago Chapter 7
The prevailing wind carried the little ship out of the harbor. The ship carried no crew and only one passenger, who lay motionless beneath his shield. Stoick the Vast, chief of the Vikings of Berk, was taking his final journey.
"May the Valkyries welcome ye," Gobber began sadly, "and lead ye through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing yer name with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla, and know that ye've taken yer rightful place at the table of kings! For a great man has fallen, a warrior, a chieftain, a father... a friend." He wiped away some moisture from his eyes. It must have been spray from the waves, carried by the wind. Yeah, that's what it was.
Hiccup stood silently, flanked by all the other Night Furies of Berk and Dragon Island. He didn't even try to hold back the tears – doing things the Viking way had never been his way. He let out a sad croon that told the humans volumes about how he felt, then shot one firebolt into the hull of the ship. The other black dragons waited to see that the ship had caught fire, then launched a volley of their own firebolts. The ship was soon consumed in flames.
"Rest, Dad," Hiccup said softly. "I know I didn't turn out to be the son you wanted. Actually, I turned out to be the dragon you wanted to kill the most. It's to your credit that you could adjust to having a Night Fury in the family and dragons in your streets, and you brought your whole tribe along with you. In a culture that values war, your greatest achievement was peace. I hope they won't hold that against you in Valhalla."
"What is this 'Valhalla' that I keep hearing about?" Toothless asked.
"It's the place where the spirits of brave Vikings go after they die." Astrid was ready and willing to answer that. "They believe that the warrior spirits spend their days fighting battles against each other, and their nights eating and drinking with each other. Hiccup's father died bravely in battle against a hated enemy. If he'd had the choice, I doubt he would have chosen any other end."
"So their spirits never get to rest? They never know peace?" Toothless was puzzled. "If dragons had an afterlife, I don't think we'd want to go to a place where the fighting never ends."
"The Vikings think differently than we do, my friend," Hiccup said softly. He looked out to sea again. The ship had almost completely sunk; only its mast and yardarm were still above the water, hard to see through a cloud of smoke and steam. "Dad was the ultimate Viking. I never fit that mold, and I never could have fit it. You turning me into a dragon was definitely the best thing that ever happened to me."
Toothless stood next to his friend and watched the mast settle into the sea. "After all these years, I'm glad you still approve." He wrapped a wing around Hiccup. Astrid did the same on the other side of him. Hiccup closed his eyes and sighed heavily.
"Now comes the hard part," he said.
"You mean, learning to live without him?" Astrid asked.
"No. I mean trying to take his place."
o
The Vikings held a meeting in the Mead Hall that night. Vikings didn't like meetings any more than anyone else did, but they had to discuss the vital matter of who would be their next chief.
Spitelout rose to speak. "As the town's former second-in-command, I believe the responsibility should fall on me."
"What?!" Snotlout couldn't believe his ears. "Dad, I thought you wanted me to be the next chief!"
"That was assuming that Stoick lived his full lifespan, which would have given you time to grow up," Spitelout said patronizingly. "You're not ready yet. We need a new chief now, not five or ten years from now." At Snotlout's crestfallen expression, his father said, "Don't worry, son. You'll follow in my footsteps some day. Just not today."
Gobber considered the matter. He had strong misgivings about Spitelout's qualifications for the job, particularly his wisdom and his patience (or his near-total lack thereof), but there was no one else in the room with a stronger claim to become Berk's next chief. He, Gobber, was the current second-in-command, but many would consider him too old to take on the job, and his people skills were definitely not up to the task.
But what about the beings who weren't in the room? He whispered something to Varinn, who quickly and quietly left the Hall. Varinn was his last remaining apprentice. If something happened to him, the smith would probably have trouble finding another one; the rumor was going around that becoming Gobber's apprentice meant you were sure to be turned into a Night Fury.
"I have a question," Gobber called, trying to stall for time. "I'm thinkin' we ought to take Stoick's wishes into account before we make a decision, shouldn't we?"
"Stoick is gone," Spitelout burst out before anyone else could answer. "We all miss him, but we can't let ourselves be prisoners of a dead man's wishes. Does anyone want to challenge me for the job of chief?" No one wanted to. Spitelout's reputation as a fighter was unmatched among the Vikings.
"Is there any reason that I should not become the next chief of this tribe and this village?" He glared at everyone around him. More than a few of them looked unhappy at the thought, but no one objected.
"Then, by popular acclaim, I humbly accept the role of chief of the island of Berk," he said smugly. "Gothi, if you would do the honors, please?"
The town's spiritual leader reluctantly nodded, reached over the edge of the round table into the fire pit, and got her fingers thoroughly smudged. She would use that smudge to make the chief's sign on Spitelout's forehead, formally confirming him in his new role. But before he could kneel in front of her and receive the sign, the doors of the Mead Hall flew open with a bang, and two black dragons burst in, followed by Varinn. They all knew Hiccup by his shortened left hind leg, but only Gobber and a few others recognized the other one as his daughter Six-shooter. Hiccup stormed up to Spitelout with teeth bared, and carved a simple row of runes in the wooden floor with his claw.
I CHALLENGE
He drew out the last stroke of the last rune to make it look like he was pawing the ground, preparing to charge. Spitelout looked nervous, but stood his ground.
"You can't challenge me! You aren't qualified."
I WAS BORN HUMAN, IN BERK,
THE SON OF OUR CHIEF.
I HAVE WON BATTLES AND
LED OTHERS IN BATTLE.
I CAN READ AND WRITE.
I AM MALE. I AM QUALIFIED
Spitelout glanced at Gothi, who shrugged.
"She canna contradict anything he says," Gobber translated. "That means he meets all the qualifications to be our chief. We discussed that on the night Valka came home, it was settled then, and nothin' has changed."
Spitelout turned to the rest of the tribe. "How many of you are willing to follow a dragon as your leader? Stand up if you are!" A few of them stirred, but no one wanted to be the first to stand and draw the ire of the man who might possibly become their chief anyway. No one stood.
"The people are against you," he gloated. Hiccup wrote on the floor again, and Gobber read out loud:
HOW MANY OF YOU PREFER
SPITELOUT'S LEADERSHIP
TO MINE? STAND
Two or three men began to stand, took another look at the dragon, and sat down again.
"The people are undecided," Gobber noted.
"So how do we settle this?" Snotlout asked.
"Draw straws?" Tuffnut suggested.
"Arm-wrestle?" Ruff chimed in.
"A trivia contest?" That was Fishlegs' idea.
"We'll settle it the traditional Viking way," Gobber said firmly. "Single combat."
Now Spitelout looked nervous. "Uhh... can I use my axe?"
IF YOU USE AXE, I USE FIRE.
OR NO AXE AND NO FIRE.
YOU CHOOSE
"You have an unfair advantage either way."
IT'S NOT MY FAULT BEING THE
BIGGEST AND THE STRONGEST.
I DON'T EVEN EXERCISE
As Hiccup finished writing, he turned to his daughter. "Can this be me talking? Hiccup, the biggest and strongest?"
"If you say you used to be skinny and weak, I'll believe you, Dad," Six answered, "but I have a hard time imagining it."
Spitelout hung his head in defeat. "I can't fight you all by myself, dragon." Then he made one last appeal for popular support. "We can't have a dragon for a chief! It's never been done before!"
Six stepped up and wrote her own runes on the floor.
YOU'VE HAD JERKS FOR CHIEFS
BEFORE, RIGHT? MAYBE A DRAGON
WOULD BE AN IMPROVEMENT.
That drew a laugh from the Vikings, and it also turned the last shreds of popular opinion against Spitelout. When Gobber asked again if anyone would follow Hiccup as chief, the entire Hofferson family stood up, and all the Vikings followed, one after another, until the whole tribe was on its feet, except for Spitelout and his family.
Hiccup approached Gothi and bowed his head. She made three black marks on his black head – a long curve, a smaller arc above it, and a vertical line – and stepped back. Varinn was the first to shout, "Long live the chief!" and the others took up the call.
"What are you thinking, Dad?" Six asked over the din.
"I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed," Hiccup answered. "I'm pretty sure Dad would be proud. I know Mom will be, when she hears about it. I never wanted all this responsibility, but if I didn't take it, Spitelout would have gotten it, and that would have been a disaster for Berk. I care too much about these people, not to mention our dragons, to let that happen. So I guess I'm in charge of everything now."
Unknowingly echoing his words, Gobber asked him, "Now that yer in charge o' the whole island, what are yer first orders for us?"
Hiccup thought for a few seconds.
TWO THINGS. WE WILL
ERECT A STANDING STONE
IN MY FATHER'S MEMORY,
AND TOMORROW WILL BE A
FEAST DAY FOR HUMANS
AND DRAGONS ALIKE
Apparently, those were the kinds of things the Vikings wanted to hear from a new chief. They cheered lustily. Spitelout still looked glum and defeated. Hiccup gestured with his head for Varinn to follow him as he approached the head of the Jorgenson clan. He spoke in Forge, and Varinn translated for him.
"He says it would please him if you resumed your role as the town's second-in-command."
That startled the big Viking, but after a moment, he shook his head. "I can't take orders from a dragon."
Hiccup grunted and growled some more. "He says he accepts your decision, but one way or another, you will take orders from a dragon. Gobber, will you continue as Berk's second-in-command?"
"I would be honored," the old smith nodded.
"The chief says you'll have to learn to speak some Forge if you want to keep your position."
"Before we go any further," Spitelout cut in, "where's Agnarr? He used to be the main interpreter for the dragons. I know this Forge language is supposed to be pretty good, but wouldn't a direct translation from dragon to Norse be more accurate?"
Varinn exclaimed, "You didn't hear the news? Agnarr got turned into a Night Fury yesterday, and he's not so good at interpreting any more."
"Another one?!" Spitelout couldn't believe it. He pointed an accusing finger at Hiccup, then pulled it back for fear that the dragon would bite it off. "Are you going to turn us all into Night Furies, one at a time? Are you trying to take over this entire tribe?"
Six spoke briefly in Forge; Varinn translated. "He already has."
Spitelout glanced at Hiccup, alarmed. Hiccup gave him a toothy grin, then wrote:
THERE WON'T BE ANY MAJOR
CHANGES IN HOW WE DO THINGS,
AT LEAST NOT RIGHT AWAY.
BUT I HAVE ONE REQUEST.
WE NEED A BIGGER NEST BUILDING
FOR MY GROWING FAMILY
"How about if we turn two warehouses into dragon houses?" Gobber suggested.
MAKE IT THREE. MAKE ROOM
FOR FUTURE EXPANSION
"Hey, I've got a question," Ruffnut called out. "What are we supposed to call our new chief?"
"Chief Hiccup, of course," her brother snapped.
"But if being a 'hiccup' means being a runt," Fishlegs thought out loud, "then 'Chief Hiccup' is kind of contradictory. You know, like 'jumbo shrimp' or 'small crowd.' The chief of our tribe ought to have a more awesome title than that."
"How about 'Chief Night Fury'?" Edda Hofferson suggested. A low buzz quickly grew to roars of approval.
"Chief Night Fury, he is, then," Gobber nodded, then turned to Hiccup. "Ye dinna mind bein' called that, do ye?" The dragon shook his head 'no.' He was the number-one Night Fury on the island, so it was an accurate title. He made his rounds of the Mead Hall, showing all the Vikings how to accept a wing-tap in lieu of handshakes and other human greetings.
"Dad, now it's my turn to ask a question," Six asked him after the meeting ended. "Are we still going to send Forge teachers to the frozen nest every week? The dragons there don't need Forge to talk to your mother any more."
"No, they don't," he answered thoughtfully, "but we'll still send exchange teams every week. I want to see my mother as often as I can, and it will be good to keep that nest from getting too isolated. They could be easy pickings for the next dragon-hating conqueror who comes along. That would never work against this nest because the Dragon Island nest, and probably the Outcast Island nest as well, would come to our rescue."
"Or not," his daughter corrected him. "We tried to go to the frozen nest's rescue, and nobody except the Night Furies responded."
"True," he nodded. "But there's one more reason. The Bewilderbeast could control a nest of five hundred dragons because he had the mental strength and will power to do it. I don't think Cloudjumper can manage a feat like that, even with Mom's help. That nest is probably going to split into two or three smaller nests within a year or so. Those nests will need leaders, and those leaders will have to be Night Furies like you. I want all the Night Furies to get familiar with the dragons in that nest, and vice-versa, so they'll think of you as friends and not as outsiders when it's time for those new nests to get their Alphas."
Six was impressed, although she was reluctant to admit it. "Do you think of everything, Dad?"
"Not everything," he admitted. "But it's always good to have a plan." They approached the Nest, which was filled to overflowing with Night Furies; the littlest ones had to perch on the roof, and Toothless and Guana rested on ground level, along with an assortment of other dragons.
"Hail to the chief!" Six shouted. "The whole island is under one leader! Dad – I mean New-night-fury has become the chief of the Vikings here, as well as the dragon Alpha!" Roars and puffs of flame greeted that remark.
"That settles it," Toothless said firmly. "Hiccup, I've been threatening to give you a new name for years, and you've fought me all the way, but this time, you can't escape. Dragons, from now on, your Alpha's name is Chief-night-fury, the first dragon ever to rule over dragons and humans!" That set off a chorus of roars and bellows that reached all the way across town; some of the humans were concerned that something was wrong. The dragons were actually roaring, "Speech! Speech!"
Hiccup bounded up to the second floor, took a deep breath, and began. "This is all very embarrassing. I never wanted to lead anybody, but opportunities for leadership just keep finding me, and I can't turn them down because... well, somebody's got to do it. The new name you've given me is ironic, because that's exactly what the Vikings are calling me as well. I can answer to the same name in any language.
"It was always my father's dream for me to become the chief of Berk after him. He meant for me to do it on two legs, but he was willing for me to do it on four, and here I am. But that was never my dream. My dream was to bring dragons and people together. Night-fury-mother-of-twins and I started the process, and now I'm in a perfect position to finish the job. This new position of mine isn't about power and authority; it's going to be about responsibility and a lot of hard work.
"Now, I have a special request for all of you. Tomorrow is going to be a feast day for humans and dragons together –" He had to pause while the dragons roared and stomped their approval. "The Vikings are going to share their food with us, and we're going to share our food with them. Every one of us needs to fly out to sea and catch some of the big fish that the Vikings have trouble catching, especially tuna. The more we bring back, the better we'll all eat tomorrow!" An appeal to a dragon's belly would never fall on deaf ears; the entire flock took wing and spread out across the sea.
The banquet that was spread the next day marked a subtle change in how Berk perceived things. Up until then, the Vikings had viewed their reptilian neighbors as "the dragons who live with us." After they had feasted together, they began to think of the dragons as "us." When Snotlout (who had had a bit too much mead) balanced his horned helmet on Hookfang's head, it was more than a drunken prank. It showed Berk's new reality – the dragons had finally been welcomed into the tribe.
One of the contributing factors was a change that Hiccup had requested. Usually, the Vikings ate in the Mead Hall and the dragons ate from the fish trays. Today, the meals were set on outdoor tables all over the village, and were shared by humans and dragons alike. The Vikings, especially the young ones, discovered that it was great fun to toss a fish in a dragon's general direction and watch him or her lunge to snap it out of the air. The dragons tried to share their meals with the Vikings in true dragon style, but eventually realized that, for some reason, humans don't care for regurgitated fish. Still, this feast served the dual purpose of feeding the village and bonding all of its citizens together.
Some of the half-drunk Vikings noticed a pair of Night Furies flying circles and figure-eights overhead. One of them seemed very unsteady in the air, and had to make numerous corrections to its flight path. "Look!" the Vikings shouted. "The dragons are getting drunk right alongside us!" This provoked much laughter, and several toasts to the dragons, which didn't help the Vikings' sobriety at all.
Agnarr glanced down at them and shook his head in disgust. "That shows how much they know! I've never been drunk a day in my life! Well, maybe once. Full-of-surprises, why am I having so much trouble keeping my flight path steady?"
"It's because you're trying to do it all with your wings," his flight instructor told him. "Your tail is your main source of control in the air, and you aren't using it enough."
Agnarr almost smacked himself in the head with his wing, until he realized that a dragon face-palm would be even worse for his aerial stability. "Two days ago, I didn't even have a tail! I keep forgetting I've got one now. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be."
"Two days ago, all you could do was walk," Full-of-surprises reassured him. "Now, look at you! You're flying! You're a creature of the sky! Yes, you're a little wobbly, but that will fade with practice. Try that left-hand turn again, and remember to use your tail fins."
High overhead, Chief-night-fury circled lazily, watching for any signs of trouble, but mostly just taking in the view. He couldn't help feeling thoughtful about recent events. He'd lost his father, but gained a closer relationship with his mother, who was now totally happy with her life. They'd lost a Night Fury, but gained another one. The Bewilderbeasts were both dead, which might mean the extinction of their species, but Drago Bludvist was also dead, which meant many more dragons would live. How could he make sense of it all? Sometimes it helped to think out loud.
"This is Berk. It was claimed by Vikings, raided by dragons, and now, at last, we're actually getting together. Other people and other dragons keep attacking us. They're relentless and crazy, but I'm starting to think we're even more so. We'd like to be peaceful. But if the chiefs and the conquerors and the aggressors won't let us be, then we have the power to make them regret it. We have flight, and we have fire, and we have an indomitable will. Oh, sure, some of us were hatched from eggs and some of us used to be humans; some were forced into this life and some willingly chose it; but when it's crunch time, we all stand together.
"Because we... are dragons!"
The End
o
A/N
After all these expansions to the initial story, I know better than to say, "This is really the end." You faithful readers wouldn't believe me, anyway. I could get an idea for another expansion tomorrow, and the LightningVerse will just keep on growing.
As I write this, the "Lightning and Death Itself" saga has received over 430,000 hits, over 1100 reviews, 670-plus favorites, and 540-plus follows. I've written two other stories that have reached the six-figure mark in hits, and twelve more that have reached five figures. Does this mean I'm a big deal? No. I'm not the one doing all that reading and reviewing. You, the readers, are the reason this story has such high numbers. I am humbled and grateful for your support.
Someone requested a family tree of the Night Furies. Here's how the clan breaks down; numbers in parentheses are the years after Hiccup and Astrid became Night Furies:
Transformations, etc.:
(0) Toothless transforms Hiccup into New-night-fury and Astrid into Small-night-fury, later Night-fury-mother-of-twins
(1) Astrid transforms Guana into Lady-night-fury
(3) Six transforms Chi-wen, Bi-xi, Pu-lao, and Agmundr (later Night-fury-faithful-brother)
(3) The young Night Furies find Night-fury-ruler, later Night-fury-new-beginning, and bring him back with them
(5) Guana transforms Valka into Stormcutter-was-human. Agmundr transforms Agnarr (no dragon name as of yet)
Hiccup + Astrid:
(1) Young-boy-night-fury, later Bang (Night-fury-makes-one-heck-of-a-bang), and Young-girl-night-fury, later Six (Night-fury-six-shooter)
(2) Night-fury-smallest-girl, later Night-fury-full-of-surprises
(3) Thing One and Thing Two
(5) a boy
Toothless + Guana:
(2) Night-fury-newest-boy, later Night-fury-young-teacher
(3) Night-fury-first-girl
(4) a boy
(5) a boy
Six + Agmundr:
(4) a girl
(5) a girl
Young-teacher + Full-of-surprises:
(4) a girl
(5) a girl and a boy
Pu-lao + Bi-xi:
(4) a boy
(5) a girl