Life with the Night Furies Chapter 18

A/N
Now that the Second Berserker War is over, we will return to the original premise of "Life with the Night Furies" – vignettes of day-to-day life in a Viking village that is learning to get along with dragons as fellow-citizens. This particular vignette is about a special day, rather than day-to-day life, and will take a few chapters to tell. Thank you to arrowlove18 for encouraging me to write this; it's mostly because of you that the next few chapters got written.

o

"For the love of Thor, would you please hold still!"

It was the big day, the day everyone in the village had been waiting for, except Rangi. It was his wedding day. He'd chosen his older brother Varinn to stand with him, he'd somehow gotten through the ceremonial washing at the hands of all the men of the village, and now his sister-in-law Fluffernut was trying to help him get dressed for the ceremony. It shouldn't have been that hard; all he had to do was put on his new clothes, brush his hair, make sure there was no mud on his boots, and then keep himself looking good until the ceremony started. But Rangi was having a world-class attack of pre-wedding jitters, and he couldn't stand still long enough to let Fluff finish adjusting his wedding clothes.

"Just let me fasten your cloak properly!" she almost pleaded with him. "It will take less than five seconds! Honest!"

He was frantically pacing back and forth; she was trying to catch the corner of his cloak as he passed by, but failing every time. She couldn't chase him down because of her bad leg, but he was oblivious to her plight. "What if she isn't as nice as she seems?" he exclaimed, wringing his hands so hard that Varinn feared he might break his own fingers. "What if she's secretly a spy for the Berserkers? I hardly even know this girl! There are so many things that could go wrong!"

Varinn had finally had enough of Rangi's self-induced panic. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and forced him to hold still. "Rangi!" he nearly shouted. "Will you relax?! You're right – she's probably not perfect, because there are no perfect people in this world, and that includes you! I knew Fluff pretty well when I married her, but I still learn new things about her all the time. It's the same with Mom and Dad, and with every other couple who ever got married. You know she's a nice girl, right? Everyone who's met her likes her. You're just afraid of the unknown, and that will pass as soon as you start getting to know her."

"But what if we're all wrong about her?" Rangi pleaded. "What if it's all an act to fool us?"

"Maybe she could fool everyone in the tribe," Varinn said, "but there's no way she could fool a dragon, especially a Night Fury! Our big black friends are very good judges of character. Thing One likes her, so that should be the end of the discussion. As for you, it's okay if you don't know her that well yet, but it's not okay for you to go to your wedding looking like you just swam away from a shipwreck! Now quit your fussing and let Fluff help you get ready!" When Rangi tried to pull away, Varinn tightened his grip. His hands were strong from years of working in the forge, and his younger brother could not escape. "Rangi, if you don't quit it, then I am going to forget that it's your wedding day, I'll remember that I'm your big brother, and I'll start bopping you on the head until you beg for mercy, just like the good old days!"

Rangi visibly deflated after a moment and stood still. Varinn relaxed his grip, then stepped aside so Fluff could finish getting the groom ready for his wedding. He'd chosen a light-blue outfit with a fur-trimmed dark-blue cloak, held in place with a silver clasp that was a gift from Night-fury-mother-of-twins, formerly known as Astrid, his older sister. He looked very distinguished, as a chief's right-hand-man should look on his wedding day. He also looked very nervous, even though he'd gotten the worst of his panic under control. Fluffernut adjusted the cloak, then stepped back to check her handiwork, and frowned.

"It still needs something," she said.

"I wondered about that," Varinn nodded. He reached for a leather bag in the corner and opened it. "This is a gift from Scrubby," he announced as he pulled out a vivid blue Nadder scale, about six inches across. "He just shed it yesterday, so its color hasn't faded yet. I used some forge tools to punch some holes in it, so you can fasten it to his outfit any way you like."

Fluff's face lit up. "That's perfect!" she exclaimed. She grabbed some of the leftover leather thongs she'd used for the groom's new boot laces, threaded them through the holes in the scale, and looped them over Rangi's head and then under the cloak. It hung over his chest like a medallion, its medium-blue color bridging the light blue of the tunic with the dark blue of the cloak. It nearly upstaged the silver cloak clasp.

"Does it make a difference?" Rangi asked.

"Let's ask the experts," Fluff decided. She held the door open, and two huge reptilian heads – one black, one blue – both tried to look inside at once. Scrubby won that contest, gazed at Rangi with one eye, and nodded vigorously.

"Scale looks good," he said in Forge. "You look good. You impress females very much."

"Thanks, Scrubs," Rangi said without enthusiasm (and without saying it in Forge), "but there's only one female I want to impress now, and I don't know if I can do it."

"You will, don't worry," Fluff reassured him as she tried to straighten a wayward lock of his hair. "From what I've heard, she likes you already." Scrubby stepped aside to make room for Night-fury-makes-one-heck-of-a-bang, who nodded and crooned in approval. "You passed the dragons' inspection," Fluff commented.

"Hey!" Rangi burst out. "What is Bang doing here? How many dragons are on guard duty against me, anyway?"

Varinn shrugged. "They're not against you! The chief just wanted to make sure you didn't get nervous and try to run away before the marriage is sealed and the peace treaty is finalized, so he put his son on escort duty. He's not saying he doesn't trust you; it's only a precaution. Scrubby is here only because he wants to be."

"You mean he's here because he wants to be close to Fluff," Rangi corrected him. He was probably right; Scrubby still idolized Fluffernut and was always careful to make sure she was all right, especially now that she was visibly expecting again. Rangi hadn't been planning any kind of escape – he had no plan at all – but somehow, knowing that two dragons were guarding him made his fate seem completely inescapable. So he abandoned all resistance and let Fluff finish her preparations. She brushed his hair back again and pronounced him ready.

"About time," Bang said as they left the house and walked toward the clearing on the outskirts of town. He paused and sniffed the groom. "You smell strange."

"Is because I nervous," Rangi explained in Forge. "Humans get nervous, so they sweat, so they smell."

"Why you nervous?" Bang wondered. "You taking a mate! She pretty, she rich, she like dragons. You should be happy."

"Is complicated," Rangi shrugged as they walked.

"You humans say that a lot," Bang grunted. "You should be like dragons. Eat, sleep, mate, raise young. Not complicated."

"From what I've seen, raising young Night Furies is just as complicated as raising human babies," Rangi retorted. "Besides, you dragons pay a price for keeping things so simple. You don't write sagas, or play musical instruments, or draw pictures, or carve sculptures, or do anything to make the world more beautiful."

"We also not commit mass murders, not start wars, not invent political parties."

"You've got me there," Rangi admitted.

A large crowd was waiting for them at the altar. The groom was the translator and advisor to the chief of Berk, and the bride was the niece of the chief of the Berserkers, so it was a huge social occasion for both tribes. Not only that, but the marriage of Rangi Hofferson and Anya Svenhunddottir would seal the peace treaty between those two tribes and formally end a war that neither of them wanted. Everyone in Berk would be at the wedding, the reception, or both; a few key tradesmen and some trusted babysitters would have to alternate between attending the ceremonies and attending to their duties, but they would still get their chance to celebrate. The Berserkers had brought an unusually large contingent of guests, far more than Viking law and custom required. The two tribes didn't mingle as they waited for the wedding to begin, but that was because they were strangers to each other, not because of any overt hostility.

The guests weren't all human beings, either. Waiting at the center of the clearing with Gothi were Chief Night Fury and his mate, Night-fury-mother-of-twins, who was the groom's sister. Even at a distance, it was easy to see which guest was the bride – she was the only one wearing white – but, as an additional distinguishing mark, she was the only one with a Night Fury next to her. She had tied a wide white ribbon around Thing One's neck in a bow to make her look festive. (The bride had wanted to use a pink ribbon, but the Night Fury firmly rejected that offer, and Anya quickly learned what everyone on Berk already knew – it's no use arguing with a dragon.) It had been hard, convincing her father that a black dragon should be an official member part of her wedding party. She'd finally prevailed when she explained that, if Thing One was excluded from the wedding, she would find her own way to join in, and her own way would probably be unpleasant if not disastrous for the rest of the guests. Night-fury-makes-one-heck-of-a-bang joined the other Night Furies a short distance away, with special instructions to keep an eye on Thing Two, who was watching the proceedings curiously. Most of them had seen human weddings before, but this one was important, which made it special.

As the groom and his assistants approached the ceremonial altar, Thing One extended a paw and wrote in front of the bride,

WHY THAT MAN SMELL WRONG?

Anya had learned only a handful of words in Forge so far, so the Night Furies had to write to communicate with her. Anya glanced at the dragon in surprise; Thing One gestured with her head at a well-dressed Berserker man next to them. As they watched, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"Humans smell that way when they sweat," she whispered in the dragon's ear.

WHY HE SWEAT?
TODAY IS COOL DAY.

"I don't know," she whispered again. "Maybe he's nervous about something, although I can't imagine what. He's not related to –"

She was cut off by a bellow of "Valhalla!" from the man as he drew a long single-edged dagger from inside his cloak and lunged at Rangi. He didn't get two steps before Thing One pounced on him with a bellow of her own, and slammed him to the ground with both forepaws. The man's head hit the ground hard; his fancy helmet saved him from being knocked senseless, but one of the horns broke off from the impact and rolled away. Everyone else backed off in shock as Chief Night Fury and Chief Sigurd the Sociable of the Berserkers stormed over to them.

"What is the meaning of this, Kokopuff?" Sigurd demanded. "You'd dare to harm the groom at my own niece's wedding? Why? Answer me!"

The man tried to answer, but couldn't breathe. "Thing One, ease up on him a little so he can talk," Anya urged her friend. The dragon removed one paw, but kept the other one firmly on the man's back. It was hard to tell because he was lying on his stomach, but it looked like he had lost control of one of his bodily functions.

"Don't take away our glorious eternity," the man gasped. "Valhalla is only for those who die in battle! Peace is for women and children. Let us die fighting our enemies, like men! We don't want to die of old age like girly-men."

"Berk is not our enemy anymore," Sigurd reminded him.

"The dragons and their friends will always be our enemies," the man retorted. He started to say more, but Thing One leaned on him with her paw and he stopped with a wheeze.

Chief Night Fury turned to Rangi. "I hate ask you be my translator on your wedding day, but have to. Tell Spitelout put this man in warehouse with guards until wedding is over so I can deal with him." Rangi relayed the message, but Sigurd held up his hand.

"He's my man, and I'll take responsibility for him."

Grunt, growl, snort. "The chief says, 'Spitelout, take this man wherever Sigurd the Sociable wants him.' "

"Put him on my ship and tie him up," the Berserker chief ordered. "I'll deal with him later tonight." Spitelout, happy for the chance to do something Viking-like in this dragon-dominated village, frog-marched the man away.

Sigurd turned to Chief Night Fury. "I deeply apologize for my man's actions," he began. "I heard some rumblings of discontent among some of my warriors when I announced the peace treaty, but I didn't think it would come to this! At least your daughter stopped the man before he hurt anyone. I promise you, it won't happen again."

Hiccup rumbled and growled. Rangi stepped up and translated. "The chief isn't so sure about that last part, sir. Your man said, 'Let us die fighting our enemies.' It sounds like there's a plot to sabotage my wedding, and there's more than one man involved." Sigurd stroked his beard and nodded slowly.

"I can't even guess who else might be involved," he said. "My men are all committed Berserkers; they love a good fight, but they will obey their chief when I say it's time to stop the fighting. At least, I thought they would. How can I possibly tell which ones are plotting against us? If I ask them to identify themselves, they'll lie about it."

Night-fury-mother-of-twins stepped up and made dragon noises at Rangi, who translated for her. "She says we have a perfect team of lie detectors – the dragons! I overheard Thing One saying to the bride that the man smelled wrong because he was sweating. That's something that any nervous conspirator will do. All we have to do is let the dragons check all the guests with their noses, and we'll find the plotters in no time."

"That's not exactly a normal part of the wedding ceremony." That was Svenhund, the father of the bride.

"Father, please let them do it!" Anya burst out. "I don't want anyone killing my husband on my wedding day! That would totally ruin it!"

Gobber leaned over towards her. "Lassie, do ye think, maybe, ye could rephrase that?"

The bride covered her mouth. "Oh, no. That didn't come out right at all, did it?"

Chief Night Fury chuckled and called to the other Night Furies, who quickly spread out and sniffed everyone who was gathered for the ceremony. The only sweaty person they found was the bridegroom.

"Maybe we were wrong," Sigurd shrugged. "Shall we continue with the ceremony?"

"I guess we have to," Rangi mumbled. For a moment, even the threat of another assassination attempt had seemed preferable to marrying a stranger.