Chapter 2: Snoggletog
After what felt like an endless Winter season, the holidays had finally arrived on Berk. Not with a bang, however, but with a whimper. The morale around town had been extremely diminished since the Screaming Death's attack on the island, and most of those who didn't have Arkyn on their minds were still rattled by visions of the terrorizer's threatening attempt at destruction. To the reluctance of many of the villagers and the relief of a few others looking to start moving on, the show still had to continue, and the celebrations planned for that evening began as they were originally scheduled.
It started just the same as every other party, except not really…
People started arriving just before sunset, but rather than trotting up to the magnificent doors of the Great Hall like normal, they shuffled solemnly in small groups, making it past the greeters with a feeble nod in lieu of a joyful anecdote or salutation. The crack group of musicians played their melodies noticeably quieter than in the past, passion seemingly leaving them on hold that night. The dance floor was sparse. The barrels of mead were uncharacteristically slow to empty, and even when they did, the Vikings only drank to forget how shaken they were, not to become the life of the party. It was one of the worst Snoggletogs any of them could remember, save for the one that was held after the year Valka was lost.
5 of the 6 dragon riders tied their companions down outside, agreeing to meet at the gathering well after it had gotten dark. They eventually made their way inside and sheltered themselves at their usual spot in the back, not exactly knowing what to do with themselves. Of course Astrid hadn't shown. They'd all been hoping that she would, but in reality none of them were really sure what they'd been expecting to happen. There was absolutely no chance in Helheim the girl would show her face within 500 paces of that structure on a night like Snoggletog, no matter how much her friends wanted to see her again. It just wasn't happening.
"Well? Happy Snoggletog, everybody…" Ruffnut said sarcastically, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Ugh, please don't start, Ruff." Hiccup sighed. He was just as disappointed as the rest of them, but he at least wanted to try finding a lighter subject to discuss this time around. "Maybe this can be a good thing…"
"I don't think so." Replied Tuffnut, gesturing around to the other Vikings in the crowd. "And I don't see anybody else who thinks so, either."
Hiccup frowned. "Why can't tonight be the night we start to look forward?"
"It's too soon." Fishlegs said quickly. "It just…doesn't feel right yet."
"Arkyn…he sort of had bad timing." Snotlout added. This earned him a scowl or two from the others, but nobody opened their mouths to argue with him. There was some truth to his words.
"I just don't like this." The Haddock pleaded his case. "It just feels…awful. Why can't we try to at least have a good time? The 5 of us? Like we used to?"
"Because there used to be 7 of us." Ruffnut countered in a stale tone, her memories of Hiccup's spoken 'good times' all depicting more people than their present posse.
This allowed another pause to interrupt the teens, and it would last until they all traveled to the refreshments table to fill their flasks with mead, unable to come up with any other activity that satisfied everyone involved.
As was tradition, the Chief and his council all sat at their large table at the front of the hall, which was placed atop a short stage so that they were easier to view during town meetings. Very little conversation passed between the men, all of them finding themselves in a similar predicament as the riders. They ate their portions of the Snoggletog feast in relative silence.
It was just after they'd all cleared their plates that Spitelout leaned towards Stoick from the left, noticing the crestfallen expression on the man and initiating a new topic.
"You know, it's almost time for that big speech you give every year- the one about how great our harvest was and how peaceful life is on Berk now that the raids are over."
"No it's not." Stoick replied, not even bothering to look at his friend.
"Pardon?"
"There'll be no speech." The Chief reaffirmed in a gravelly voice.
Spitelout looked confused. "Well, why not, Stoick? Look at all these people…they need something to hold onto."
"There's nothin' to celebrate." He looked down at his empty plate. "And the raids aren't even over, we only think they are. All that's changed is the species of the dragons who threaten us…like Screaming Deaths…"
"Oh come on, mate. You can't still be letting Arkyn ruin this holiday for the whole village? Our year has been more than just his death."
Stoick whipped his head around and stared daggers at the man sitting next to him, his words becoming far more emphatic. "All of our years would be over right now if it weren't for his death. Do you see his face in the crowd tonight?" It was a rhetorical question.
"Well, no, but he didn't go and sacrifice himself to save us, Stoick. He sacrificed himself to save himself. Surely you've realized that by now. We both know that's the easiest way to escape your pain." Spitelout argued.
"Even if that's true, how does tha' make it any better? If anything, it only means we could have done more to protect him."
"It wasn't your job, Stoick." Spitelout was beginning to seethe. He didn't see the loss as such a big deal. "You were not his gods damned father!"
"But I was his Chief!" Stoick yelled, loud enough to catch the attention of the Vikings standing closer to his table. "I should have been more responsible for that lad when I had the chance."
"And done what?"
"Anything…" The man sighed. "Anything aside from encouraging him to keep fighting Berk's battles when he wasn't ready to be done fighting his own…"
"Since when do you care so much? I hardly remember you checking up on him after he moved into his own home." Spitelout asked, cocking his head. "Berk's battles aren't what got him killed. You know where he came from…he died on the same day as his parents and was only carried along by his body until we were attacked a few days ago. Besides…" He dropped his voice. "The lad wasn't even Berkian. Giving him a funeral was a stretch in itself. What in our tradition says we owe him anything else?"
Stoick abruptly stood up, using every ounce of his composure not to explode in front of the whole hall. He pointed to the steps leading down from the stage. "Leave my table. Now, Spitelout, before I make you leave." The Chief huffed. "Arkyn was every bit as Berkian as you are, if not more so."
Spitelout stared up at the mountain of a man, chilled to his core by Stoick's intimidating demeanor. He slowly got to his feet and raised his hands as if to apologize before stepping away. "Happy Snoggletog, Stoick The Vast. Sorry I touched a nerve." He whispered at last very cynically, and then he was gone, disappearing into the large crowd.
Berk's Chief remained standing there for a brief moment while he collected his thoughts, only sitting again once he'd calmed himself down. It would take all of his strength to avoid relieving his anger on someone who didn't deserve it, but he would manage. He supposed it simply wasn't his night. Another voice, this one to his right, eventually brought him back to full consciousness.
"Spitelout giving you a hard time again?" It was Riftan.
"When is he not?" Stoick sighed. The two men were at odds a lot, but he'd kept Spitelout on his council all these years because the Viking was good at balancing him out. Even beneath all of their arguments, they'd been friends from a young age, just like their sons.
"Don't let him get to you. You're worth far more than he is." The Hofferson reasoned.
There was a pause as Stoick glanced at the man, pondering his counterpart's current position. "How's it been for you? Everything ok at home?" He asked.
Riftan looked down at his folded hands, expressionless as always. "Yeah." He replied in an idle tone, not normally one to willingly spill his familial drama. "Things will sort themselves out soon enough, I'm sure…"
Stoick frowned. He'd always been good at seeing through his friend's mask and immediately knew this wasn't the whole story. Gesturing to his son and the other riders in the back of the hall, he continued. "I see Astrid didn't show tonight. It's a shame, truly…Hiccup tells me everybody really misses her."
Riftan's eyes flicked up at the mention of Hiccup's name, but it went unnoticed. "We tried, Stoick. Freya and I both."
"Aye." The Chief nodded. "But I know you raised her to be strong, Riftan. She'll come to terms with things on her own if you let her."
"I'm not so worried about her, Stoick. I'm worried about her future."
"How d'ya mean?"
"I always feared that Astrid's wish to waste her talents and become a shield maiden would fester as she got older. Arkyn, as frustrating of a choice as he was for her, still managed to distract her from such a fate. Now that she's lost him, I'm left waiting to see if she'll revert to her old aspirations in the absence of someone else to live for."
"I see…" Stoick replied quietly, furrowing his brow.
"My daughter will be 16 in less than a week. It has almost come time for her to decide her path in life. Without the hope of a partner, her mind will almost certainly lead her to throw away all of the potential I've helped her build over the years. I want something better for her, and I want something better for the village…"
"Any father would." The large man related. "I can understand her apprehension to choose something like entering Berk's ranks, however. Fighting hasn't gotten her anywhere nice recently."
"I feel so foolish." Riftan begrudgingly exhaled.
"Why's that?"
"I trained her for years to kill dragons in the hopes she would grow into a warrior, but the kinds of dragons I trained her to kill? We don't even fight them anymore, and the dragons we have to be worried about in today's age are beyond anything even I've been prepared for. I've wasted her time…"
"Nonsense." Stoick asserted. "You cultivated one of the finest young lasses this island has ever seen. Everybody knows she's going to do great things someday- already has, really. Dragon riding is a hell of a skill."
The blonde man hesitated slightly. "I suppose it is. I have your son to thank for that."
"Oh please, if you're talking about being worried over someone's future, just look at me! I'm not sure Hiccup will ever find a Chieftess…I might have to go looking around other islands for that poor soul."
"The situation can't be that dire, can it? He's the future Chief of Berk…I'm surprised you've never had people lining up outside your front door."
"He knows I'm proud of him, but between you and me, have ye looked at him recently? There's just not that much there to see." The man chuckled lightheartedly. "You have no idea how surprised I was when Astrid kissed him all those months ago…I thought it wouldn't happen 'till I was dead and buried."
"If only it had stuck." Riftan said under his breath. "I wouldn't be in such a predicament right now…"
"Just be happy your daughter found someone to love her." Stoick remarked, trying to make Riftan a little more appreciative despite knowing how Hiccup felt about that whole situation.
"Someone to love her? Arkyn abandoned her…"
"Oh don't you start on this too. He hardly had a choice. Astrid's still young…she's got plenty of time to figure things out."
"I sure as hell hope so, but I wish she'd do that sooner rather than later."
"Listen, Riftan, I understand things aren't easy right now. Not for you, and especially not for your daughter. If your family ever needs anything, just know that you can come to me. I'm more than willing to make it happen."
Astrid's father shot a side glance at Stoick and gave a small nod, hoping he would keep to his promise if/when the time came. Even so, Riftan wasn't normally one to take handouts from anyone, not even the Chief. "I'll be in touch." He said, rising to his feet. "I'm going to call it early tonight. I need to take a plate of food back home for Astrid or she won't have any dinner tonight…"
"Ah, of course." Stoick encouraged. "Help yourself! I'll see you soon."
They shared a quick handshake, and soon after only the Chief, Hoark, and Gobber remained at the table. The rest of the council had evidently left early too, finding the holiday celebrations hollow under the present circumstances. It would be just after midnight when the Great Hall fully emptied out, an uncharacteristically modest time for Snoggletog festivities, with most of the villagers exiting towards their homes not joyously drunk, but numb knowing they had to enter the new year with little to look forward to.
As for the teens, they all went their separate ways, each flying home asking themselves when their missing piece would resurface, and if she would even still be the same person when she did.