The beginning of the week came sooner than expected. Stoick and Hiccup stood near the docks, watching as the Berserker ship pulled into the harbor. The little Berkian was a bundle of nerves and his father was truthfully not much better. If something went wrong while Hiccup was away, Stoick knew he would never be able to forgive himself. He let out a quiet sigh when the ship docked and the ramp lowered. Oswald waved down to the father and son. Behind him, Dagur was frowning and had his arms crossed. They disembarked, then stopped. It was the crossing point. One son would go further towards the village whereas the other would approach the ship.

Hiccup looked up at his father, silently asking if there was a way to suddenly call off the plan. Gently, Stoick put a hand on his shoulder. It nearly took up the boy's whole body. The chief thought of so many things he wanted to say to bring comfort or simply let the child know he would be missed.

"Be good," is what he wound up saying, not knowing why this had been his final decision for words.

The boy glumly nodded and went towards the dock. He hesitated when he saw Dagur's frown move to him. It looked like a cross between angry and threatening. Dagur was warning him with his eyes. The smaller boy was not to replace him.

"Dagur," Oswald said, a scolding tone to his voice.

Huffing, the Berserker went past the other boy. When he did, Hiccup went closer to Oswald. The man was a lot taller than he was, but he was smaller than those on Berk. This at least would not force him to have a stiff neck every day. Oswald had an excited smile on his face. It was friendly and put Hiccup somewhat at ease. Arms still crossed, Dagur marched up to Stoick. He had to tilt his head back to look at the giant. The boy did not enjoy that. It made him feel small. Stoick looked at him, trying to decide what he would do next. Already, the Berserker seemed like he was in a foul mood. Stoick realized Oswald must have noticed his hesitation because he was quick to speak.

"I'll send letters every week," he promised.

"I'll do the same," Stoick informed him.

Oswald moved so that Hiccup could go up the ramp. Unsurely, the boy boarded. He did not really enjoy being on ships. Everything on them was so large. He could not look out like everyone else could, so he was normally stuck looking at the mast and helm if he wanted to watch anything besides the inner side of the ship. To his surprise, Hiccup saw a stool pushed near one side. Oswald raised the ramp again so that they could set sail. When he noticed where Hiccup's attention was, he smiled.

"I love looking out at the sea when I sail. I thought you might as well. I'll just ask that you hold on for safety reasons."

"Thanks," Hiccup said quietly.

The boy climbed up and looked over the edge. This was the first time he had been able to see the water without being on someone's shoulders.

"Is it a long voyage to Berserker Island?" he asked.

"I don't think it's too long. It's only a few hours. I was hoping we could talk while we traveled."

Hiccup turned away from the waves to see him. He started to become doubtful. Hardly anyone ever wanted to talk with him.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Your interests. Your father told me that you enjoy working in the forge."

"I do, but it normally doesn't end well."

"Maybe we could change that. Have you ever considered making new creations?"

Hiccup paused, uncertain how he wanted to answer. It seemed like a trap. Everyone thought inventing was strange when he should have been spending his time in warrior training. Still, Oswald looked like he was asking with sincerity.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I've come up with a few ideas, but I haven't tried making them yet. Gobber's always busy fixing and making new weapons, so I don't have much time."

"Then, would you be up for trying that during your stay?"

"Could I?"

"Of course. I want you to feel welcomed there."

Hiccup started feeling a little less nervous and nodded. He did not really know what else to say and felt awkward, so he was glad that Oswald did not mind the silence. It was peaceful to be out on the open seas. Hearing the waves was the only sound they needed. On Berk, Stoick found himself still wondering what to do.

"No sharp objects," he thought, trying to mentally recite the warnings Oswald had given.

"Am I going to kill a dragon while I'm here?" Dagur asked, frown not having left his face for a mere second.

"Well, Oswald was right that he would mention it," the father thought. "You can, but we don't have any right now to kill."

"So, what else is there to do?" the boy questioned.

Dagur already felt like he was going to be bored. There would be nothing to keep him busy. His sole activity would be waiting for dragons to attack. A groan was on its way out of him.

"What do you like to do?"

The smaller redhead's eyes widened for a moment. That was a question he was unaccustomed to hearing.

"I like fighting," he said.

Dagur had a lot of things he enjoyed doing, but he doubted most would interest the chief, so that was probably the best one to share. Stoick thought over this, then nodded.

"Let's see what you can do. You and I can spar."

"Really?" Dagur asked, squinting skeptically.

It was probably a setup. Stoick would just try to mock his form–though it was not as if his form was anything other than flawless. Still, some type of insult would have to result from this interaction.

"Normally, Gobber is in charge of things like that, but I've taken care of business around the island this morning, so I have time."

After a moment, Dagur nodded. "Fine, I guess that wouldn't be awful."

"Then, let's start," Stoick said, gesturing towards the training area.

The smaller redhead went by him, regarding the chief with a suspicious gaze. Later that day, Oswald and Hiccup docked at Berserker Island. The boy felt anxiety coursing through him.

"What if I end up getting crushed in a stampede of Berserkers?" he wondered, grimacing at the thought.

Oswald lowered the ramp, glancing at the Berkian before going all the way down.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." Hiccup added under his breath, "I'm just going to be surrounded by lunatic Vikings for Thor knows how long. Why wouldn't I be alright?"

The chief heard the boy, but he said nothing as they went down to the docks. Hiccup stood where he was, worriedly awaiting the swarm of Vikings to approach. Yet, they did not. It did not even seem like anyone noticed he was there. It was not in a cold way. The Berkian was not being ignored, but he was also not being pointed or sneered at by anyone. One Berserker came over whereas the rest offered polite nods of their heads to the returned chief. The approaching man gave a warm smile to them both.

"Hello, Chief. I see it went well."

"Very well. Hiccup," Oswald, turning to the small Viking, "this is Herald. He's the general of my armada. You'll also see Captain Vorg around here, but it looks like he's busy at the moment."

"Should I go get him?" Herald asked.

Oswald shook his head. "That's not necessary. Hiccup and I were going to spend the day in the forge."

With a nod of his head, Herald stepped back and made way for the pair to continue through the island. Hiccup's eyes moved to the people around them. The numbers were so much larger than on Berk. Somehow, despite this, it was far quieter. He felt like he was in a state of shock and Oswald chuckled at his wide eyes.

"You seem a little surprised, lad."

"I guess I just expected more…" Hiccup paused, searching for a word that would not offend the man.

"Berserk tendencies?"

Cringing a little, the boy reluctantly nodded. "Yeah. Sorry if that's rude."

"I wouldn't think it's impolite for you to assume a group of people who call themselves 'Berserkers' would warrant that title."

"If you don't, why are you called that?"

Oswald put a hand to his beard as he thought over this. "That's a question I've often had myself. I suppose it's one of those traditions that have existed for so long, you don't know the origin. Now, it is probably just easier to continue being called that than to try to get the entire Archipelago to remember a new name we select for ourselves."

"Maybe some traditions should still change," Hiccup mentioned.

"Maybe they should."

They kept walking for a little while longer. The Berkian noticed that Oswald's strides were not long so as to accommodate for his own short ones. When they reached the forge, Hiccup's jaw dropped at how large it was. Everything on Berserker Island seemed to be ten times the size as it was on Berk. The shop had ten anvils, four fireplaces, and more tools than Hiccup had seen in his life.

"Gobber would love this place," he said in awe.

"It seems like he might not be the only one."

Hiccup nodded his head and felt lost on where to start. He realized he was taking a while and tried to hurry up and decide.

"There's no rush," Oswald assured him, sitting down on a bench. "I had planned on doing this all day if you wanted."

It seemed too good to be true, but the chief did not look like he was telling a lie. Hiccup went over and saw the materials.

"Could we start with a sword?"

"I don't see why not." Oswald gave a sheepish grin. "Now, I'm no blacksmith, so I hope you don't need me to offer much as far as guidance goes."

Hiccup felt his nerves come back. He had never done something like that without Gobber. The blond had years of experience, so the idea of doing it alone was daunting. Oswald saw how he tensed up and rose from the stool.

"I remember the first time I led a voyage out to a new land. I'd gone on plenty with my uncle as a boy, but he didn't go with me that time since I was going to become chief soon. What helped was remembering the things he'd said. It even surprised me how much I reinforced what I had learned since I had to teach some of the other Berserkers with me who hadn't gone before."

The Berkian slowly nodded, taking the advice. He thought back to everything he had done with Gobber in the past.

"Okay, we should start with the aprons," he suggested.

Oswald went and grabbed two, including one that Hiccup knew had been made with him in mind since it was so tiny. The Berkian checked the items nearby, making sure they had what was necessary. It looked like they had everything and then a few items on top of that.

"Should we make a sword like the others you have or do you want something different?" the boy asked.

"How about something unique," Oswald recommended. "This will be your first sword made on Berserker Island. It can be special to mark the occasion."

The idea of making an especially unique creation thrilled the Berkian, but he still did not want to get too excited. Any minute, there would be something that went wrong and Oswald would not want to do this anymore. Quickly, Hiccup began drawing out ideas. The chief watched, then pointed to the hilt of the drawn sword.

"This part should be a little shorter so that it keeps the user's hand in the perfect place without it sliding back and forth."

Hiccup made the adjustment, scribbling in the edit. After a few more minutes, the duo had an agreed upon design.

"What's next?" Oswald asked.

The Berkian went and found some tongs. "We'll need to heat the steel until it turns yellow. Afterwards, we'll be able to shape it how we'd like."

Oswald began to feel worried and tried to not have it show.

"The amount of steel we'd need for this would weigh more than Hiccup does," he thought, turning a little pale. "He might melt himself along with it." Aloud, the chief asked, "Do you want me to do that part?"

Hiccup paused, looking at the fire. The last time he had insisted that Gobber let him do it, he had lost his grip with the tongs and the steel fell onto the floor. He nearly lit the entire place on fire. That might not have been the best way to start this experiment.

"Could you do it?" he asked.

The question was asked so pitifully that Oswald stopped to think. "What if we both did it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since this is a new type of weapon for us both, it probably won't be perfect the first time. We might be able to master it more if we start with a smaller one–a prototype of sorts. So, if you yellow the steel for the first one, I'll yellow it for the official weapon."

Eyes twinkling, Hiccup agreed to the plan. He carefully used the tongs to grab a tinier bit of steel and went towards the fire with Oswald nearby in case something went wrong.

"How long have you wanted to invent?" the man asked.

Hiccup peeked up at him, afraid to look away from the metal for too long. "For a few years now."

"After we finish the swords, want to work on that?"

Now, Hiccup was sure that he was living in an alternative archipelago. Still, he decided to play along and agree. Once the steel was the right color, the Berkian put it on an anvil. Before Hiccup even had to ask, Oswald gave him a hammer.

"Thanks," he said, slightly shocked. "Now, we'll have to shape it into the sword." He began feeling a little discouraged. "It always takes me forever to hammer steel," he thought. "We'll be here all day and he'll get bored."

"I've never hammered steel," Oswald admitted, looking curious. "It's always interested me. Would you be able to give me some suggestions?"

"Yeah!" Hiccup said quickly, relieved to have been saved from the embarrassment. "I can definitely do that."

The chief closely listened to the young blacksmith's advice. Once all lumps were gone, Oswald made the blade flat and even on both sides.

"Now, we have to heat it again to normalize the steel."

The Berserker nodded and stepped away so that Hiccup could get the new sword with the tongs again. When he was done, he set it back on the anvil.

"We'll just have to do that two more times after it cools off," Hiccup informed the man.

Oswald smiled and it was one that the Berkian was unfamiliar with seeing. He looked impressed.

"You really know your way around a blacksmith shop," he complimented.

"Thanks. I didn't think we'd be working on anything like this while I was here."

"Then, I'm happy to have surprised you." Oswald glanced upwards, thinking. "I planned for this part of the day more than the evening, but I can also tell you that Berserker Island has some of the best cooks in the Archipelago. Admittedly, I could be a little biased, though I still think you'll enjoy the meal. What would you want them to make?"

"It doesn't really matter to me," the boy admitted.

"Do you like lamb stew?"

Hiccup nodded and the chief smiled.

"Then, I'll let them know. By the time we're done here, it should be prepared."

The Berkian looked back at the anvil with the resting sword and then at the chief again.

"Maybe this won't be as bad as I expected," he thought.

For the remainder of the daylight hours (and some of the night), the pair remained by the forge, working on their new creation. Long before the sun had set, the other half of their experiment was entering the dragon killing arena. Dagur's eyes quickly darted from reptile to reptile. He started going over to a Gronckle who was in a pen.

"Hold on," Stoick said, getting the boy to stop.

Dagur frowned. "But there's a dragon. Shouldn't I kill it?"

"We use those to train with. When a dragon raid begins, you can kill those."

The redhead doubted he was telling the truth. People often found it easy to lie to him and believe he would not notice. Dagur was sure that the chief would be the same, but he still watched as Stoick went over to a pile of weapons. He found an ax that was almost dull due to its near constant use. Deciding that would work, he turned to the Berserker.

"Catch," he instructed, tossing the weapon.

Dagur caught it and his face began lighting up. "I get to use this?"

Stoick nodded. "It's been used a lot, so it should be sa…"

The chief trailed off as he saw the younger Viking take out a sharpening stone. He quickly filed the blade to a point again. Stoick wondered if he should have asked him to not do that, but the boy finished with the weapon before he could make up his mind.

"Okay, what now?" Dagur asked.

Brow raising slightly, the Berkian regarded him in confusion. "We'll have the normal spar rules." He noticed as an uncertain look briefly flashed in the boy's eyes. "Have you been in a spar before?"

"Just once," Dagur revealed. "I don't think I followed those rules right…whatever they are. The other guy was unconscious for a week."

"A whole week?" Stoick asked, shocked.

The boy nodded and a smile came to the Berkian's face.

"Impressive."

This put a matching smile on Dagur. "We go until one of us is out cold then?"

Stoick shook his head. "That might be a little extreme for a casual spar. On Berk, our main spar rules are that we don't do any lasting damage, so no lost limbs or anything. We'll go for as long as our endurance allows and use the weapons here, so that'll include everything in the pile."

The Berserker's eyes seemed to twinkle more with every passing second. Stoick was about to tell Dagur what the signal would be to begin, but since he had already stopped talking, the boy assumed that meant it was time to start. The Berkian quickly blocked an attack with his own ax. Dagur knew he would lose if he had the spar be based solely off strength, so he used his speed to his advantage. He was faster than Stoick anticipated and the man felt as the handle of the ax hit the back of his right knee. The boy was stronger than he expected too. The impact sent him forward slightly. That was when he heard a laugh. It sounded thrilled and bizarre. To Stoick's surprise, he found it mildly contagious.

Dagur was not the only fast one and had to parry several blows that had been delivered in succession. It was difficult to keep a strong hold on his weapon since the force behind the attacks was so powerful. Right as he felt he would lose the ax, he jumped over Stoick's arm. The Berkian's head tilted up as the Berserker leapt onto his shoulder. A devious smirk crossed his face when he thought he was about to be in the optimal position to begin a Berserker choke hold. Dagur let out a yelp when Stoick changed tactics on him. The Berkian decide to fall. It was like a tree crashing down and made Dagur lose his grip before he could even fully get one. Stoick adjusted so that he would pin the other Viking down. This proved to be tricky. The Berserker seemed more slippery than a fish.

The younger redhead squirmed free and emerged with a proud grin. Naturally, a laugh followed and one also came from the chief. Stoick quickly got to his feet and back in a fighting stance. They continued like this for a while and both enjoyed the feeling of adrenaline rushing through them. Stoick started wondering how Dagur was not getting tired. He was not tired yet either, but he had seen plenty of younger Vikings try to spar against their parents and grow fatigued because of how much larger their opponent was. The size difference alone made Stoick expect the spar to end quickly. That was why he had changed the rules from rounds concluding when someone hit the ground first. Such a rule in this situation seemed unfair. Yet, he was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong about that. The arena had a third Viking in it before the first two stopped.

Gobber entered and chuckled at the sight of the pair wrestling around on the ground. Going over to one of the dragon pens, he hit the cage. This did not get their attention, but when a Deadly Nadder let out a loud screech, that got them to pause long enough to cover their ears.

"Oh, hello, Gobber," Stoick greeted. "Did you just come in here?"

"Pretty much. I was going to check on you two, but I guess it's going fine," the man said, looking at the boy who had gone over to the weapon pile again to see what else he could find while his opponent was distracted. "You might want to stop him."

Stoick turned to see what Dagur was doing. "Though I commend your fighting spirit, we probably should call it a night."

Somewhat reluctantly, the boy put down a mace. "Okay." He started brightening up again. "This was fun!"

"I enjoyed it too," the chief admitted. "Do Berserkers rarely get tired out in fights?"

Dagur shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see many of them fighting anybody. They're boring. What about Berkians?"

"It depends on the Viking. Gobber could probably fight all day unless it's against me."

Gobber pretended to look offended. "If you weren't the chief…"

"That's just what you have to tell yourself," the largest redhead said, winking.

The friends laughed and Dagur watched them. It seemed peculiar. No one on Berserker Island talked like that. It would have probably caused someone to get their feelings hurt, then leave in a sour mood. The fact that Berkians could talk freely without anyone getting upset was interesting.

"Since you're both fine, I'm going to head back to the forge," Gobber said, waving goodbye to the Berserker.

Dagur said goodbye back, then felt boredom plucking at his insides. He frowned at himself.

"You can't be bored already," he thought. "We just finished sparring. Okay, apparently you can be bored, but you shouldn't."

"Are you hungry?" Stoick asked, noticing the pensive frown on the boy's face.

Glancing up, the Berserker nodded. "I guess so."

"Then, let's make dinner."

"Let's make it or let's have someone else make it?"

"The first one," Stoick clarified. "You don't cook often on Berserker Island?"

"Dad isn't very good at it, so I cook or one of the cooks makes the meal."

"Well, we don't have enough Vikings here for some to have their roles be cooks. What do you like making?"

"Anything really."

"How does roasted yak sound?"

"Good to me! Are we going to kill one of those now?"

Stoick had planned on using one of the yaks which had been stored to stay fresh, but the Berserker's grin was so hopeful. Since they had not experienced any dragon attacks, he supposed that they could be down one more yak without it causing any trouble. He had been the one to suggest it after all.

"We could do that."

Dagur laughed again in excitement and eagerly followed Stoick off to the barn. Once the deed was done, they sliced up the meat. Stoick could tell that the boy had cooked a lot. He knew to do most of the prep work without being told anything. The only time he had to stop was when they got a section in the preparation that was unique to Berk.

"We normally rub it with dill," Stoick told him, handing over some of the green herbs.

The younger redhead looked at the item in fascination. "This doesn't grow back home."

"It's pretty popular here. I hope you enjoy it."

They put the yak legs on a spit to rotate around a fire. As they waited, Dagur started taking out a knife and sharpening it. Stoick was surprised, then he recalled what he had read in the letter.

"You had that during the spar?"

"I always have these."

"'These?' How many?"

A devilish smile spread over the boy's face. "No one will ever know but me. I'll give you a hint, though. Over a dozen."

Stoick wondered how that was possible, but he could tell by the confident glimmer in the boy's eyes that it was the truth.

"Why didn't you use any during the spar?"

"We agreed to use the weapons in the pile. Using these would've been cheating." Dagur frowned at the ground. "I hate cheaters."

The Berserker's frown faded when he saw that the meat was ready, but he quickly began to feel worried. Eating. He had not been there for a feast on Berk. The only thing he hated as much as cheating was smacking. Dagur did not reach for the yak, contemplating ways to get out of eating with Stoick if he was loud.

"Are you going to try it?" Stoick asked, taking a bite.

With wide eyes, the Berserker realized that most of the yak was already gone and he had not heard a single obnoxious sound. Happily, he took a yak leg for himself and began to eat as well.

"Ooh! This is good!" he said, chomping in joy.

Stoick smiled as they continued the meal. The Berkian began to fill the time with stories of battles he had experienced during his time as chief. Dagur was regaled with each tale. The thought in his mind surprised him.

"Maybe being here for a bit won't suck that badly."