One would have thought, that such a lengthy day, as Hiccup Haddock had just lived through, composed of fright, wrath, and agony, must have, in final, come to an end, however, that one would have been much in wrong. For that, was just mere hope in the woman's mind, who laying on the mattress, the thickness of rabbit's skin, was in a state of half-sleep, with her eyes open, although it was crushed, once she awaken, at the very sound of an explosion nearby.
With rather difficulty, she managed to bolt toward the entrance of the room, even though her numb legs gave out on her, resulting in an unstable pace, until having reached the door handle, she leaned her body weight on it, before crossing the frame. Behind it, what Hiccup took in sight first, was the flames outside the forge, somewhere around a few meters from it, the group of Vikings fighting with the fire, each maintaining rather a mad expression, but also, capsized pillar, the probable reason for the blaze.
Not being troubled by the crisis much, Hiccup hurried to the deeps of the forge instead, much aware of Gobber who had a stand there already, and took the spot next to him, in a matter of seconds having to handle weaponry. Hence, for the following few hours, not a lot changed, and the woman either simply sharpened, repaired, or even constructed weapons, while each of her fingers acquired new blisters, imprints, and cuts.
As for the existing raid, in summary, it wasn't any different than the others - quite a deafening cacophony of roars and outcries, laced with the vistas of bloody soil, quarrels of everlasting enemies, and pure, vivid flames. Into such a view, mentioned lastly, Hiccup gaped currently, her eyes reflecting the deadly force of nature on them, until having enough, as her orbs dried bitterlyt, she shut them, pressing her fingers into her eyelids.
Only after a while, she opened them back, and just then, they locked on the sight, which was further beyond the war ground, where its placement had been a half-destroyed, barely standing, grand catapult tower. Although it shouldn't have much power over the woman, at the very view, Hiccup was stunned, wasn't much aware of anything beyond the tower, and on her mind appeared one, rather disturbing, worrisome thought.
Will he attend a raid? she questioned herself, and although the actuality of that occurring wasn't very likely, although the chances were rather by zero, the likelihood wasn't null, and that itself drove the woman mad. Ultimately, what brought her back to reality was the grindstone, against which she'd grated the entire sword's blade, but also, which had nearly ground her fingers, luckily, she'd reacted before that could've happened.
Rather fiercely flinching back, she'd stood dazed, for the span of a moment, before she took the decision, and having checked for Gobber's presence, also the amount of work she'd done - the baskets of flawless weaponry - she bolted out. The woman couldn't comprehend her decisions then, as if she'd mistaken common sense with an act of folly, as if she wasn't sure, whether she was correct or not, however, one was certain - she couldn't leave him just be, she couldn't allow herself for that mistake itself.
Hence, she ran, through the roads of the village, crammed with Vikings exhorting her to return, through the war ground itself, not taking any heed over the soaring blades and blasts, and through the forest, overgrowth to the extremely irksome point. It would've been rather bizarre, wherever Hiccup wouldn't topple at least once, that's why she did numerous times, to the point where her aching bones started opposing her, until appearing on the place.
The cove hadn't altered much, if not at all, however, the reason for that could've been the rather poor visibility, brought by the darkness of the night, thus, she didn't pester with looking around, and moved to her target, discernable at once. Hiccup glimpsed him seated by the tree, pine more precisely, having his back leaned against it, whilst in his hand she caught sight of that cursed book, which he seemed to read, notwithstanding the dim around.
At that point, she'd felt guilty, intensely she could say, for the matter of quitting her people on their own; that was, of course, until he spoke. "I'm beginning to doubt, whenever you hate me so much since you visit me so often," he acknowledged, the smirk debuting on his face, at once.
"Ain't even think of gettin' any wron' ideas," she replied, slowly approaching him. "I came here to keep an eye on ya."
"Keep an eye on me?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes at her as he lowered the book. "What for?"
"To prevent ya from doin' anythin' stupid, takin' a part in the raid, for instance," she explained, when standing just over him crossing her arms, as he did only lifted his brow. "What?"
"Not that I'm not pleased by the visit itself," he started, leaning his forearms on his bent knee, whilst the woman rolled her eyes, and continued, "but, from what I recognize, I'm sitting here, rather than attending the raid."
"Maybe, maybe," she affirmed, her fingers curled around her forearms, although proceeded with the theme, "However, how may I be sure, ye're not goin' to join later?"
At once, he bestowed her with the gaze, that she could only define for confusion, before he promised, "I won't attend the raid," his expression turning stern.
Regardless of his pledge, Hiccup wasn't much convinced, because, as a response, she'd only bored her eyes at him, and revealed, "I ain't trust ya," with a rather serious tone of voice.
"Right, how could I forget," he muttered and gazed away, rather indifferent. "Alright then, have a seat," he advised, his hands, at once, finding their way to the back of his neck, as he leaned on them, while these were pressed into the tree's bark. "We'll spend here, a while."
Not arguing with him much, Hiccup listened, and within a matter of seconds, drew nearer and sat by the opposing piece of pine, the way, that their backs were separated by the rather broad timber of potentially impressive age. As time had been slowly passing by, neither of them dared to reach out - the man being much more interested in the book, whilst the woman stared somewhere upward, into the depth of flowered cave-in, either the clouded sky.
It was at some point, that, sighing, the man dropped the lecture to the footing, before shifting himself nearer the woman, and asking, "Honestly now, what are you doing here, for real?" gazing at her, curious.
Merely only had she glanced at him, remarking, "I am bein' honest," and returned her gape at the ahead.
"No, you're not, but that's rather a standard, by now," he noted, his eyes set on her, continually. "So?"
"Think whatever ya'd like to," she commenced, lifting her chin, "but I'm not sayin' anythin'."
"Since you're allowing me," he concluded, sending a grin at her, before, himself, gazing onward him. "What I think of, are two cases."
"I'll regret askin'," she mumbled to herself, and resumed, "What are those two cases?"
"Well, as for me, either you'd come here because you're fond of me," he implied, not much surprised when peeking at the woman, she had her eyes squinted, ironically, "either you'd taken the first opportunity, to get out of there, not much thinking of consequences."
"Either, I'd done what I already told ya," she remarked, her hands squeezing her bent knees to redness, "at least that's how 'd be if ya'd kindly believed me."
"I don't do that," he pointed out, as his eyes locked on the sky and his smirk brightened. "What I believe in, is truth, and the idea of you, arriving here to keep an eye on me, is far from being it. Besides, how can I believe that, when I know, that you know, that I wouldn't attend the raid."
"I ain't-,"
"You ain't trust me, I know," he interrupted, rather fiercely, to be exact, "however, that's not even the matter of trust, but the matter of common sense. That's practically not worthwhile for me, to just break my vowes, when my freedom is at stake, my only and dearest desire. What for, would I risk that?" he clarified, and turned his entire body to her, his face overtaken by baffle. "We both know this, why then come here, and lie about that?"
After he raised that question, the woman never really answered it, barely gazing at him, her eyes betraying feelings that he couldn't quite read, before she lessened them to the ground, as if defeated, humiliated. As for him, his eyes never really left her, whilst the owner, not moving an inch, as if not even breathing for a fact, stared at her, attempting to guess her thoughts, normally exposed - today hidden beneath fake certainty.
"I don't enjoy that war either, if you have to know," he confessed, out of a sudden, much to the woman's surprise, who ricocheted at him, perplexed. "All that bloodshed, the death of innocent beings, from my side and yours, notwithstanding whose guilt, it's much sickening, downright disgusting," he proclaimed, staring in between the gap of his bent knees. "Although I'm not appearing very compassionate, for the concern of raids, I am."
"My ass," she countered, and snickered, once glimpsing his closed-up expression. "Do ya really expect me to believe that?"
"Believe in whatever you'd like," he replied, shrugging, "just remember, that there was a rationale, for why Vikings were about to call me extinct, after five years of absence."
"Ye've just got to know everythin', ain't ya?"
"Absolutely everything," he stated, grinning widely, "however, I don't know you. I don't understand you."
"What's here to understand?"
"Surprisingly, a lot," he admitted, and their eyes, at last, met. "For unknown reasons, you're maintaining a gentle appearance, regardless of how the others treat you. Furthermore, you're disguising your fury with sarcasm, what itself must be fatiguing, and why? Apparently, because of one man, but did you really manage to survive with such a way of living, how much, sixteen years of a lifetime, just for him?"
"I am twenty, wiseass," she corrected, unable to resist the smile, and narrowed her eyes at him, mysteriously. "How much ye're pissed, 'cause ye're can't figure me out?"
"Very, fucking, much."
"In that case, I'll remain an enigma, for my own pleasure."
"And who's the asshole, now?" he spotted, whilst Hiccup's giggle, which resulted from it, surrounded the cove.
The rest of the night, after their rather talk, went by without any major events, without any issues, as the quietness and stillness, unfamiliar for the Vikings' kin, swathed them, to the point, where being swallowed by the exhaustion, the woman fell asleep. As for the man, he'd been awake the entire time, astounded when having noticed, throughout the odd silence, that Hiccup was consciously absent, and for that matter, once more picked up his book, and read, fixated.
In the relentless course of time, at some point, having been restless about the boredom, also the knowledge of the other presence nearby, even if so unconscious, at once, the man stood up, the book vanishing somewhere in the depths of the cove, after being thrown. The words, although intangible, messed his head, stirred it achingly, to such an extent that he must have massaged his forehead with his fingers, so as to soothe his mind, however, the effects of that, shockingly, were not as effective as hearing a rustle of leaves was.
Out of a sudden, he pivoted toward the source of the sound, not much surprised when ahead of his eyes appeared the woman, continuously motionless, although for some reason, in another position than previously. Not having much other to do, he approached her figure and, for a duration of a minute, stayed at a standstill over it, until having enough, he crouched, as his eyes locked on her - on the loose face, on the breathing chest, on the flexed legs, on everything.
For whatsoever excuse, the first, that caught his eye, was her cheek of irritated skin against the lumber, strangely mashed, connected to the rest of her face, presently overshadowed by the darkness, depriving it of any details. Subsequently, his gaze reduced to her chest, which raised rather periodically, further to her waist, overridden by her loose forearm, until halting at her hands, coiled by the bent knees, at the footing.
Wasn't that much of a marvel for him, having detected all of these flaws, like blisters and redness, however, what captivated his exclusive curiousness, was imprints of her own nails, at the very skin of hers. These were of various lengths and shapes, each retaining a history of when made, although only known by the woman, yet the man himself was rather interested in them, in why they'd even existed.
Ultimately, jaded by the lack of answers, also the inability to ask for them, he was about to stand up if it wasn't for the rash blow of the wind, which not only provoked a shiver down his spine but also troubled the woman, because she trembled, uncomfortably. Hence that change of position, he recognized, and upon starring at her for a while more, although not very willing for that at first, he gathered himself up, and rather groaning vexed, organized a few branches from the soil.
As he was done, and his arms were outright hurting after having to carry the weight of that dry wood, just off Hiccup, he stacked the sticks in rather a cone, much similar to one that he'd once witnessed the woman make. After a time, that he'd spent attempting to light the fire, irritably reacting to each fail, he managed, although once the heat wrapped his face, furthermore he gazed at the drowsy woman, he rolled his eyes, aware of the comments she'd make.
A while yet, he'd watched the bursting blazes, before, once more, looming toward the woman, without much mortification staring at her, analyzing each of her attributes, especially if illuminated by the warm glimmer. With a rather precision, he'd goggled at the uneven, bushy bangs of auburn hair, the myriad freckles, spread around her whole body, the rather wide, buttoned nose, oddly lengthy jaw, and these eyelids, covering the dark, green eyes.
Tilting his head to the side, he'd hoped to glimpse them from underneath these, although haven't seen much, other than the quite short eyelashes, and dark eyebags, which he wasn't incredibly surprised by. Ultimately, after viewing everything, including her yellow tunic with the leather ornaments, also the same material belt encircling her waist, and massive, brown boots packed with sheep cotton, he left her alone, at last.
Subsequently, he'd himself returned to his previous seating, leaning on the bark, whose ridges were, once again, stabbing his back, although in contrast to taking the book back, or actually even searching for her, he gazed upward, at, though slight, rupture of clouds, where the stars glimmered, bright.
It hadn't been quite a morning, not even an early one, but rather the dawn with a frigid breeze, reddish blue shaded sky, and quietness, interrupted only by the chirping of birds and whistle of the cold wind. Right then, the man, having rather a bright smirk, his arms crossed on the chest, and tilted head, gaped at the frontwards, more precisely, towards the downright, right off the majestic pine's roots.
There, in the midst of lush grass, not very bothered by his presence, although the rationale for this could've been her unawareness, laying was Hiccup, continually sleeping, even being bold enough to smile throughout her slumber. Kind of adorable, the man thought, the grin never slipping his face, his eyes locked on her, until upon having enough, much bored by her stillness, without any warning, either tenderness, spilled the full bucket of water on her.
"Good morning, freckles," he greeted when seeing her leap out of her previous position, her chest moving violently. "The sun's up, so should you."
Not with much she responded, only glaring at him, her face not only flooded by water but also rage, and rasped, "The fuckin' bastard," with her arms lifted, as her clothing was dripping.
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before," he replied, with rather a satisfaction eyeing her stand up, whilst she threw her arms, detaching the wet fabric from her skin. "Now, go away. I'm off to sleep, myself."
Squeezing her braid, thus getting rid of the excess water out of her hair, also glimpsing him yawn, she asked, "Why ya'd not slept at night?" with her brows knitted, baffled.
"Unlike certain, I'm not much of a night sleeper," he clarified, although once not seeing the end of the woman's confusion, added, pointing at himself, "Night Fury, the creature of the night, remember?"
"I tend to forget, alas ye're to remind," she tsked, hugging herself when being under the influence of frosty wind. "If that's so, then ye're sleepin' in the day?"
"I sleep whenever I'd like to, and I'd like to now, without your bullshit over my head," he stated, his eyes narrowed at her as he finished, "Just get out of here, for sake."
Thereafter, he transformed himself, replacing the once-beige skin with sleek, black scales, and before long, ahead of Hiccup's eyes emerged the black dragon, the same from the days before, spreading his wings rather proudly. Sooner than later, he approached the grand oak, being not far from them, whilst the woman surveyed each, even the subtlest, movement of the majestic male, confounded observing his attempts of scaling the tree.
Rather fastly, he'd achieved the goal, attentively sustaining his eyes on the unstable branch, on which he walked, cautiously taking every further step, until halting, when his entire body had a stand at it. Subsequently, he secured his tail around the timber, sort of looping it, and without much effort, hung himself upside-down, similarly to give the bat would, although once being done, glimpsing the woman, being just off, he questioned, annoyed.
"You're still here?"
"I'll go," she replied, however, he'd not even taken his eyes off her, when she added, "May I, though, ask ya somethin'?"
"If for that means you'll leave me alone," he responded, folding his wings, as if crossing them around himself, "then go ahead."
"Be honest, please," she asked, her fingers stroking each one. "When I was asleep have ya," she paused to turn her head away, avoiding his wary eyes, and continued, "have ya gone for the raid?"
"Are you asking that, for real?" he inquired, although didn't expect her to answer, and answered, "If I really wanted to go, I'd have gone, even with you around. It's not as if you could've stopped me."
"Right," she agreed, her face overtaken by the very much fake smile before she sighed, "I'll leave ya alone, now."
Afterward, she turned around, with the intention of walking away, although haven't made even one step, when he spoke out, "Don't feel guilty for fleeing from the raid, even if because of egocentric reasons," his expression oddly hardened until he shattered it by smirking and adding, "After all, it's not like anybody has noticed your absence."
In response, rather than being offended, the woman beamed at him, and affirmed, "Right," before walking off, because, although the words were vicious, the outcome, which was her feelings, was far from harmed.