Life with the Night Furies Chapter 17

A/N
I'd meant for the previous chapter to be the end, not just of the "Life with the Night Furies" expansion, but of the whole story. But then the reviewers, almost with one voice, said they loved Rangi's reaction to getting engaged. So I decided I had to expand on that theme a bit. This chapter is mostly fluff, but I think it's good fluff, and there's a lot of it – it might be the longest chapter I've ever written. It returns to the original premise of "Life with the Night Furies," now that Hiccup's latest war is over. The salient point, for those of you who have followed this story for years, is that I can't possibly end it like this.

o

The Berserkers' best longship (actually, it was the only longship they had left) made a slight adjustment to her course. The wind carried her along easily; she would reach her destination in about two hours. That destination was barely visible as a dark-green smudge on the horizon. A man with sharp eyes might see a handful of colorful specks flying above that smudge. But unless he already knew where he was going, he would never recognize the smudge as the island of Berk, or the flying specks as the dragons who shared that island with the Vikings there.

This ship was not on an invasion course, as many Berserker ships had done in the past. Nor was she on a mission of surrender, which was what this ship had done a few weeks ago. No, this war vessel was steering a much happier course. She was bringing the chief of the Berserker tribe and several members of his family to Berk for an important ceremony. It was time for the fathers of Rangi and Anya to meet and work out the terms of their children's marriage contract. That marriage would seal the treaty of peace between the two tribes and officially end the war between them. Both tribal chiefs were looking forward to that with great enthusiasm, as were the fathers.

The prospective bride... not so much.

Anya, daughter of Svenhund, had no objections to getting married, of course. Like all Viking girls from powerful families, she had been raised on the idea that she would probably marry a total stranger from another tribe, because that was how the Vikings did these things. As soon as she turned thirteen, which was old enough for marriage by Viking standards, she expected her father to walk in any day and say, "Congratulations! You're engaged." When her uncle Sigurd ascended to the chieftainship of his tribe, that meant that her own value in the marriage market went up exponentially. Now she wasn't merely someone who needed a husband; now her wedding day would be used to seal some kind of treaty or agreement with another tribe. That meant her future husband would be someone prominent and important, which in turn meant that he could afford to take good care of her. She didn't care much about the trappings of wealth, but the recent wars with Berk had taught her what it meant to be hungry. She didn't ever want to feel those pangs again. A prosperous husband would always put meat on the table.

Now she was fifteen and on her way to meet her husband-to-be for the first time (and the last time until the wedding), and she was having second thoughts. She didn't know much about him. Well, to be honest, she knew practically nothing about him. They said his name was Rangi and that he was connected to the chief's family in some way; that was the good news. The bad news was that she didn't know anything else about the man, and that made her nervous. Now her irritating little brother Skeetrat was doing his best to fill in the gaps in her knowledge, in the worst ways imaginable.

"He'll make fun of the way you look!" he warned her. "He probably won't like your clothes! He'll complain about your cooking for sure!"

"He will not!" she shot back, not very convincingly. She knew she was considered pretty, but while she was well-endowed in terms of her dowry, that was about all. Her clothing was new and clean, but not especially stylish, and her cooking was strictly average.

"And if you say the wrong thing, or cook his food wrong, he'll beat you!" Skeetrat went on, swinging at the air right in front of her face and making her flinch. "He'll kick you with his hobnailed boot!" He aimed a kick at her shins; she expected that and dodged him easily.

"He won't do that!" she protested, and hoped with all her heart that she was right.

"Yes, he will! All Viking husbands do it! And if you really make him mad, he'll lower his horned helmet, and he'll run at you... and he'll gore you!" Skeetrat lowered his bare head and charged for a head-butt at her midsection. She spun aside at the last moment, and he crashed headfirst into the gunwale of the ship. He was a bit slow getting up. "No fair," he whined.

"You got what you deserve, you little troll!" she snapped. "And now I know you're lying! Vikings don't gore anybody with their helmets!" She daintily stepped to the rear of the ship where her father and uncle stood, and heartily hoped that everything else he'd said was as much a lie as the last part.

"Father... my future husband won't be a jerk like my little brother, will he?"

He shook his head and quietly answered, "I wouldn't worry about that, Anya, I don't think anyone could be as much of a –"

"Something's coming! Off the starboard bow!" one of the sailors shouted as he pointed.

"Dragon attack! Dragon attack!" his friend bellowed. Two dark winged shapes were closing in on them quickly. Men all over the ship were pulling axes and hammers off their belts.

"Hold your weapons, please!" Chief Sigurd called over the uproar. "The dragons of Berk won't hurt us unless we hurt them!"

The first sailor turned on him angrily. "The dragons of Berk left my entire family homeless! My cousin has a burn-scar on his arm that will never heal! I'll hold my weapons when Muspelheim freezes over!"

"You will hold your weapons, now, because I said so," Sigurd answered coldly. He was a mild-mannered man, but he could muster a commanding tone of voice when he needed it, and he needed it often these days. Anyone who couldn't intimidate another Viking with his voice wouldn't last five minutes as the chief of a tribe like the Berserkers. The sailor glared at him for the space of two breaths, then angrily hung his axe back on his belt. One by one, all the other Berserkers did likewise. By the time the two dragons overflew the ship, there were no signs of hostility for them to see.

"Father, those dragons look scary," Anya said softly. "What kind are they?"

"I have no idea," he admitted.

"They're Night Furies," Sigurd answered. "One of them might be the chief of the island. No, I think they're both too small to be him, but they're probably his kin." He waved at them. The other sailors stared, open-mouthed, at the dragons that were supposedly so rare that no one had ever seen one. The two black dragons circled the ship twice, had a quick conversation with each other in growls and grunts, and flew back to Berk together. Only when they were gone did everyone relax again.

Anya approached Sigurd. "Sir, is it true that the dragons run everything on Berk?"

"All I know for sure is that their chief is a dragon," Sigurd said. "The other dragons follow his orders, and I think the Vikings do, too. He understands Norse but can't speak it, so he has a human follow him around to translate for him."

"That sounds degrading," she said with a touch of distaste.

"He's more than just a translator, Anya. He's the chief's right-hand man. I get the impression that he has the chief's ear, and his ideas are considered good ones."

"I suppose that's not so bad," she admitted. "Still, I'd hate to be at the beck and call of a dragon! That just seems so... so strange, so un-Viking-like."

"In that case," her father grinned, "how do you feel about being married to a man who's at the beck and call of a dragon?" Her mouth fell open.

"Yes, your Rangi is the dragon chief's translator and helper," Sigurd added. "He's not technically the second-in-command of the island – I believe the chief's mate holds that position – but he's quite prominent in the tribe. That's a remarkable achievement for such a young man."

Anya wasn't so sure that this was a good thing. "If someone spends too much time around dragons, does he get short-tempered like a dragon?"

"You're worrying about nothing," her father tried to reassure her.

"Hey, when you marry the dragon chief's friend, that means you'll have dragons in your house!" Skeetrat taunted her from a safe distance. "They'll eat up all your food! They'll knock stuff over with their tails! They'll sneeze and set your furniture on fire! And I'll bet they aren't even housebroken! You're going to wake up every morning and find a great big steaming pile of –"

"That's enough, Skeetrat!" Svenhund warned him. "She has enough worries on her mind, with her wedding coming up; you don't need to add even more."

"Yes, I do!" the boy exclaimed. "She's a Viking; she's supposed to be tough enough to take it. Besides, it's fun!"

"It's not fun for her, and I said stop it," his father growled. Skeetrat sulked and made his way to the bow of the ship, as far from his father as possible.

"Why did we even bring him along?" Anya asked quietly.

"Your mother isn't feeling well, so I brought your brother with us to give her some rest," Svenhund explained. He loved his son and tried to see the best in him, but Skeetrat made that difficult, especially in the way he treated his sister. "Don't worry – when we get to Berk, he'll have to stay on the ship while we go ashore to work out the contract. You'll get a break from him for a few hours. And, once you're married, you'll get a permanent break from him!"

"That part of being married will be nice," she decided. But she was still nervous about the things her brother had said. Just because a man was prominent or wealthy didn't mean he would be kind or gentle. Many Viking men did insult their wives from time to time, and although wife-beating was universally frowned on, everybody knew it happened sometimes. She wasn't like a lot of Viking women, who were strong enough to take a beating and even give one back. She was petite and slender; her little brother almost outweighed her. Any man she married would surely hold all the cards in the size-and-strength department. If he wanted to beat her, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't even divorce him, like most women would do in that situation, because her marriage was the key to her tribe's treaty of peace with Berk. If she couldn't make her marriage work, her tribe would find itself at war with the tribe that controlled the dragons and had beaten the Berserkers twice already, and the Berserkers would surely cast her out as a result.

For a moment, she almost wished that she had some faith in the gods, so she could pray to them and ask for a good husband. But from what she'd seen, the gods tended to ignore even the most devout people's wishes and just do whatever they pleased. No, this was all about her and her totally-unknown husband who was a servant to a dragon.

She probably wouldn't have much luck learning about him, either. Viking rules for engaged couples were extremely strict. The two of them weren't supposed to have any contact with each other, they emphatically could not be alone together, and violating the rules could be punishable by death. On this trip, she would see him, say "hello," and that would be that. She'd have to learn the rest after they were married, when it was too late to do anything about it.

Berk was getting close. More dragons flew out to circle the ship and appease their curiosity. Anya wasn't going to look afraid if no one else in the ship was afraid, so she mastered her nervousness and tried not to stare at the flying creatures. That part was hard; they were very colorful and came in many shapes and sizes. None of them did anything threatening, but just their presence was threatening to sailors who had seen the dragons destroy ships, houses, and lives in the recent past. Anya wondered if any of those sailors were putting up a brave front like she was.

They were approaching the docks now. One man was waiting for them, with one dragon. The dragon was a big blue Deadly Nadder that turned her head to keep one eye on them. The man was of average height, not especially handsome, with powerful muscles. "Father... is that him?" she asked fearfully.

"I don't think so," he replied absently; he was still focused on the dragons overhead.

The Berk man didn't speak or move until their ship was tied to the docks. Then he stepped forward and addressed them. "Berserkers, welcome to Berk! I am Varinn Hofferson, brother of the groom-to-be, and I've been sent by the chief to greet you and welcome you."

"Is the dragon necessary?" Svenhund called.

"She helps me feel safe when I'm greatly outnumbered," Varinn replied.

"Your chief did tell you why we're here, right?" Sigurd asked as he climbed out of the boat and onto the docks. He held out his hands to show that he carried no weapons.

"He did," the young man said. "He also told me to do whatever it takes to keep this meeting peaceful. Nadder-blue-flies-in-the-storm is here to enforce the peace. She won't harm you unless you make a hostile move against me or herself, so if your intentions are truly peaceful, then none of us has anything to fear." He paused and glanced at Anya. "You must be the lady who's going to marry my brother. He's excited to meet you, I think."

Before Anya could answer, her father spoke. "They won't be allowed to spend any time together, of course; we don't want any hanky-panky before the wedding. They're allowed to see what their future spouse looks like, and that's about all. But this isn't a social meeting. We're here to negotiate the marriage contract."

"Of course," Varinn nodded. "Follow me, please. I'll lead you to the Mead Hall, where the groom, his father, and the chief are waiting to start the negotiations." He and Nadder-blue backed off a few steps. Once the Berserker delegation had left the ship and were standing nervously on the docks, he turned and walked up the ramps, with Nadder-blue right beside him and the Berserkers following at a respectful distance.

"In Berk, the dragons enforce the peace!" Svenhund murmured to Sigurd. "Inconceivable!"

When they arrived at the Mead Hall, Varinn dismissed the Nadder, using her limited Forge vocabulary, then opened the doors. A few Vikings were sitting in one's and two's at tables and benches here and there, enjoying a late breakfast or an early mug of ale. Near the central fire pit, one long table was occupied by a solid-looking Viking, a very nervous-looking young man, and a black dragon who stood by the table instead of sitting. Varinn gestured toward that table, so Sigurd, Svenhund, and Anya crossed the threshold and made their way inside.

"Welcome, noble Berserkers," the man said. "I am Gunnarr Hofferson, father of Varinn Hofferson, the man who greeted you, and of Rangi Hofferson, the man who will marry your lovely young lady." He rested a hand on the young man's shoulder for a moment; Rangi jumped. "This is my son, Rangi, the bridegroom-to-be, and Chief Sigurd has already met Chief Night Fury." The dragon nodded.

"I greet you, Gunnarr Hofferson," Sigurd replied. "This is Svenhund, my brother and the father of Anya, the bride-to-be. Anya, say hello to your future husband."

Anya looked at her future husband for the first time. He was of average proportions, not muscular like his father or his brother. He must have a good-looking mother, she thought, because he didn't get his good looks from his father. He was actually rather handsome, and he had no scars to ruin his appearance. The only thing that did ruin his appearance was the terrified expression on his face, but that faded as he got a good look at her.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Wow!" he blurted out. "Uhh... I mean, uhh... hi." Anya blushed.

Sigurd smiled. "I suppose that means the young man finds her appealing."

Svenhund also smiled, but his smile was more predatory than benevolent. "It actually means we're going to increase the bride-price, if he likes her that much."

Sigurd shook his head. "Remember, Svenhund, we're the defeated ones here. We can't get greedy."

"This isn't about winners and losers, Sigurd! This is about how my daughter is related to a chief, and this Rangi is not. We're completely justified in asking a worthy bride-price from a young man who is marrying up. Any other tribe would pay it gladly if they were in this situation."

Rangi finally found his tongue. "Actually, sir, I am related to the chief."

Sigurd took off his hat so he could scratch his head in puzzlement. "Umm... isn't your chief a dragon?"

"Yes, sir, and I admit, this is very complicated. But my older sister is our chief's mate, which makes me the chief's brother-in-law. If I'm marrying up, it's not by much."

Svenhund looked baffled. "Is this absurd claim true?" he demanded. Both Gunnarr and Chief Night Fury nodded their heads 'yes.'

"For the time being, we'll be polite guests and assume that you're telling us the truth," Sigurd went on. "In any event, I don't think our requests for the bride-price and the morning-gift are out of line, given our situation. But the bride-to-be and the groom-to-be aren't needed for the negotiations. You've met each other; now you both need to make yourselves scarce and stay away from each other. Anya, I'd suggest that you sit at that empty table in the corner, where we can keep an eye on you, and wait until we're done. Gunnarr, I'm sure you have someplace in the village where you can dismiss your son?"

"Yes, but not immediately," Gunnarr replied. "You see, my son is also the chief's interpreter, and we need him here to translate whatever the chief might say."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that." Sigurd thought that over. "Then perhaps we should settle the issues that involve the chiefs first, like the wedding date. Then Chief Night Fury and I can step aside, along with the young man, and Svenhund and Gunnarr can negotiate the rest of the marriage contract themselves."

The dragon grunted once. "The chief says that's acceptable," Rangi said. It took them about fifteen minutes to settle the wedding date and the other details that involved the whole village. Then Sigurd stepped over to the casks of ale and filled a drinking horn for himself. Chief Night Fury and Rangi stepped outside.

"I glad get out of there," Hiccup said firmly. "I not like be indoors. What you think of your mate?"

"Well, she's really, really pretty, and..." Rangi began, and then paused. "That's all I know about her."

"Good marriage need more than just good looks."

"Yes, but how can I find out anything about her?" the young man blurted out. "They won't let me spend any time with her until it's too late! I mean, until we're married and everything."

Hiccup thought quickly. Following the rules had never been his strong suit, especially if a friend was involved. He could understand the Vikings' desire to not allow any scandalous behavior between two people who weren't married yet. But Rangi was a good young man, and how much trouble could he get into in broad daylight? Quite a bit, he realized. But if he was supervised...

"Wait here." Before Rangi could reply, the Night Fury chief had let out a loud honking call, then padded back into the Mead Hall. He approached the bench where Anya was sitting. She cringed at his approach, so he put on his puppy-dog-eyed face and waited until she relaxed somewhat. Then he grunted and gestured with his head toward the doors.

"Father?" she called nervously. "I think it wants me to step outside."

"Maybe he wants to show you the town," Svenhund said distractedly. "He's the chief, so I'm sure it's okay." She rose slowly and followed at a distance as Hiccup led her out of the Hall and around to the side. Rangi was waiting there, along with two half-sized Night Furies who had just landed.

"Hi, again," Anya said, folding her hands behind her back.

"Hi, again," Rangi repeated, turning red and staring at the ground.

"Are we supposed to be alone together like this?" she asked slowly.

Chief Night Fury grunted and growled. "He says we're not alone because he and his two daughters are here with us," Rangi translated. "He has to leave and do some chief things for a while, but his daughters, Thing One and Thing Two, will stay and keep an eye on us. He says we should try to get to know each other a little, while we have the chance." Then the chief leaped into the sky and was soon out of sight. It wasn't until much later that he began to consider what might happen if he entrusted Rangi to a pair of chaperones who were every bit as mischievous as he was.

Anya tried to think of something to say. "Thing One and Thing Two?" she finally blurted out.

"Those are the names they like," Rangi explained, still nervous. "They aren't traditional Night Fury names, but then, these two aren't traditional Night Furies."

"They look identical," she observed. "I think they're the ones who flew out to meet my ship."

"They're identical twins, and they do everything together, especially getting in trouble," he answered, grateful for the chance to talk about something that didn't make him nervous. "The one on the left is Thing One, and the one on the right is Thing Two. I can tell because, when they're together, they always stand with Thing One on the left..." He paused and glared at them. "...unless they're deliberately trying to confuse people, like they do to me sometimes!" The dragons laughed; it was an inhuman sound, but not a scary one. "Also, Thing One usually carries her head a little higher than her sister does. Most people can't tell them apart, but because I work with the dragons so much, I've made it a point to try and learn how to recognize them."

"What's that like?" she wondered. "I mean, working with dragons. Living with dragons. Being around dragons all the time."

Rangi shrugged. "You get used to them. They have personalities, just like people. A lot of them actually like people; they pair off in life-long friendships."

"Have you done that?" she asked.

"No, I can't," he said dismissively. "I have to stay available for the chief whenever he needs me; I can't go flying away on some other dragon." He paused. "But once you're living here, you could do that, if you wanted to."

The mere suggestion took her breath away. Befriend a dragon? Make friends with a creature that might have helped to devastate the Berserker tribe? What would her father say? It wouldn't matter what he says, she decided, because once I'm married and living in Berk, I'll have to live by my husband's rules, not by my father's rules. My husband-to-be likes dragons, and he says I ought to make friends with one. I ought to at least think about it.

Do I want to make friends with a dragon? was her next mental question. What would that mean? She had no idea. "What does it mean to make friends with a dragon?" she finally asked out loud.

"The main thing it means is that you can go flying with them," Rangi answered, as though this impossible dream was something commonplace. "You keep an eye on your dragon's health, you make sure he eats enough, and you teach him how to get along with people. If your dragon friend is a Nadder, you spend a lot of time shining and polishing his scales. If he's a Nightmare, you try to keep him from bullying the smaller dragons. Different breeds have different needs."

"What about if I got involved with that one?" she asked, pointing at Thing Two. The young dragon backed off a step and made a confused sound.

"If you were going to pick a Night Fury as your dragon friend," Rangi thought out loud, "I'd suggest Thing One instead. Thing Two is getting, umm... well, she and Night-fury-chi-wen go flying together a lot, and she doesn't have much time for people. Thing One is more of an introvert in dragon society; she loves crazy flying stunts and playing tricks on people."

"Tricks on people," she repeated. What would that mean? And the moment she asked the question, an answer leaped into her mind. She laughed out loud at the thought, which startled Rangi. "Would she be willing to play a trick on one specific person?" she asked him.

"You can ask her yourself," he said, trying to regain his composure. "They're learning Norse as they grow up; they understand us perfectly. What kind of trick did you have in mind?"

"There's a certain little troll on our longship who needs to be taught a lesson," she said maliciously. He laughed at that. "You don't even know him!" she said crossly. "Why do you think that's funny?"

"Would this little troll happen to be your younger brother?" Rangi smiled.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"My big sister Astrid calls me a little troll all the time, even though she knows I hate it," he said. "It must be a sister thing. Can I help you with this trick that you want to play? It's been a while since I've had that kind of fun."

It took them all of five minutes to make their plans and to communicate them to the two Night Furies, who nodded and grinned toothily at the idea. It took a few more minutes for Rangi to coach Anya in how to mount and hang onto a juvenile Night Fury in flight. Then the two young people and the two young dragons took to the air.

"Is it okay if I don't look down?" she asked nervously.

"Seeing everything from above is one of the best things about flying!" he called back.

She hesitantly opened her eyes... and gasped. She really could see everything! They were a lot higher above the earth than she might have chosen, but close enough that she could easily make out details on the ground. The view was amazing, and mesmerizing. She tried to imagine what her own village would look like from the air. Then she noticed her longship at the docks, and got focused on her little plan.

They flew over the end of Berk, dove almost to sea level, and approached the harbor from the seaward side. Anya whispered directions into Thing One's ear as they closed in on the Berserker longship, swiftly and silently. Skeetrat was sitting on the gunwale in the bow, whittling a piece of wood with his belt seax, unaware that two black dragons were gliding up behind him... until they both roared when they were barely six feet away. He leaped to his feet in panic, spun, fell backwards, and went overboard into the ice-cold harbor. As the sailors threw him ropes and hauled him back in, Thing One and Thing Two pulled up and did mirror-image victory rolls, fast but not quite fast enough to dislodge their riders. Then they leveled off, about a quarter of a mile up.

"That was fun!" she grinned. "I think making friends with a dragon might be a really good idea."

"You and Thing One work well together," Rangi noted. "And she didn't play any tricks on you, so she must like you." The dragon nodded her head and snorted.

"Are you going to get in trouble for this?" she asked him.

"No, I used to do stuff like this all the time," he shrugged. "The chief probably won't even find out about it because it didn't happen to someone from Berk. If he does, he'll figure I had a quick relapse, he'll give me a quick chewing-out for pranking someone from another tribe, and as long as I don't make a habit of it, that will be the end of it. What do you think of flying?"

She relaxed her knees' death-grip on Thing One. "I could get used to it," she said. "But... now that we're kind of alone together, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, I guess," he said, suddenly nervous again.

"Would you... I mean, after we're married, would you ever... beat me?"

"Beat you? Never!" he exclaimed; he sounded hurt by the suggestion. "I used to get in some pretty good fights with my brother when we were younger, but I've never hit anyone smaller than me, and I have never hit a lady. Not even my sister, not even if she deserved it! And I never will. That's a promise. Why? Are you afraid I might treat you badly?"

"I'm afraid of a lot of things," she admitted. "Mostly the unknown. But you seem to be very nice, and now that I've spent a little time with you, you don't seem so unknown anymore."

"Thanks," he said, still nervous. "Now can I ask you something? Would you ever call me a little troll?"

"No, I'd never do that," she said firmly. "My bratty little brother deserves it, but you're going to be my husband, and calling you a name like that would be very disrespectful. I want a happy marriage, and I'd never get one by insulting you."

He shivered. "Isn't it kind of weird, thinking about... being married to someone you don't even know?"

Anya shrugged. "How well do you have to know someone before you feel comfortable marrying them? My mother and my father have been married for almost twenty years, and she says she still learns new things about him now and then. Every Viking has to get married; most of us marry total strangers; and most of our marriages last a lifetime. I guess it has nothing to do with how well you already know them, and everything to do with how well you can get to know them. Yeah, some of the more personal parts of being married make me a little nervous. I figure we'll work those out when the time comes. How about you?"

"Honestly... I'm scared to death. Mostly of the unknown, like you said."

"Believe it or not, I like that," she replied. "It shows that you aren't a cocky know-it-all, like most of the Vikings I've met. When we land, I'll have to thank my father and the chief for picking out a good man for me."

Rangi thought about that. "I suppose the chief and my dad picked out a nice lady for me, too. But I'm still nervous."

When they landed, the others were waiting for them outside the Mead Hall. Chief Night Fury had rejoined them. "Welcome back, love-birds," Sigurd grinned.

"The love-birds went flying together," Gunnarr observed with a trace of a smile. "Did you behave yourselves?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

"If they do say so themselves," Svenhund said in a more threatening tone. "Anya, you know the rules about spending time alone with your fiancée..."

"But we weren't alone!" she protested. "The dragons were our chaperones! They kept an eye on us the whole time!"

"Humph!" he exclaimed. "Dragons don't count the same as people, and you know it."

Hiccup let out a very good copy of Svenhund's humph. "Sir, I think Chief Night Fury takes issue with that statement," Rangi said.

Svenhund thought about that for a second and decided not to press the matter. "In any event, we now have a legal marriage contract, approved by half-a-dozen witnesses," he announced. "The wedding will be in four months, and then you'll live together in Berk."

"Are all the arrangements... arranged?" Rangi asked his father.

"Yes, although we had some rough moments when we were working out the bride-price," Gunnarr nodded. "I've been setting money aside for you ever since you were young, but I wasn't expecting you to get paired off with a chief's niece, and I didn't have enough. You can thank Chief Night Fury for paying the difference. I guess he really wants to see you married."

"I really want peace treaty enforced by your marriage," the chief explained. "You mad, bro?"

"Me? No, I'm not mad. She's... uhh... she's nice. I guess we'll figure out how to be happy together."

"So you're not nervous anymore, son?" Gunnarr smiled.

"Well, I am, a little. But it's like she said – every Viking has to marry somebody. I could have wound up with somebody who's big and unattractive, or loud and rude, or aggressive and mean. Anya isn't any of those things." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Thanks for picking out a good one for me, Dad."

Gunnarr Hofferson chuckled. "I didn't have much to do with choosing her, son. You can thank these two chiefs for that. But I'm glad you're feeling better about things. Now, say goodbye to your fiancée. You'll see her again on your wedding day."

Rangi was about to take her hands and thank her for a really fun morning. But Sigurd, Svenhund, and his father all cleared their throats loudly, and he remembered – hands off. "Uhh... Anya, I'm glad I got to meet you," he stammered. "I guess I'll see you in four months."

She smiled self-consciously. "Will the Night Furies be invited to the wedding?"

"I think we'll have to invite them," he nodded. "Especially if you're going to be friends with Thing One. If you get them into your life and then we don't invite them, they might play some kind of trick on us in the middle of the ceremony."

"Okay. I'll see you in four months. Thank you for helping me understand the dragons better... Rangi." Her father took her by the arm and led her firmly back toward the docks before either of them could say any more.

"I notice that you and your fiancée went flying on some of Berk's dragons," he said, trying to sound casual. "What's up with that? I thought you were afraid of dragons."

"I guess it's like Rangi said. You get used to them," she replied. "Just like I'm going to get used to being married to someone I don't know very well. The dragons turned out to be fine once I got to know them, and Rangi turned out to be kind of nice, too."

"You're talking about dragons and your future husband in the same breath, as if they were similar somehow," he observed.

"Maybe they are," she nodded. "They're both scary when they're unknown, and they're both good once I get to know them a little better."

A dark shadow flitted across them; she glanced up and smiled. "Bye, Thing One! I'll see you in four months! Unless you want to fly down to my village and visit me there. I'll bet we could have some fun there." The Night Fury gurgled, did a quick spin, and looped back toward the village. They stepped off the last ramp and headed down the docks toward their ship.

"I hope you enjoyed your break from your brother's little tricks," Svenhund said. "Now you're going to be stuck on the same ship for two days until we get home, so please try to... what in Thor's name happened to him?" His son was all wet, wrapped in blankets, and visibly shivering. "Skeetrat, you're usually more careful than that! How did you fall in the water?"

"Ask her!" he burst out.

"You didn't push him in, did you?" Svenhund demanded.

"No, Father! I didn't lay a finger on him from the moment I left the ship," she said, wide-eyed and innocent. Getting payback against her brother was even sweeter when she didn't have to lie to get away with it.

"Well, whatever. Try to get along, you two." The sailors took in the lines, ran out their oars, and rowed the ship out of the harbor so their sail could catch the wind. It was nearly half an hour before Skeetrat rose, shuffled over to his sister, and chattered, "I d-d-don't know how you p-p-pulled that off, b-b-but I am g-g-going to make you p-p-pay!"

"I wouldn't if I were you," she said casually. "If you try anything, anything at all, then me and my dragon friend will pay you back triple!" Then she strutted back to the stern of the ship, unafraid.

Everyone in Anya's village agreed that hers was the happiest, most relaxed engagement they'd ever heard of.

THE END

o

A/N
On June 14, 2017, this story passed the 800,000-hit mark. I am actively trying to think of more ways to expand the story, because "the impossible dream" now seems reachable: one million hits.