I DO NOT OWN HTTYD OR LOTR. -Gabenator5

CHAPTER FIVE:

The ground trembled beneath his immense claws, the groaning of the earth a sound he had long grown accustomed to. He stood at the entrance of his mighty refuge, his hidden world, watching as the lands above slowly sank into the churning waters, swallowed by the restless seas. The Archipelago, once a place teeming with life, was now doomed—its time had come, like an old dragon molting its ancient scales. The molten core of the world had stirred, restless beneath its fragile crust, and soon all that lay before him would be consumed by the fires of rebirth.

Long had it been since he had last stepped forth from his slumber, since the light of the sun had touched his stone and crystal scales. Not since the last cataclysm, and now it was a new one that summoned him from his deep rest, for the refuge was his responsibility to protect—until at last the end came, whenever the maker of things determined that would be.

He had seen it before, time and time again. Fire from the stars, fire from the earth, ice from the ends of the world creeping across the lands as the world was remade. Yet ever the great refuge remained. It had weathered each change of the land since the very earliest of days. Not even the judgment of water on all the world had snuffed it out, nor had the breaking apart of the lands into their many parts crumbled its vast halls. Shifted and molded into a new form? Yes. Destroyed? Nay. He and his lesser cousins had shored it up.

As they shored it up even now once again.

The ancient dragon, whose name none now remembered but who had known countless turns of the moon, had long felt the coming deep shift in the bones of the earth. His massive eyes, that had witnessed uncounted centuries, narrowed as he sent forth a great rumbling call, one that echoed across the sky and into the winds, reaching the minds of all his kin. Far and near, beyond even the rim of the horizon, the call did appear. It was not words as humans would know them, but a message clear as the scent of rain on the wind—/Flee/. Those who had not yet sought the refuge of the Deep Hollow must do so now or face oblivion in the cataclysm to come. The lesser ones, who were too distant—the land-flyers and sea-swimmers—scattered to the far reaches at his bidding, their wings a flurry against the darkening sky as the waters rose and the land fell, while the fires boiled beneath them.

Not all would come and prostrate themselves before him, scrambling beneath his mighty bulk to enter the last refuge of scaled kind. For the distance was far too great for many. Yet enough there would be to ensure that the scales of each line would not fade into time, as the great sea beasts and land-walking scaled cousins had faded away in his youth. It would be enough. The maker did not intend the end of his kind yet—likely, for some future purpose, they would have a part to play.

Others would take note and heed the meddler's call, rather than his own, as some already had. Perhaps even some of the inheritors would flee with them to a refuge in that other creation. Who could tell? He did not begrudge them their need to take the meddler's gate; all in its vicinity were too distant from the refuge to find solace before the great shift began in earnest. For these small rumblings and boiling seas were but a foretelling of what was to come. A great upheaval it would be, not seen since the breaking of the world into its pieces.

Far beneath the earth, in the hidden sanctum of the world, his lesser kin labored in their quiet, tireless way. The great ice-shapers, the massive ones with tusks like spears, worked under his silent command, fortifying the walls of the refuge. They did not see the world as he did, nor did they know its heartbeat as deeply. But they understood survival, and they knew that the refuge, carved into the very marrow of the earth, must hold. Their ice was not the brittle frost of the surface, but a substance as hard as stone, layered thick upon the walls of the sanctuary. Where the ice could not reach or be trusted to hold, they shaped stone, bending it to their will, reinforcing the deep caverns where the younger dragons would hibernate in the newly come cold, their breath slowed, their hunger for food dulled.

He alone stayed above, on the rim of the world's fall, watching the land shake and crack as the molten fury of the earthen rebirth pushed ever closer. His gaze swept across the far horizon, seeking the last of the wanderers. There would be no mercy when the world finally shed its skin. He knew this, had seen it before. Some few would not heed his call, would fight against the flow of time as foolish hatchlings. But they would learn, as all must, that the changing of the world was as inevitable as the molting of a scale. And like all cycles, what was lost would be reborn, though perhaps not in their time.

He had been made to consume the very riches of the earth when he hungered, to live and witness all of creation from the dawn of time until its end. Principalities and powers feared disturbing his rest. His time would not end until time itself came to an end. None now remembered his name, but the first of the inheritors of the world had named him, as he had gone on to name all things that lived beneath the sun and beneath the earth and within the sea. Kur-igi.né.è he had been named—First of dragons, the witness of creation and all that would come after until creation's end. To behold the making and unmaking of the world was the purpose of his existence upon this earth.

That, and to seal the great entry to the refuge below the sea, beneath the earth. Whenever such mighty cataclysms came.

Below, the lesser ones prepared for the long darkness. Their alphas, each to their own kind, barked commands, instructing the lesser scales to sleep, to let the world pass over them as they waited out the great shift. They would emerge when the fires were gone, when the sea calmed and the air no longer carried the taste of ash. He would not join them in slumber, for his place was here, watching the world turn once more. His scales, black as the deepest sea, shimmered faintly in the fiery light, and his breath was a low, steady rumble—a sound older than the mountains themselves.

He, the eldest, would bear witness.

He would plug the door to the scaled domain with his bulk and be buried beneath the boiling seas as he had done before. He would continue to listen to the breadth and width of the rumbling of the world as the noise of creation moved ever forward to its eventual end. When the precipice for the final upheaval came, the door would be shut. And the refuge would once more remain when all else above was at an end.

/FLEE/

The Titanic creature of earth and stone with scales of crystal and eyes like fire filled diamonds larger than any longship she had ever sailed glared at her from beyond the horizon, its eyes gazing at her from the sky as its bulk was hidden from view by the very curving of the world. It began to sink into the earth as the ocean raged and the land cracked and the very foundations of the world split as the islands she loved sank with it.

/FLEE/

It spoke and its eyes focused unerringly upon her and her alone.

/FIND THE GATE. FLEE/

The Badmist mountains suddenly loomed up behind her like some beast about to pounce upon its prey.

/FIND THE GATE. OR PERISH/

And the world broke asunder as Berk exploded.

Acting Chieftess Astrid Haddock woke up screaming.

Along with every dragon on Berk.

It was yet still a far-off time before the sun would arise, and the courtyard before the shattered mead hall had a low fire burning as the few night watchers and some others partook of a very early breakfast. Valka had been here, prepping for her morning search for her son, when the great pandemonium had arrived. Cloudjumper had perked up and turned his head east, his eyes dilating, ears, and the fins connected to his crest vibrating at a low hum, as her dragon had heard what only dragons could hear. He had done such before when a distant noise or a faraway dragon's call had gained his notice, and she had thought nothing of it at first. She should have taken more notice, for in her exhaustion, she had forgotten that when an alpha called from far away, her dragon would also act this way.

She was promptly shaken from her exhaustion and interrupted from her meal by her dragon gouging clawed lines into the cobbled stone of the courtyard and warbling in great distress. He stared at her with eyes filled with a fear and a terror she did not understand—although she desperately wanted to, needed to even. For all of Berk was now ringing with dragon cries, and the cacophony was so loud it could wake the dead. The dragon cries were soon joined by human ones as the village awoke, and the Hooligans strove to calm their scaly companions from their panic. Children old enough to ride found themselves hoisted into their saddles by their dragons, and their parents were forced to intervene lest the beasts abscond with the young ones in haste.

Not all succeeded, and the children would find themselves forced to calm their beasts while in the air and ask them to land again. The dragon pens were the worst of it: beasts broke into the saddle storage, making away with saddles and riding bags to go find their caretakers and demand an immediate departure. Beasts with no paired rider fled the village, heading into the Badmist mountains. The night watchers' nightmares spewed fire into the sky in angered frustration, both at the noise and that their riders would not depart with them right this minute. Couldn't the stupid, lovable two-legs hear? Danger was near!

Flee! All must flee or forever be dead beneath the boiling sea!

The wild dragons on the island were screaming a cacophony greater than any in the village; Valka had never heard such a stirring of the flocks before. Great flocks rose from the sea cliffs, the coastal forests, and the low cliffs inland, all flying upwards and inwards to the Badmist, streaming towards the tallest of their peaks. Breathing fire all the way, they ensured she could see them in the darkness from the village of Berk far below the tallest mountain of the archipelago. She had finally calmed the dragons in the square, and the village was starting to become somewhat orderly in managing this crisis when, as if to add insult to injury, the ground began to shake.

The cries continued to sound from the wild dragons overhead and from afar, but the more domesticated of their kin fell into silence as they shivered in fear. The shaking grew worse before petering out as the ground once more seemed still, but Valka noted her dragon's tail still shook—a sign that the ground also still shook, just not in a way she could feel. The ripples in the mugs on the long tables confirmed it.

After such an event, no one was going back to sleep, and the village of Berk's day started a few hours early for once. People flooded into the square, yelling demands, asking for help, looking for dragons and younger children who might not have returned yet—although most had. Valka did her best to quell the roaring crowd of frustrated Vikings. Frustrated, not scared; the stubborn fools would never admit to being scared. When her good daughter stormed through the crowd like hot metal through a thin piece of ice, she grabbed Valka by the edge of her flight suit, staring into her eyes with a controlled fear Valka had never seen in Astrid's eyes before.

"Forget the caves. Find the old shrine, be there at sun's first light, and tell me what you see from afar. Do not get close. Go and come back and tell me all you see. Go now," she said—no, ordered—in a forced, calm, and even tone.

Valka had never been spoken to by her good daughter this way before. Something was off. Aside from her missing husband, Astrid was terrified in a way she had never seen before. What did she know or suspect that the others didn't? What knowledge of the world had Hiccup told her that made her so afraid now when she had managed so well before? She did not question the order and did not ask her questions, for appearing to challenge her good daughter's authority before practically the whole village was not what was needed to keep Berk from falling into chaos.

She and the search party immediately mounted their dragons and went, hearing Astrid set about organizing the village and ordering the food stores ready to be moved on short notice as they flew away.

Elara Hofferson woke up to her window shattering. At eight years old, the young girl was the youngest of the few members of the Hooligan tribe to bond with a Timberjack. She had been wearing her riding gear to sleep ever since her dragon had refused to let anyone take off his saddle, whereas before, she had struggled mightily to get him into one. It was a good thing on her part, as her large dragon crammed his head through the busted second-story window from the backside of her house and bit down on her riding leathers to drag her out of her bed and the building as gently and quickly as he could.

Whilst warbling in distress the entire way.

"Slicer! No! We just rebuilt the house!" she called out, but it was to no avail. Her Timberjack nimbly set her in the saddle and grabbed the saddlebags she had prepped just in case they were needed when the faraway fire mountain had exploded two days prior. A Hofferson must always be prepared for the worst, and she had done her best to be ready for anything when the dragons had become restless. Still, this current behavior was unprecedented.

Both her parents were on night watch, so she didn't have them present to help calm Slicer, and she was rather worried about how he was acting. He was scared, very scared. Which meant that she was also very scared. The only thing that she wasn't afraid of, that Slicer was, was eels. Anything other than eels that scared her dragon scared her. It was smart, it was wise, and according to her parents, such an attitude would gain her a long life.

If Slicer was scared of something she couldn't see or hear, then it was probably a good idea to let him handle staying safe for the both of them until she could grasp whatever it was that had him in a tizzy. Along with all the other dragons, if the deafening noise was any indicator.

So when Slicer took off into the sky, she didn't think to stop him or attempt to calm him down in order to return; rather, she flew with him, her heart beating fast in her chest as her large companion beat his wings rapidly into the night sky, heading up and inland. Not even five minutes into their sudden flight, Elara could hear the island start grumbling.

Another ground quake. Was that what Slicer had feared? No, he had not acted in this way with the ground quakes before. What was he so scared of? What were all the dragons breathing fire in the sky as they flew around them so afraid of?

What was she so afraid of?

She did not know, so she flew and let her large, winged dragon lead the way as she looked every which way to find and understand the danger.

To return to Berk and ignore the dragons did not even cross her mind; such was the trust she had in Slicer. Thus, a girl and her dragon flew into the predawn night.

"Elara! Help!" she heard from above and saw the shape of a Gronckle in the dark with a small, kicking shadow hanging from its mouth as the wild dragons in the distance continued to spout flame in their panic. She knew that voice. It was Lykner Ingers. Little Lyk was five years old and lived four doors down from her family's place in one of the village circles, which would make the Gronckle old lazy Led-Boiler. Lyk was too young yet to ride alone, but he had certainly built a rapport with the lazy smithy dragon.

Lazy no more, it would seem. Not only was Led Boiler carrying the boy by the scruff of his jacket, she was also flying fast enough to keep up with Elara's Timberjack.

"Oi! Led Boiler! Here, girl! Give him to me and Slicer. Come on!" she called as Slicer and she flew up and underneath the little boy and rapidly tiring Gronckle. The old Gronckle gladly dropped the five-year-old into Elara's lap before falling behind as Slicer surged ahead in the group of dragons that had inadvertently joined together in the sky as they headed in the same general direction.

"You ok, Lyk?!" she called out as she helped him strap in by tying a loose leather cord from her saddle around his waist so he wouldn't fall off so easily. The boy was shaking in fear as he clung desperately to one of Slicer's spines in front of the saddle.

"I think I wet myself," he stated in a shaky voice she could barely hear over the howling wind, before he shouted back in a louder tone. "Boiler grabbed me when I stepped outside to go take a leaker, then the noise started! What's going on? Are Modder and Fadder flying too?" he yelled back in a trembling voice.

"No! I think it's just us, at least this far out. There might be more of us flying here in the dark, and we wouldn't know it, but aside from you, I can only hear dragons right now," she told him.

"Where are the dragons all going? And why are they going there?" the boy cried back.

"That's what I am going to find out. Slicer knows something, and I trust Slicer!" she stated.

Higher and inland, the dragons flew, and steady and surely the tallest mountain peak slid into view.

Elara had never flown there before, but it seemed to be where they were headed. With a mighty cry, Slicer leveled off his upward direction and started accelerating forward in earnest.

"Hang on, Lyk!" she cried as her Timberjack sliced the very wind with his sharpness and speed as he did his best to flee the danger, a danger which his rider could not see, and deliver her and the other little one unto safety. Even as the first pink light of dawn touched upon the smoke laden horizon.

Valka's keen eyes had spotted the pair not long after dawn's first rays appeared in the distant eastern sky. She knew the Hofferson couple on the night-watch shift had a girl who had bonded with a Timberjack during the winter months, but for the life of her, she could not remember the child's name. She had been a cousin of Astrid's and would have been placed under Valka's and Cloudjumper's instruction at the academy rider school in a year or so as a forestry and tracking specialist in the making.

She would have to scold the girl severely for leaving the village this way during a crisis; even from here at such a distance, she could see that her Timberjack was not running amok. That flight was controlled, and the little Hofferson was letting the dragon lead the way when she could easily take her beast in hand and return to the village. The four other members of the search party had been meant to check the caves below the mountain peak while Valka checked the old Norse shrine on the top of the peak, but those plans had changed when the rogue child had been spotted on her mount among a pack of dragons.

She was gaining on the child, slow yet sure, but it seemed that the girl would reach the mountain before they could fly alongside. Gods, that Timberjack was fast; she could hear the wind being sheared apart from here, and she was not yet close enough to shout at the miscreant astride the Sharp-Class's back.

They were approaching the peak now, and Valka found herself forced to look past the girl flying into likely danger and focus on the spiral of dragons around the mountain peak. They flew in swirling, twisting flocks, a half dozen in a group or so in most cases, barring the few exceptions of the more anti-social breeds. They flew about the peak, and every now and then, a group would peel off to land on the summit, in shadow.

The dawn's first rays struck the ice-capped mountaintop, and Valka did a double take.

That was no mere shadow.

"Cloudjumper! Recall that Timberjack, NOW!" she cried, and her dragon let loose a screech that echoed on the mountain slopes below. The small flock they were gaining on slowed and looked back in confusion, except the Timberjack. Rather than turn about, the Timberjack cried back in refusal and accelerated even faster towards the shadow that did not flee in the face of the morning sun. Valka was close enough now to see the girl turn about on dragonback and raise a hand in recognition before facing forward again and leaning into her dragon's desperate speed, still letting the Timberjack lead. She had also been close enough to see a terrible truth.

"There are two of them on that Jack!" she called out to the other members of the search party.

Then the shadow swallowed them up, and the Timberjack, the children, and all the dragons that followed them in their loose formation were never seen in that world again.

Valka landed in the village square. She could see another building and several walkways had collapsed in the ground quake while she was away. One of the larger carved stone guards of the harbor had also crumbled into the sea. The people were frantically digging through the wreckage as Astrid organized search and recovery for whom Valka assumed must be the wayward children.

Her good daughter barely looked up from her map of the village at Valka's arrival, if the marks of the map were any indication, the damages from the ground quake were worse than it had looked from the air. Much worse.

"If you are missing two wee ones I know where they were but not where they went."

Astrid looked up and stared at her good mother.

"What did you see." she asked.

"I am not sure you would believe me." Valka replied.

The acting chieftess continued to stare at Valka with steely blue eyes.

"A gate made of shadows." Astrid stated in a knowing tone. And glared harder at Valka's taken aback look.

"I have had a great and terrible dream, mother. A dream of foretelling that can only be from the gods. Tell me what you saw. Spare nothing."

Only once before had Valka heard of such a dream in her youth; ignoring it had caused the village to lose half its population to disease and starvation during winter. Such dreams, and the claims of having them, were not to be trifled with or misconstrued—especially not to be falsely declared. Astrid was not a liar, and never before had she claimed to have been touched by divinity, so her Good Daughter truly believed she was telling the truth. Thus, Valka took her at her word and told her everything.

"I saw the Hofferson girl and one other fly on a Timberjack with other dragons into a shadow atop that mountain that does not flee in the face of sunlight. They flew in, and nothing flew out. There was no cave, nor hidden hole in the ground for them to hide in. We witnessed more dragons entering the shadow from afar; whatever it is, it is above the ruins of the shrine and floats above the ground itself. No light pierces it, and we saw enough dragons go in to know that they are not simply hiding in the darkness of the shadow itself. We can only conclude that they are no longer there. The wild dragons congregate at the summit, and most seem afraid to enter the shadow yet unwilling to leave. Some of the more solitary breeds beeline straight into it from afar; we watched a Scauldron come in from the western sea and dive straight into the shadow without pause. More and more dragons seem to make up their minds and enter the shadow atop the mountain as the sun rose up and revealed the shadow gate in full."

Astrid nodded at the description.

"Hickenstrick go and notify my aunt and uncle and the Inger's that we know where the children went and they are more than likely alive." She tiredly said to one of the Vikings standing by. He quickly ran off to do as ordered.

"I have little doubt we have finally found where Hiccup went," Astrid muttered to herself before glancing down beside her.

"Well?"

That was when Valka realized that Elder Gothi was present at the table by Astrid's side. She hadn't noticed the small elder's presence, as her signature staff was not with her. She held instead a small and very well-carved walking stick.

Gothi glared up at the mountain and then around at the village, turned out to sea, and stared at the burning horizon that glowed even in daylight, with dragons flying in from afar in ones and twos, all headed toward the mountain peak. Then she finally turned to look down at her feet and stared at the ground in deep thought. Minutes later, she tapped her walking stick on the cobble before writing with it in a patch of beach sand dumped to the side of the table for her use. Valka knew Gothi's way of talking well; she did not need Astrid's translation.

"The Elder and Chieftess are in agreement. Even greater disaster soon comes upon us; we take all that we can and heed the dragons' warnings. Berk is not just a place; it is a people, and it is our responsibility to ensure that Berk remains for the next generation. Take us to the portal."

Valka felt the floor drop out from under her; she had not thought things would ever escalate to this without her seeing it coming from far and away. This felt too sudden, yet still, it was necessary.

"Sound the horn of the harbor, prepare the ships and chains to lift them! Set anyone not packing up the industry and belongings out to corral the larger breeds to help with moving everything. Keep them well-behaved with rewards from our non-dried goods in store; we will have little use for quick-spoiling food now. In four days, I want this village empty. Women and children with a vanguard first, and the rest of us to follow."

The men and women present simply stared at Astrid and Gothi, dumbfounded.

"NOW!"

They rushed to obey and set things in motion.

Berk was moving, and that was that. Most would grumble and complain but pack up anyway. Those who truly did not wish to leave were welcome to stay and face whatever calamity Elder Gothi had agreed was coming. But none could claim the dragons were not fleeing, and while dragons were naturally not as brave as any trueborn Viking, it was generally and grudgingly admitted that they came in at a close second.

To ignore the signs was the very height of foolishness. So they grumbled and complained and generally made great misery about pulling up stakes and relocating somewhere their leaders had yet to explain—but pull up stakes they did.

We will be back to Hiccup's side of the portal next chapter.

Also I have a account on that patronage site now! Check it out by searching Gabenator5. I will be posting my first publicized original work there in the future titled: "The Deep Stone."

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