Author's Note: TW: child death

Please read the end note for an important message

Hiccup laid in bed with his eyes closed, listening to Dagur's screams. He'd tried looking, but it was too much for him. What he saw in just a few seconds, was more than he needed. Seeing Dagur injured and covered in blood, triggered something in his mind. All the memories of his time on the Hunter came flooding back in full force with perfect clarity.

The pitch black nights, the blood from the beatings, the starvation, the loneliness. It was all too much to take in at once.

Soon Dagur's screams ceased, but Hiccup didn't dare open his eyes, for fear of what he might see.

"It's okay," he heard Jorn say to Mala. "Your job is complete. He's going to be fine."

"What now?" Mala asked.

"Now?" Jorn repeated, taking in a deep, tired breath. "I wrap up his shoulder and get him into bed. I don't think he'll be waking up until sometime tomorrow. Looks like I have two patients to look after for a while."

Hiccup listened to them move around the house for a bit until he heard Jorn speak again. "Head up to bed, Mala. Astrid and I can watch after the little one night. You need rest just as much as your husband."

The Berkian Chief didn't hear a response but assumed she was taking Jorn up on his offer because he could hear her walking up the steps. Once she was upstairs, he heard Jorn walk over and sit down in the chair next to him.

"You can open your eyes now," Jorn said.

Hiccup did as told and looked at Jorn, who looked like he'd age ten years overnight. "How'd you know I was awake?"

"Saw you looking earlier while I was stitching up Dagur," Jorn replied. "That and you're horrible at faking sleep. For one, you snore."

"Is he going to be okay?" Hiccup asked, ignoring the comment about him snoring.

"He should be," Jorn said. "A Hunter got him during the battle and left him with a pretty nasty wound on his shoulder. Sewed him up best I could. The rest is up to him."

"What about you?" Hiccup wondered. "Are you okay?"

Jorn ran his fingers through his hair and let out an exhausted sigh. "Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

Hiccup might not have known Jorn for very long, but he knew when someone he cared about was hiding something from him. Sure he had his own problems to with right now, but if he could offer any kind of help, he was taking the opportunity. "It's more than that. What's wrong?"

Jorn looked at his patient. It'd been so long since someone actually seemed concerned for his wellbeing. He'd spent so long caring for others, no one stopped to ask how he was doing. Now here was someone barely past death's door, wanting to make sure he was okay. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

"Take your time," Hiccup said. "I'm wide awake and Astrid is I'm assuming outside with their baby."

"Why don't I reheat some of that leftover stew and get you some skyr first," Jorn suggested, standing up. "Talking always goes better with some food."

Jorn walking over to the kitchen area, grabbed the cauldron off the table and hung it on the hook over the fire. He thought back to his homeland. Even after twenty years, he could picture it as clear as day.

Jorn sat on the porch with his son, watching him eat the last of the of the boar meat they had.

"Any more left?" His son asked, looking up at him with sunken, hungry eyes.

"Sorry, Hagan," Jorn apologized. "That was the rest of what we had. We'll join the men for a fishing trip tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll catch something good."

"We never catch anything. Nobody does," Hagan cried, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Jorn knew he was right, but they needed to have hope. Hope that this famine would end soon. "Go on up to bed. I'll go check the well for some water."

Hagan just nodded, and slowly stood, heading inside. Jorn watched with a pained heart as his son slowly walked through the house on unsteady, far too skinny legs. He then looked out at the village. The once-green grass turned to dirt and dust. No more animals roamed, as all had either been killed for food or died of disease. No trade ship came anymore. Not since the Dragon Hunters set up patrols to stop them from entering the island's waters.

In the four months since the start of the famine more than half the village had died, including their Chief. Jorn was given the title six weeks ago since no one was left in the bloodline to carry it. As the village Healer, he was next in line. A few days later, he buried his wife and stillborn daughter, along with two more villagers.

He knew it was just a matter of time before both he and his son died from starvation as well. He needed to act fast if he was going to save themselves and the village. He looked out on the horizon where the Hunter boats sat. They were to blame for all this and only they could fix it.

Once he was sure Hagan was asleep, he slipped down to the docks and got into one of the fishing boats. He rowed his way toward the Hunters, ready to offer a deal. It wasn't a deal he wanted to make, but one he had to.

As he moved across the water he thought back to when the leader of the Hunters, Garald, approached the former Chief of the tribe, offering work and trade agreements for the village. The Chief declined. He had no intention of having an alliance of any kind with Dragon Hunters.

Saying no, doomed the village. The Hunters poisoned the land, making it impossible to grow anything. They barely had anything in the storerooms when it started. Then the animals started dying from eating the poisoned crops, so they had to kill the ones that had survived in the hopes that the meat was still good.

Every few weeks, Garald would come back and ask if the Chief had changed his mind yet. The answer always remained "No". The last visit, six weeks ago, was made by his sons, Viggo and Ryker. Viggo came with several barrels of bread and dried meats. Ryker stood there protesting that the village didn't deserve food.

The gesture led to a rather civil conversation, but the answer never changed. The village cared about the dragons. The dragons helped keep the more dangerous animals, such as snakes and bears, away. After the land had been poisoned, the dragons left to find better resources. Who could blame them?

Before he realized he'd made it to the ships. He looked up at the lead ship, standing on deck, staring down at him was Viggo and Ryker.

He set his rowing paddles down and stood up. "I am Chief Jorn. The former Chief died shortly after your last visit. I've come to talk."

Viggo allowed Jorn to board the ship. The two talked and came to an agreement. Jorn himself and his son would go with them and in exchange, the remaining villagers would be given all they needed to survive until the trade ships returned. Jorn would join their ranks of Healers and once his son was old enough, he'd be trained to be a Hunter.

It wasn't an ideal outlook for their future, but at least he'd be able to see his son grow up and his village would survive.

It would only be two more years he managed to buy for his son before he fell ill and died. All he could do was ease his son's pain as he succumbed to the mystery illness.

After that, Jorn threw himself into his work, getting his hands on whatever medical text he could, while rising to the rank of Head Healer. He became one of the Grimborn's most trusted men. He worked day and night treating the sick and injured. He learned to tune out the screams of prisoners and roars of anguished dragons.

The years passed in a blur until Hiccup and his friends started taking down the Hunters. He never paid the Riders much mind. But they sure did make his job harder, and for the longest time, he resented them for that. It wasn't until after Krogan and Johann were killed and he went to work for Drago, did he start understanding what Hiccup was trying to do.

After Drago's death, he decided it was time to break away from the world of Dragon Hunters. He didn't make it very far before Grimmel dragged him back with the promise of a quiet life training new Healers along with a generous amount of gold.

It didn't take long for Grimmel and Hiccup to butt heads and for the latter to come out on top. Then the dragons disappeared, and Skade tried to take over the Dragon Hunters with empty promises of finding the creatures. In the past year, Jorn tried to get away, no longer wanting to be part of the Hunters. Yet Skade kept a close eye on him, making sure he was never out of his sight.

When they finally captured Hiccup, Jorn did everything he could to help the young man but lacked the resources. Which is something he'd always regret.

The early rays of sunshine began filtering through as Jorn brought his life's tale to an end. "... I have a lot to make up for if I want a fighting chance at Valhalla. I let my tribe down because I was selfish in wanting to save my son. I failed to even do that."

Hiccup offered him a look of understanding and mirrored grief. He understood what it was like to lose family and make hard decisions when it came to their safety and that of the tribe. "How old was your son?"

"He was ten," Jorn sighed. "He would have turned 28 in a few months. I like to think he would have turned his back on the Hunters and found a way home if it was still there."

"What happened to your tribe?" Hiccup wondered.

"Gone," Jorn answered. "By the time Viggo sent the trade ships, it was too late for crops, and none of the ships carried dried meats or live animals. All they had were small portions of fruits and vegetables. By the end of the winter, everyone was gone. Whispering Deaths took over the island. I like to think that a few of them went with the traders and managed to survive. But I fear I'm last of the Wolven Tribe."

Hiccup offered a sad, tired smile. "The Hooligan Tribe always has room for anyone who wishes to join. We're very open about who we let in."

Jorn returned the smile. "I'll have to think about that. You, however, should get some sleep. When you wake up, it'll be your turn to share."

"My turn?" Hiccup asked.

"We'll discuss it when you wake up," Jorn said as he stood up and stretched. "Sleep, first."

Hiccup wanted to protest, but he knew better than to argue with a Healer. If you didn't listen, they'd get revenge either with a whack to the head from a walking staff, or with the nastiest tonics they could think up. Besides, he'd been fighting sleep's the better part of the last hour.

Astrid sat on the porch, holding the baby, listening to Jorn and Hiccup talking throughout what remained of the night. It was heartbreaking to hear everything Jorn had gone through. The man lost his entire family to the Hunters and managed to keep going. He spent the better part of twenty years a shell of what he once was.

She knew that if anyone could help him, it would be Hiccup. He had a knack for bringing out the good in people and helping them move forward. She listened as her husband invited the Healer into their tribe. Even if he turned the offer down, Dagur would give him a place among the Berserkers. Neither chief would let this man go off on his own, not after everything he's done for them.

"How's the baby?" Jorn asked, sitting down next to her.

"He's fine," Astrid answered. "Went and got him some yak's milk for when he got hungry. Changed a nappie. Other than a bit of fussing, he's been a happy baby."

"Why don't I take him for a bit?" Jorn suggested. "You've been up all night and could use some rest."

"You need rest as well," Astrid pointed out. "You spent the night sewing people back together during and after a battle."

"True," Jorn agreed. "However, I'm used to working through the night. I'll get some sleep later."

Astrid didn't respond, she just handed the baby over, stood up, and went inside to catch a couple of hours of sleep.

Author's Note: I am taking a break from my stories for a bit. I need to focus on my family right now. My husband's cousin just died leaving behind a pregnant wife and two kids. Him and his mom need me right now. They are hurting.

I don't know when I'll post again, so please be patient and understand that my family comes before my writing.

See you later.