Prodigal Son 30
Faint beams of pre-dawn light shone through the plank walls which made up the back room behind Gobber's forge. One hit the face of Astrid, who was curled up on the little wooden cot. It was short enough that she had been forced to scrunch up to keep her legs from sticking out the bottom. As dawn broke across the horizon, sunlight flooded through the shack, forcing her to squint and pulling her back into the waking world. She grimaced as memories of the previous evening flooded in, reminding her why she was on a low cot behind Gobber's forge instead of her bed at home or in Hiccup's bed at the Haddock Hall. Astrid pulled her threadbare blanket up, throwing the corner over her face to give herself a few more minutes of comforting darkness in the hopes that sleep would once again swallow her.
The floorboards above her head creaked, and she heard a loud yawn as Gobber awoke. The smith slept in a bed upstairs, above his spare room. He had long ago learned that it was far warmer up there, where heat from the forge gathered. As he rose out of bed and stretched, little trails of dust landed on her, falling from wherever he stepped. The stairs creaked under his weight, and the smell of smoke and sweat followed him down into the forge, drifting into the back room where she lay. Astrid heard him clanking around the shop, and then the sound of a striker throwing sparks. She realized he was relighting the forge. Silence fell and gradually she could hear the flickering crackle of a small blaze, and the sound of Gobber puffing on it. Then she heard the creaking of the bellows, and Gobber began to sing, belting out with the rhythm of his work, "Well I've got my axe and I've got my mace and I've got my wife with the ugly face, I'm a Viking through and through!"
It was the end of her attempts to stay asleep.
Astrid groaned and rolled out of bed, only to meet the floor a mere foot below. She landed on her hands and knees and scowled at the planks for no reason beyond general ill humor. The blanket came with her and it took her a moment longer than she felt it should have to get untangled and on her feet. She felt blindly for her axe and realized that somewhere along the line, she had already strung it across her back where it belonged. That was Berk's morning routine: Wake up, find axe, open eyes, and get out of bed. Maybe yawn and stretch.
She stepped into the forge, rubbing knots out of the back of her neck.
"Good morning Astrid!" Gobber said cheerfully, pumping the bellows.
"Morning." She stared down at the rectangular hunk of metal which was sitting cold on the anvil, where he'd left it the night before. "What are you making?"
"A billhook fer cuttin' branches and roots. Yeh know, most of the time I'm makin' weapons. But every so often someone needs a tool! That's when things get excitin'." He winked at her.
"What's the most boring part?"
"The nails. The amount of re-buildin' we do, we need buckets and buckets'o the bloody things."
Astrid remembered; one of the first jobs young children were allowed to do to help with the war effort on Berk was to strip burned homes of nails and other metal objects which could be melted down and re-used. Every home had so many weapons in it and homes were burnt down so frequently that Gobber very rarely ran out of scrap metal. Occasionally the children uncovered a half-melted axe head, or a mace, and Gobber would give them a treat. Occasionally they uncovered a corpse, smelling of burned hair and charred flesh… yet the teeth were always white…
Did yeh talk ta Gothi?"
"Hmm?" She blinked and looked up at him in confusion, still trying to shake off sleep.
"Did yeh speak ta Gothi?" Gobber asked patiently, still pumping air through the coals. The fire grew brighter and brighter by the second.
Figure out what you can't live with. Do the opposite. "Yeah. Yes. She'll help."
"Glad ta hear it," He said with satisfaction, huffing as he pulled down on the enormous lever. "What do yeh have ta do fer her in return?"
"I… she wanted… other secrets."
"Tha's it?" Gobber raised his eyebrows. "Some days gettin' favors from that old bat is like pullin' teeth. Other days… ahh, maybe she just has a soft spot for yeh."
"If you stopped calling her an old bat, that might help." Astrid muttered, watching him work.
The blacksmith chuckled. "Yeh just wait till yeh get yer first big battle wound, Astrid. The moment she puts her salts in to clean it yeh'll call her damned near anything that comes to mind. Yeh'll just wish the dragon had ended yeh instead."
Astrid smiled at him, and he smiled right back, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "When is our guest of honor arriving?"
"No idea."
"Well then no point in worrying." Gobber let go of the bellows, and scanned the smithy. "Now, where did I put my hand…?"
Astrid spotted a likely looking clamp, which the grateful blacksmith took and attached to his stump. He picked up a pair of tongs with his other hand and shoved his half-finished billhook deep into the glowing coals. "Right…"
"Gobber, thanks for letting me stay here last night."
"Any time yeh need to, Astrid. Whenever yeh need to escape the old yak." He chuckled warmly and they shared a smile before she wandered off into Berk. Sunlight had just hit the tip of the mountain, making the snow-shod peak shine like a diamond.
Astrid avoided her house out of embarrassment. She did not want to let her family know she had already made an enemy of Berk's chief. On the far hill at the other end of Berk, Haddock Hall stood proud and tall, though with all that had occurred the night before, she banished the thought of approaching it. Instead she headed for the docks.
The ramps were steep and slippery in the early morning, and avoided by the general population until the sun had dried them out. Stoick had ordered planks to be nailed cross-ways all the way down so that the sailors and fishermen could climb in safety. Due to her years of training, Astrid was also quick on her feet, able to keep her balance. Climbing down cliff-face ramps was little trouble for her.
The sailors who were out on the water all day awoke before dawn to set out while the wind was light and the water calm. The docks were completely deserted, and Astrid knew they would be for some time to come. She kicked around on the docks for a little while, listen to the calming sound of water, lapping at the logs of timber on which the dock rested. Each of them had an enormous build-up of barnacles which started around the high-tide line, and coated the logs all the way down to their bases, buried deep under the murky water. Astrid could see starfish of various sizes and colors wrapped around each wooden pillar, and she sat there for some time, taking in the salty scent and the feel of the cool air on her skin. It was going to be a rough day, and she wanted to savor that moment of peace.
Dawn broke, and found the docks deserted, but a basket of fish was missing. Astrid Hofferson was carrying it deep into the forest, towards Raven Point. Stormfly welcomed her with the usual enthusiasm, hopping from one foot to the other, and flapping her colourful wings.
"It's a greeting dance." Hiccup said from somewhere behind her.
Astrid turned. He was crouched nearby on an enormous flat boulder across which Toothless was spread luxuriously. The night fury's saddle and false tail had been placed carefully to the side. The night fury was bare; all sleek black scales and powerful muscle. Hiccup was rubbing his dragon's flanks and back with an oil or ointment of some sort. It made his scales glow as they caught the meager, grey light of dawn.
Astrid emptied her fish basket for Stormfly, and watched the dragon devour it, stroking its neck gently. After the dragon had eaten its fill, she scampered up onto the boulder and clambered over to join Hiccup and Toothless. As she grew close, she became aware of the foul salty stench of the oil Hiccup was using.
"Fish oil," the young man explained, rubbing both hands down Toothless' tail. The dragon let out a satisfied grumble, and yawned, his mouth opening wide before he settled down on his paws and let his eyes shut.
"Stinks to high heaven, but you love it, don't you, bud?" Hiccup grinned at his dragon, who let out a snort, and a small puff of smoke. "His saddle chafes. So does his prosthetic."
Astrid glanced down at the ragged tear, and the pale scar which ran along the end of the night fury's tail. There were areas of his skin where scales had been worn off by the straps and mechanisms Hiccup had attached to him.
"I like to pamper him every so often." Hiccup said, rubbing the oil into the sore areas. "Makes me feel better. And you too, right Toothless?" The dragon let out a noncommittal noise and kept his eyes shut.
Astrid sank to her knees beside the dragon rider, watching the night fury's chest expand and contract with each gentle breath. She said, "Do you think it hurt him? Losing his tail?"
Toothless's head snapped over and the dragon gave her an incredulous look, eyes wide with an almost human look of disbelief. Little tendrils of smoke curled from each nostril.
"We don't really like to think about it, to be honest. That was a bad day for him."
Toothless crooned a sorrowful agreement, and laid his head on his paws again. Hiccup, meanwhile, had moved around, and was working his way up the dragon's other side. The young man had discarded his armour completely, dressed in a ragged, pale, short-sleeved tunic with brown leggings. As he worked, she found her eyes drifting across his forearms, watching the way he moved as he worked the oil in; gently, yet with a firm gracefulness which Berkians lacked. His skin was tanned to brown and, like Gobber's, covered in dozens of small burns and scrapes. She wondered if he had made use of his blacksmith skills during his time away.
"I had an argument with your dad yesterday. Had to sleep at Gobbers'."
Hiccup's brow furrowed, and he shot her a concerned look over the ridge of Toothless' spines.
"How often did you sleep at Gobber's forge, Hiccup?"
The boy sighed and looked back down at Toothless, giving the dragon's back an affectionate stroke. "More often than I would have liked."
Astrid felt heat creep up the back of her neck. She felt ashamed, she realized. "I never knew. When we were kids, I mean. I never realized…"
"… Dad can be stubborn, yeah." Hiccup admitted carefully. Toothless' tail snaked protectively around Hiccup's back, and they both heard the dragon coo softly.
"How did you live with that for fourteen years?"
"I…" he shifted uncomfortably, "Astrid, look, I've got to see him again today, and it's going to be hard enough without all of that baggage."
"Sorry."
"What did you argue about?"
She hesitated, not sure how the young man would take the news. "Well… Stoick said that Fishlegs told him to build your war machines for another attack on the nest."
Hiccup brightened immediately. "Yes. It was my idea."
"What? But those war machines, they-" she glanced at Toothless and leaned in conspiratorially. "They kill dragons."
"I know." Hiccup sat back and sniffed. He raised his hands to rub his nose, then realized they were still covered in fish oil. He pulled out a cloth and tried to wipe off what he could. "My dad liked the idea?"
"Loved it."
"Good." Hiccup said, his voice thick with satisfaction.
Astrid frowned, confused. "Why in Hel's name would you tell him to build war machines? Aren't you trying to stop it all? That's the point, right?"
"Gobber's never been able to make an invention of mine work."
"He made your wood mill work."
As he always seemed to when he spoke with any energy, Hiccup waved his arms, gesturing furiously. "The mill was simple. Just a couple of big gears. The real change was housing it all in a dragon-proof building. My war machines have complex mechanisms. Dad will pour lots of time and money and materials and effort into building dozens of them, and then they'll crash and break, and he'll look like a fool in front of the entire village."
Astrid stared in disbelief. "You're gambling."
"Am not. The only designs Gobber's actually managed to build are the prototypes I helped him with!" Hiccup's smile faltered, and his arms dropped to his sides. "I don't like undermining my dad, but I have to."
Unable to keep it in any longer, she blurted out, "He wants to kill you."
Hiccup froze for a moment, processing the statement. Then he shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. Have you ever woken him up while he's sleeping at the table? Take all sharp objects away first." His words were confident, but she saw how the colour had drained from his cheeks.
"I asked Gothi to stop him."
Hiccup nodded silently, staring at the ground.
"Everything will be fine," she added.
"You should get going, Astrid. I'll arrive on Berk when the sun's at its peak. Be ready."
"You too."
All of Berk was gathered in the town square. Hundreds upon hundreds of faces, bearded and otherwise, all turned skyward. Most of them were armed. Astrid could hear the worried whispers which rippled through the crowd.
"I heard he rides the beast like a horse." "I heard he's half-man, half-dragon." "I heard he can fly." "I heard he breathes fire." Such rumors had been circulating constantly since they had come back from the nest. Tales aplenty had been told of the mysterious rider, who had harnessed the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Everyone was eager to see him up close.
Stoick was standing with Fishlegs and Snotlout on the path leading up to the great hall. Astrid stood with her family down near Gobber's forge. Her mother Brunhilda, of course, noticed the choice, and the chilly gulf between Astrid and Stoick, each of whom every so often shot cold glances across the crowd at one another.
Brunhilda gave her daughter a curious look, but Astrid shook her head. Other intelligent Vikings in the crowd had caught the symbolic significance of the distance between Stoick and his heir, including Gobber, and Spitelout who was watching them with insidious eyes.
Time passed, clouds slowly drifting by. A few in the crowd decided to get on with it, and continued with their day.
"Where is he?" One Viking asked. "We've been out here for half an hour! This is outrageous!"
"Don't worry," said Bucket, the tall man giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "He's up there."
"How do you know that, Bucket?" Mulch asked, giving his enormous friend a curious look.
Bucket shrugged and stared blissfully up into the heavens. "Dunno. I just do."
It was the children who first spotted the black speck in the sky, hovering near the leeward side of a plump cloud formation. Their pointing fingers and excited whispers were ignored at first, as children often were. Yet a few people in the crowd picked up on it and soon everyone was watching the black speck as it circled closer and closer, eventually close enough that they could make out demonic black wings and hear the faint whistle of the night fury's flight.
"He's here! He's here!" the lookouts cried. Across the crowd, Stoick tensed, his eyes narrowing as he watched the descending shape.
"Is he going to land here? Right in the middle of town?" a blond, bearded Viking asked incredulously.
"We'll chop his beastie up if he does!" another answered, gripping his sword.
Astrid's gaze lingered beyond the edges of the crowd. She could see, in the alleyways, Jorgenson warriors crouched with bows and arrows at the ready. That was it, then. Stoick was going through with his plan anyway. She searched for Gothi's profile, but the Shaman was much shorter than most Vikings, and there was no way to know where she was. Astrid played with the idea of going after Stoick's waiting warriors herself, but there was no way that would turn out well for her, or her family.
"What does he look like up close, Astrid?" Brunhilda asked curiously, leaning across to her. "I've never seen a night fury up close before."
"It's… smaller than I had expected."
"I'm surprised he hasn't attacked us yet," Haldor Hofferson commented. "We're all bunched up. A perfect target for a Night Fury's fire."
"He doesn't want to attack us." Astrid told him.
"And you'd know that because…?"
"Because he told me," she said bluntly.
The crowd cried out in sudden alarm as the night fury dove towards them, dropping out of the sky at an incredible speed, producing that whistling noise so hated and feared across the archipelago. The warriors in the crowd ran for weapons. Other fled to the shelter of their homes. Within a few seconds the square had all but cleared. Astrid and her family were there, along with a few of the braver warriors and one or two curious civilian. Everyone else was watching from sheltered doorways.
About fifty meters above their heads, the beast levelled out and slowed to a near halt. The dragon rider waved, leaning over his dragon's flank. A few seconds later he leapt off the dragon's back. The Berkians gasped in astonishment as the rider dropped towards them. It looked for a moment as if he was going to crash into the ground, but at the last second, a mere ten meters from the dirt, he flung his arms out, exposing a pair of leathery brown wings. The movement brought him into a steady glide, and he slid to a spotless halt in front of Stoick's entourage, showering them in a wave of dirt as his feet dug trenches in the packed soil. The Vikings around him backed away immediately, gaping at the figure. Stoick held his ground, glaring through the slits in the rider's helmet. Berk's chieftain brushed a clump of dirt from his clothes and scowled down at the visitor.
For many in the crowd, this only confirmed rumors that the phantom was some kind of half-breed abomination or a shape shifter able to switch at will between man and beast, yet as they pushed their way back towards the figure, they saw that his wings were in fact mere leather sheets which the apparition was folding back into his strange brown armour.
Stoick drew his axe as he approached, and the rider took a step back. He was still half a head shorter than Stoick, and next to the three-dozen husky Vikings surrounding him, he looked very spindly. Tall, but all elbows and knees and long, long legs. He asked, "Are you the chief?"
"I am Stoick the Vast of the Haddock clan, Chieftain of Berk. Who are you?"
"Prometheus," The rider replied.
"Prometheus…" Stoick sounded the name out, chewing it like a sour lemon. "What business does a man have riding a dragon?"
But the visitor's attentions were elsewhere. He had turned on his heel, and was examining Berk. His gaze lingered on Gobber's smithy, and the defensive towers, which clearly displayed the net traps designed and built by a younger Hiccup Haddock. As he took it all in, his gaze rested momentarily on Astrid, who had shoved her way to the front of the crowd, and Gobber, who had followed in her wake. He was giving the visitor an equally sharp examination.
"Nice village you have here, chief. A little ahh… Burnt." This statement was true; repairs from the last raid had hardly begun. The Hrolfson homestead was a charred empty lot.
"We have beasts like yours to thank for that. Dragons are not welcome here, Prometheus. Neither are those who ally with them."
Astrid shot Stoick a forceful glare, which he returned in full.
"I'm glad that's going so well for you," Prometheus responded evenly. Astrid stifled a groan, watching Stoick's eyes narrow. This wasn't how the meeting was supposed to go.
"You should take better care where your fleet wanders, chief," the rider told him confidently. Above them, the dragon circled in a slow, arc.
"We had it handled," Stoick declared confidently. His entourage of Jorgenson allies all nodded in agreement, including Fishlegs. Every other warrior who had seen the beast gave their chief doubtful looks.
"Nearly," The rider agreed. "Whose idea was it to hang Eels from the rigging?"
All eyes fell on Astrid, and she slowly raised her hand. "It was mine."
"And hiding the weapons too?"
She nodded.
"That was clever." The stranger congratulated. "I'd never have expected Vikings to make it all the way to the nest. Not unless they were on dragonback. That was a good plan."
Astrid allowed herself a small, prideful smile. More than a few in the crowd gave her an appraising look.
"Didn't work, though." Snotlout reminded them. His bow and notched arrow were pointed at the sky. Astrid shot the man a glare.
Prometheus gave the burly Viking a quick examination. "And who are you?"
"Snotlout Jorgenson, the Dragon's Bane!" The Viking answered, eyeing the beast which rode the winds high above them.
"…Wow. And what were you planning to do with that bow and arrow, 'Snotlout'?"
"It's insurance." The Viking answered. "If your monster decides to burn this village, it'll go down with us."
"My dragon is well out of range, but you go ahead and empty all your arrows straight up into the air. There's no way that could possibly go badly for you." the apparition spoke in a snide tone which set everyone's teeth on edge.
Astrid snorted, as did a few others in the crowd. Yet Stoick said, "We don't trust the beasts. Perhaps we should just point our arrows at you instead."
"And piss off my night fury? Great plan, Chief."
Yet Snotlout had responded to Stoick's authority. The bow was now trained on the rider's heart. In the skies high above, the dragon let out an unmistakable warning cry. A guttural howl which sent chills down the spine of every adult Viking in the crowd. Oh yes, they all remembered how destructive night furies could be.
"Put your bow down, Snotlout!" Astrid ordered, taking visible pleasure in her authority. "Do you want to anger the Gods? We owe Prometheus a blood debt."
"Astrid-" Stoick tried to cut her off, but it was too late. The words were out, and the village looked on in shock and confusion. Most warriors would have wilted under Stoick's furious glower, and the clearly angry Jorgensons behind him, but Astrid returned the look in kind.
"He saved me, sir."
"He rides the beasts!"
"Law is law, sir!"
"What's a blood debt?" Prometheus cocked his head to one side. The innocence sounded real, at least.
Stoick shot Astrid a seething look. He said, "It's nothing that applies to you, Dragonfriend!"
The rest of the village looked less sure. They all knew the story: the stranger had stepped in at the last minute, and without his intervention the fleet would be cinders. A debt was a debt. The Gods were mindful of such things. Astrid ignored Stoick and addressed the rider directly. She said, "You saved us. According to Viking law that means we are to grant you a boon."
Prometheus glanced back at Astrid, but the young woman stayed silent, aware that she had overstepped her bounds. The rider said, "I need safe harbor for myself and my dragon. Whenever we need it, for as long as we-"
"Astrid does not have the authority to grant such a request!" Stoick interrupted. "We owe nothing to a dragon's ally."
"No authority? I'm your heir!" Astrid protested.
"I'm still chief!" he roared, silencing her, and the Vikings murmuring throughout the crowd.
"Look elsewhere, dragon-rider." Snotlout added. Most of the village was nodding in agreement.
"Do you want to anger the Gods?" Astrid argued hotly.
Prometheus cut in. "I'll feed myself and all, but I need a place to come in from the cold. I usually rest at the nest but the neighbors are kinda temperamental. Lots of loud noises, bad smells, crunching bones. You know you're in a bad neighborhood when other residents try to eat you if you don't keep the noise down…"
Stoick rounded on him. "You don't have the right to ask for anything from us! You come here, riding that demon's spawn, land on my island, insult my warriors and my village, and then have the stones to ask for a boon?"
A murmur spread through the crowd, the hostility towards Prometheus growing with every second.
"What was wrong with that landing? I thought it was pretty solid." Prometheus said, his voice speeding up as he spoke. Astrid could hear his nervousness. "And dragons aren't demons. But figuring that out takes brains…"
Oh, Hiccup, don't! Astrid begged silently. Fishlegs was wearing a pained expression, and the glance he shared with her said it all: This is not going to end well…
"…you know? The only bits you haven't toned to Herculean perfection?"
Silence fell as every Viking tried to work out what the word Herculean meant, but they all knew the sound of an insult when they heard it. Stoick slowly unclipped his axe, and advanced on the lanky rider. "I think it's about time I parted your tongue from your teeth."
All around the town, warriors emerged, weapons in hand. Prometheus slowly backed away, hands up in a placative gesture. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second. We can talk about this."
"Oh, I am more than done talking, Dragonfriend." Stoick snarled, his face blood red, "You enjoy flying so much perhaps I'll remove your feet and toss you off the cliff-"
At that very moment, the village square echoed with the sound of pattering rain.
Several villagers looked towards the cold blue sky in confusion, but the crowd quickly parted to reveal Gothi, who was shaking her staff to create the noise. Her sudden entrance was just enough of a shock to make Stoick pause, his axe raised and ready to swing. The shaman's old hawk-like eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene. The crowd shrank from her gaze like children caught red-handed before an angry parent. Stoick's venom-filled glare slowly crossed the crowd to rest on Astrid. He realized she had made good on her threat to appeal to the village's resident Mystic.
Gothi herself was giving the dragon rider a close examination, squinting up at him, taking in his foreign armour, and the black eagle sigil on his pauldrons.
"Wise Gothi-" Astrid began, before the shaman held up a hand to silence her. Gothi's staff moved in the sand between Astrid, Stoick, and Prometheus, drawing three interlocking triangles.
The Valknut. One of the most ancient and powerful of the old runes. It represented the forces of life, and death, and Odin's power over both. It was also a direct appeal to the gods. A beacon, bringing all the eyes of Valhalla down upon their settlement. It was not a symbol scratched lightly, and Gothi's intention was clear: any business conducted was to be done directly under the gaze of Odin's Court. Most of Berk dropped to its knees in honor. Astrid followed them, murmuring a quick prayer. Only Stoick and Prometheus stayed upright, though the Chief's eyes were wide with apprehension. His axe was gone, clipped back on his belt. It was one thing to slay the dragon rider and break a dubious blood debt in front of Astrid Hofferson and a village under his thumb. Quite another to risk it before all the gods.
But Gothi was not done. She traced out two symbols out in the sand: F and C. Ansuz and Kenaz. Elder Futhark, they were called. Ancient runes, each symbol carrying meaning and power. Writing was not all that common on Berk, though warriors were expected to be able to write. Only Fishlegs and a few of the tradesmen used the skill on a daily basis. On the rare occasion they did put their thoughts to paper Berkians didn't dare write in the Elder language. The symbols carried too much power. A newer alphabet was used for daily business. Anyone writing in Elder Futhark was willing to risk calling the gods' direct attentions to Berk. Or they meant to, as Gothi did.
Ansuz was one of Freyja's runes. It represented Odin, law, clarity and truth. Kenaz was the symbol of the beacon, representing knowledge and revelations. With the Valknut, Gothi had drawn the gods' attention. Now she was appealing to them directly, summoning their divine will.
Using the runes, Gothi had invoked an authority she alone possessed, and bound both Astrid and Stoick to the truth, and to the law. All the eyes of Valhalla were upon them. If they lied, broke their sacred oaths, or reneged on obligations, they would do it before Odin, their ancestors and all the heroes of old. It was unlikely that the gods would take kindly to any attempted deception. Especially not Odin, who had sacrificed an eye for knowledge.
Astrid could feel the gods' gaze upon her, and Gothi's eyes bored into her very soul. She felt cold, bowl-knotting fear run down her spine. This was it. This was as far as she could take Fishlegs' plans. Or Hiccup's. Astrid Hofferson would not lie to the gods. She could not. She fell to her knees, prostrating herself before the kingdom of Asgard, and the Gothi: The chosen conduit for its might and power in Midgard.
If the shaman asked whose face was under Prometheus' helmet, Astrid would have to tell her, or lose all honor before Berk and the gods. And if Prometheus were unmasked right at that moment, all of their plans would come undone. So she prayed silently for Odin's mercy and discretion.
The Gods answered her prayers when Gothi's staff swung over to point at Stoick the Vast. Gothi planted it in the ground and wrote the word: Speak.
"Gothi," the chief said, "Young Astrid claims that this… stranger… this foreigner, is owed a Blood Debt. We owe our enemies nothing. This man rides the beasts who steal our food, burn our homes, and murder our children. Those who make their homes with our enemies are our enemies. No blood debt is owed." Murmurs of agreement echoed throughout the crowd.
The staff swung toward Astrid and she knew Gothi wished her to speak. Sure enough, the runes were carved deep into the dry dirt.
Astrid said, "Wise Gothi, with Stoick I led the attack on the nest. I watched it open. I watched one of Loki's children, a giant dragon the size of an island, emerge from the black mountain to do battle with us. We were outmatched. Prometheus and his dragon saved my life. They saved all of us. A blood debt is owed by this village." This claim was greeting with an uneasy silence.
"Astrid was carried from the fight by a deadly nadder," Stoick said, "She saw nothing!"
"Prometheus saved me, and there are plenty of other witnesses. He saved us all," Astrid shot back, stung that her chief questioned her honesty so quickly.
The old shaman's face remained impassive as she considered both perspectives. She turned back to Stoick and tapped Ansuz, the rune of truth. The demand was clear, and the Viking chief deflated.
"He and his dragon fought with Loki's hel-spawn. He bought us time to escape. But we don't know why. He rides a dragon, and we're right not to trust him!"
"It was the right thing to do!" Prometheus blurted out, before Gothi held up a hand to silence him. She turned back to Stoick and carved another message into the dirt, deep enough for all of Berk to read.
He saved you. A debt is owed.
With that, Gothi turned back towards her home on the cliff's edge, and shuffled away, leaning on her staff for support. Stoick's nostrils flared in anger, and he snorted like a bull. He took a few steps after her, nearly treading on the sacred runes. "Gothi!" he bellowed, "Gothi, we are enemies of the dragons. This man is not. They murder our children! They murdered my son! How can we be allies? Gothi? Gothi!"
Yet the shaman ignored him and disappeared off towards her home.
Stoick growled in frustration and turned away, staring down at the runes and breathing heavily. He confronted Astrid, face twisting in rage. "You! You're not welcome in my hall, and you're not worthy of my name!" Astrid's breath hitched, and she looked at the ground, feeling nausea wash over her at the public humiliation.
"The Blood Debt will stand." Stoick called out, addressing the village at large. He turned back to the rider, "As you asked, you may rest here. Repair what tools you need."
"Not in my forge he won't." Gobber added, to the crowd's approval. Prometheus flinched.
"I'm not finished!" Stoick barked. "You're a foreign dog, and we don't want you here. You keep your beast away from us. You sleep in the kill ring with your true kin, and you treat every single one of my people with the utmost respect." This last proclamation was met with a cheer. "Break any of these rules and I'll kill you, dragon rider. I will beat you. I will cut you. I will bleed you dry. You and your hel-spawn. Blood Debt or no."
"Sounds fair. Very fair. Thank you, sir." Prometheus bowed before Berk's Chieftain. His voice was faint and weak. Fishlegs, standing at Stoick's side, made a disgusted noise and turned away from the dragon rider. Snotlout, Spitelout, and the other Jorgensons followed suit, heading up the hill after Stoick. Astrid felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she scanned the crowd.
Many of them were glaring at her. Almost all, in fact. Even the Barrasons and the Finnasons, the Hofferson Clan's closest allies. Her sisters and cousins among them, married into the allied clans, had turned their faces away from her in shame. Astrid was so utterly gods-damned tired of Berk's judgmental stares! Only her mother and father stood by her. Gobber was watching her too, making an effort to look friendly, though Astrid knew his smile was in honor of young Hiccup's memory more than any goodwill the blacksmith actually held towards her. She was grateful for it, even so.
She glared at them all, red-faced, but unwilling to shrink from her village's disgust. She turned back to 'Prometheus' as Hiccup called himself, and crossed her arms.
"Thank you, fair maiden, for your generosity," He said meekly, voice muffled beneath the helmet.
"The laws carved on Gungnir demanded it," Astrid said, addressing the thinning crowd more than the rider.
"Even so…"
Astrid felt a strong hand on her shoulder, and Haldor Hofferson stepped up beside her. "Best you leave, Dragonfriend. Before you cause us more trouble."
Beneath his mask, Hiccup's piercing green eyes darted between Astrid and her father. The few villagers left in the square were giving him hateful glares. A few spat at him as they passed by. Astrid envied him his anonymity. At least the helmet covering his face gave him some measure of protection. With his false identity he could wander anywhere, but Astrid Hofferson would forever be remembered as the woman who not only failed to kill a Dragonfriend, but argued against her chief to let one stay on the island.
A glum depression engulfed her as she realized in saving Hiccup she had lost the entire village's respect. That hole was dug so deep she could see no way out. The dream of changing Berk seemed wholly and entirely out of reach.
Hiccup seemed taken by the same lethargy. His shoulders drooped as he meandered silently down to the blacksmith's shop, and stepped off the edge of the cliff. A moment later he rose back into view, riding his Night Fury, and the two of them vanished into the horizon with a faint but thunderous crack.
The three conspirators met again that evening. Astrid and Fishlegs arrived at nearly the same time. Toothless was curled up on the grass with Hiccup in the middle, looking lost and forlorn. The young man had wrapped a bear fur around himself. He was shaking and pale-faced, his concentration centered on an ornate golden disc he held in his palm. The object looked almost magical in nature. It had strange writings around the edges, and lots of moving parts in the middle. Hiccup was staring down at it as if it would yield answers to all of his questions.
Her curiosity outstripped her sympathy, and Astrid opened her mouth to ask him about it, but Fishlegs tore into him first. "What happened? You had all the cards in your hand, Hiccup! There's a giant monster at the nest that only dragons can kill, the village owed you a blood debt… And you were right: that landing was impressive! The village was at your fingertips and you let it all slip away! You gave away all your ground when you could have had Stoick on the run! What happened to your Odious' plan?"
"Odysseus." Hiccup corrected numbly, still running his thumb over the golden disc. "Odysseus' plan."
"You had Berk at your fingertips," Fishlegs exclaimed, wringing his hands, "Ooh, Stoick was so mad. This is such a disaster."
"Fishlegs, lay off!" Astrid barked, watching the way Hiccup shrunk from the reprimand, and remembering the way Stoick had kicked her out the night before. Their chieftain was not a gentle man. She couldn't imagine what Hiccup must have felt like, being threatened in such a blunt manner by his own father.
Fishlegs said, "We're not going to take Berk if he can't stand up to Stoick the Vast, Astrid. You know it. I know it."
"Thank you, Fishlegs, for summing that up." Hiccup said hopelessly, pulling his furs a little tighter. The golden disc vanished beneath the thick brown covering.
Astrid glared at Fishlegs. "When was the last time your father threatened to kill you?"
"Doesn't matter. We can't afford to be this emotional. Not if we want to win," Fishlegs shot back. "You and I? We've done our part. All we can. But if Hiccup can't deliver…"
"Gobber said Stoick shouted Hiccup out of Haddock Hall every second night of his life, Fishlegs. Now he threatened his life! For Eir's sake, show some mercy!"
"Both of you, stop!" Hiccup barked. The other two fell silent, more out of shock than anything else. The gangly youth rose slowly to his feet, shrugging off his furs to tower over them both. In his hand he was still gripping that ornate golden disc. He said, "Fishlegs is right. I wasn't ready to face my dad. I screwed up, and I can't let it happen again." His grip on the golden disc tightened. "Mistakes carry a cost, and this one set us back. We can't afford to make any more of them. Not now."
"Can you face him next time?" Fishlegs asked, his arms crossed.
Hiccup replied with a steady, confident look. Yet his face was still pale. "I'll be ready."
"So what's the next step?" Astrid asked, glancing from one to the other.
"I'll lay low." Hiccup said. "I think everyone on Berk needs a few weeks to calm down. I'll do the occasional flyby. Let them get used to me being around…"
"Look for opportunities to help." Fishlegs suggested. "Winter's coming, and we'll be collecting supplies. Food and such. It's a way you can help without actually entering the village, I'll do what I can on the side to smooth things over, and I'll keep an eye on the village's temperament. Let you know when you need to back off, or where you can help more."
"And what about me?" Astrid asked.
"Upholding the Blood Debt was an unpopular move, Astrid. You lost your friends and your popular support defending Prometheus. That's what Hiccup's mistake cost."
"I caught that, thanks." Astrid said dryly and Hiccup looked at the ground in shame.
"People are going to treat you badly."
"I can take it."
"It wouldn't have happened if Hiccup had stood up to Stoick. We'd be in a much better position."
"Fishlegs, don't," Astrid snarled, noting the way Hiccup's face had fallen.
"We're a team, Fishlegs. We can't turn against each other," Hiccup told him.
"I'm not trying to turn anything, I'm just saying," Fishlegs said defiantly, "This could have gone far better."
"Fishlegs, can I have a private word?" Astrid gave Hiccup a pointed look.
"Oh… brilliant," He muttered, "Just… try not to kill each other please. It would just give my dad another excuse…" With that he turned and tromped back to Toothless, who was lounging on a patch of grass.
Astrid turned on Fishlegs. Her voice was soft but fierce. "What in Hel's realm are you doing?"
"Pointing out the truth."
"More than that. You're up to something. You always are. Do you want this plan to work?"
"Of course."
"Then stop toying around! This isn't a board game, Fishlegs. When Stoick said he'd kill Hiccup, he wasn't lying."
They both looked at the auburn-haired rider. Hiccup had once again pulled out the golden disc. He was adjusting mechanisms on it, occasionally glancing up at the sky absentmindedly.
"…This is serious." Astrid finished.
"Did you know even after all this time he still cares about you?"
"Who?" Astrid asked blankly.
Fishlegs nodded towards Hiccup. "He's still in love. Or whatever that was."
Astrid felt heat rush into her cheeks. "I… what? Why is that? What does that mean?" Really? He did? After eight years? It sounded sand and pathetic when she thought of him as the fourteen-year-old talking fishbone. But when she glanced back at the leather-clad rider with his long, long legs and auburn mane…
She realized Fishlegs was smirking, and she glared at him. "That… doesn't matter right now."
"It's relevant because if he thinks his actions hurt you, it might motivate him to do better next time. And he needs to do better. I'm not trying to split this group up, Astrid. I'm playing to win."
She glared at him in disgust. "Does your wife know what she married?"
Fishlegs rocked back as if slapped. His mouth hung open, and his face carried a look of shock which Astrid found deeply, viscerally satisfying. She grinned at him, even as he swallowed a retort. Hiccup was approaching, his feet slipping and crunching on the loose pebbles of the shoreline. "Everyone still breathing?"
Astrid nodded, trying to avoid Hiccup's searching gaze. Eight years… Fishlegs voice echoed eight years… "I was just wondering if instead of laying blame, Fishlegs could do something about the state of things."
Fishlegs shook his head, still smarting from her well-placed barb. "You're unpopular now but this will get worse. We only have one card to play, and I'm saving it."
"What for?" she demanded angrily.
"For when you start riding dragons." Fishlegs explained with patronizing patience. "They're going to think you've gone right around the bend."
"Wait, Card? What card?" Hiccup glanced between them.
"The moment Stoick declared Astrid his heir, the Jorgensons forced her into a marriage deal with Snotlout." Fishlegs told him.
Astrid stared at the soggy ground, her face red with shame, and glowering with anger.
"Oh, Thor…" Hiccup's fingers leapt into his hair, and combed through repeatedly. An action her eyes couldn't help but follow. "Astrid, I'm so, so s-"
"Don't you dare pity me!" She snapped, jabbing her finger into Hiccup's chest.
He raised both hands, the golden disc glinting in the sunlight. "Whoa, I wouldn't- I wasn't- I would never!"
"The Jorgensons bully everyone, Hiccup, and Snotlout is very unpopular," Fishlegs explained. "He's got a big mouth, but he's not actually very good at what he does."
"Really? I'm stunned."
Fishlegs rolled his eyes. "No one wants him to lead. I might be able to play that enmity in Astrid's favor."
"Then do it." Hiccup said.
"When the time is right…" Fishlegs replied.
Astrid growled in frustration and turned away. "I am so tired of all these lies."
"It's necessary," Fishlegs told her.
"Things'll get better." Hiccup added, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The moment everyone realizes how great dragons really are, everything will be better."
"We just have to survive and gather support until the balance tips," Fishlegs said. "Until that happens, Astrid, you're going to have to bear the village's scorn."
Howdy dudes and dudettes!
I've been out of it for quite a while. Suffice it to say that employment and other adult life problems added stress. Stress killed the muse. Now at least some of those problems are solved, and the muse came back to life. Here I am, ready to rumble!
The last scene was written with input from Midoriko-Sama, and I'd like to thank her for the help and support she's given.
The Valknut is an interesting rune. It was around apparently as early as the eighth century. The word Valknut itself is a modern word. No one seems to know what the Vikings of the era called that symbol. No one knows exactly what it means, either. So please keep in mind I might well be abusing it here. The best information I was able to find was that it is associated with Odin and his binding powers over life and death. It appears quite often on ancient Norse grave sites. Even in the best light, that's vague. Still, not the kind of symbol you'd scratch idly. It sounds quite threatening, in point of fact. So I used it that way.
I know I keep on saying this, but I'll say it again. Fishlegs is OOC intentionally because his character as its written is the comic relief for little kids who watch the show. This story is not written with that same audience in mind, and I needed to give him an edge.