Chapter 6: The Petition

Two days later. . .

Bucket walks through Berk, glancing out over the sea. Suddenly, he gasps. His friend Mulch walks up beside him. "What is it, Buck-?" he tried to ask before the Viking with a bucket cried out.

"Trader Johann is here. Trader Johann!" Bucket rushes to the docks, where Johann is standing on the wall of his ship, sailing to Berk. Down on the boat, Johan spots Bucket, and gives a merry wave as he meets the sand. "Ah, Berk, my favorite of all the islands I travel to."

Bucket shakes in excitement. "Where have you been this time, Johann?"

Trader Johann smiles. "Oh, Bucket, the things I've seen, the people I've met!" he replied dramatically. "I'd need a week to regale you, but alas, we have limited time to conduct our business together. Whatever it is you're looking for I can assure you you'll find it here!"

Berkians come rushing on deck. Snotlout appears, taking stock. "It's all mine. I call dibs on everything." he said dramatically.

Trader Johann goes on speaking to the crowd. "I've got food of all sorts, spices, exotic animals. . ."

Tuffnut shoves past him. "Is that moving? Does that one move? Whoa!"

Trader Johann frowns at the teen before turning to the crowd. "Works of art, jewelry, not to mention, knowledge."

Fishlegs walks to him and holds up a volume. "Trader Johann, is this your only book on botany?"

The trader nods his head. "Yes, Mr. Fishlegs. Why, it was given to me by the author himself."

Hiccup wanders on board, examining a glass inkpot. Trader Johann quickly spots the Berkian heir. "Oh, that's pure squid ink, Hiccup. Wrestled from the colossal squid of the Northern waters." he said proudly before rubbing his shoulder and rotates his arm.

"Well, how about this spyglass? I made it myself." Hiccup draws a spyglass from his satchel.

Trader Johann nods his head politely. "I know. You've given me five just like it." he points out. "Unfortunately, I've only got the two eyes. What else have you got?"

Hiccup pulls out a small winch from his satchel next. "What do you think of this winch? Eh? It will help you pull up your gangplank."

Trader Johann smiles at him. "A welcome tool for a working man's ailing shoulder." he takes the tool. "Consider it done."

Stoick steps onto the ship, a frown etched on his face. Tuffnut goes racing by, bumping into the chief, who scowls darkly.

Tuffnut chuckles nervously. "Heh, heh, sorry Chief." he runs away.

Johann notices the large chief. "Chief Stoick!" he greets with a bow. "Tell me, what might be the cause of your dark mood?"

Stoick sighs. "It's nothing, Johann. Just a thing of dragons."

Trader Johann nodded in understanding. "Ah, say no more, Chief. See anything that might interest you?" he asked.

Stoick rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you've got a Monstrous Nightmare stashed away." he remarked.

Johann shakes his head. "I'm afraid not, but I do have this rare Terror." He holds up a hand and gestures to his side.

Hiccup looks over. Johann indicates a green-iron cage, sitting on a table. Just beside it, Tuffnut and Snotlout are wrestling over a bludgeon.

Snotlout demanded. "Give it!"

Tuffnut shook his head and pulled on the bludgeon. "No! I need it!"

Snotlout pulled it back to him. "I need it for my dad!"

Tuffnut scowled and protested. "You get him one every year!"

Snotlout nods his head. "Yeah, because I know what he likes! Now, give it!" he pulls on the bludgeon again. The two strike the table and yelp, falling to the floor along with the cage.

Vikings wince as several of Johann's goods rattle on tables and shelves. Spitelout's wife strikes her forehead with her palm nearby.

The door to the cage bursts open, and the Terror shoots out, blue of scale and on a mission. People on the deck cry out, reaching for swords and axes, but Johann stands calmly.

Hiccup's eyes widen, and he glances quickly at Stoick, then at the Terror, stepping towards it.

Just as the Terror clears the boat– it's jerked back by a chain attached to a collar around its throat. The Terror makes a high, choking sound, and pulls against the chain, flying determinedly towards the sea, but makes no progress.

Stoick raises an eyebrow.

Hiccup winces.

Trader Johann nods his head. "Yes, I've had to employ a chain, for the beast has a curious knack for escaping the cage and always takes off in that direction with wild fervor." he explains to the chief. "Quite aggressive. But I thought I might find some interest in the Northern Markets. . . " He pauses in thought. "Though I am happy to help you restock your Arena, Chief Stoick."

Stoick shakes his head and mutters, "I doubt Astrid wants to slay a Terror in place of a Nightmare." But he was looking curiously at the Terror.

Just beside Stoick, slightly out of sight, Hiccup, too, was looking at the dragon, hands twitching at his sides like he was longing to gather in up and help it back down. The dragon was still straining against the chain.

Stoick rose an eyebrow. "That direction every time, you say?" he asked thoughtfully.

Trader Johann nods his head. "Indeed. For about the past hundred leagues." he replied. "He's rowdier at night, but there have been a few incidents while the sun is high. A nasty one. He could prove a challenge for–"

Stoick cuts him off. "I'll take it."

Hiccup blinks and looks to his father in surprise. "What?" he asked but he wasn't heard. After all that trouble to empty the Kill Ring, Stoick was already adding a new dragon to the collection.

Stoick turns to Gobber and gestures to the caged Terror. "Gobber, attach this chain to a rowboat and row out as far as Berk's own borders." He orders. "I want to know where this Terror is so desperate to fly."

. . .Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. he thought to himself as he thought about all the dragons that reside in the Nes combined with the Queen. Hiccup laughs uneasily. "Dad, come on, we don't need–"

Gobber salutes his friend. "Ay, ay, Chief." Then, Gobber turns to Hiccup, lowering his voice. "He's losing it."

Hiccup shakes his head and walks forward. "Here, give it to me." He can hope that no one can hear the twinge of desperation in his voice, see the way the boy is already grabbing for the Terror without an answer.

Stoick blinked and rose an eyebrow. "What?"

Hiccup looked up to Stoick. "I'll take the rowboat. Give me the Terror."

Stoick shakes his head. "Gobber'll do it."

"But–" Hiccup tries to protest but is cut off with the two-limbed blacksmith speaking. "Think an old cripple can't man a rowboat, eh?" Gobber asked jokingly. "I'll have you know I'm pretty spry for a one-armed fella my age."

Hiccup watches as Stoick trades a sword for the Terror, and as he and Gobber leash the chain the front of a rowboat. The Terror hisses and spits all the while, but has been outfitted with a tiny muzzle, and as such, does no true harm.

Minutes later, Snotlout steps off the gangplank with his bludgeon, looking towards the horizon.

Snotlout furrows his brow. "What the heck is he doing?" he asked.

In the distance, Gobber is rowing from Berk's shores, the Terrible Terror straining still in the direction of Helheim's gate.

Snotlout shakes his head. "Crazy old man." he mutters.

Then, Snotlout looks down the shore. On the sand, Hiccup stands alone with crossed arms, just at the water's edge. The wind steals by and ruffles his hair, but the boy moves not even to blink. His eyes follow the little rowboat, and the squeaking Terror.

Snotlout blinks and shakes his head. "Weird."

Outside the Great Hall, voices filter in, shifting suddenly through the walls and into the Hall. Stoick stands before his wooden throne, and Vikings murmur.

Stoick presses his finger forcefully into the map, enunciating each word with a stab. "The Terror can lead the ships."

One Viking leans over to the ear of another, and whispers. "He's losin' it."

Gobber snickers. Not hearing that, Stoick continues. "We set aside days for the killing of the Nightmare and the following celebrations. That won't happen, now. There is still time to sail before ice takes the sea."

One Viking spoke up. "Even still, it's getting' too cold for that now, Stoick! The wind will freeze my important bits!"

One Viking rolls his eyes "Like you've got any!" he jabbed to the man who spoke.

Another Viking protests. "If we're gone too long, the sails will begin to freeze!"

"We could be stranded!"

"How many ships are we going to lose to a hunt for the Nest?"

Stoick shakes his head. "Listen, all of you! How many excursions have failed? How many ships have we steered into rocks in that wretched fog?" he asked the crowd. "How many times has the Gate spit us out some hundred leagues from Berk? We've never touched the Nest, not even close, not through those rocks."

The same Viking from before mutters under his breath. "And he wants us to try again now because. . ."

Stoick rolled his eyes. Obviously, he was getting to that part, thank you. "The beasts find the Nest!"

Bucket nods his head. "Yeah, Stoick, because they live there!"

Stoick softens his voice. "Yes, Bucket, because they live there."

Horak shakes his head at Stoick. "The beasties can fly over the rocks, Chief, we can't!"

Stoick shakes his head. "But the rocks don't dam up the sea. There's a way through them. Chained, the beast can guide us!" he said adamantly.

It is clear the Chief had hoped more would find clarity in his explanation, but there is only more heavy silence, more wary looks. Stoick sighs. "Gobber, you sailed the boat, tell them."

Unaware to the gathered warriors, at the very back of the Hall, the doors creak open. A shaft of light hits the floor, gone in an instant.

Hiccup peeks around a tall wooden beam, hidden by the shadows, behind the crowd. There had been no young ones inside that Hall, the children had been forbidden. Of course, such orders meant nothing to Hiccup.

He was friends with dragons, kind of, so it was natural that he would feel a need to hear what was said within, concerning dragons.

Gobber scratches his head with his hook hand. "Well, I suppose it's true, the little beastie wanted only to fly straight and fast towards Helheim's gate–"

Mildew suddenly speaks up. "And what if the Terror nests in some high sea stack, or a random crag? What if it doesn't lead us to the nest at all?"

Spitelout rolls his eyes on Stoick's left. "Well, lucky for you, Mildew, you aren't like to accompany the ships. Tend to your cabbages and let us speak of dragons and wars." he said.

Next to Stoick, the blacksmith snickers. Stoick has a smidge of respect for that little barb, but Mildew is glaring, and he can't risk smirking at his brother.

Mildew points a finger at Spitelout. "I won't hear disrespect from you, Jorgenson. Not a word of it, to your elder. I remember you as a squalling babe." he sneered.

Spitelout rolls his eyes. "We get it, you're ancient."

Mildew gasps and looks sharply to Stoick who has no reaction while the crowd all laughs. The Viking elder glares and speaks to the chief. "You'll kill us all, Stoick! You'll lead our ships to death, and then there will be no one to defend us come the next raid–"

Stoick shouts over him. "We're dying' already!" The Chief's words thunder out over the Vikings, echoing off the walls of the Hall. With them, all mutters die. Some mouths fall open, some heads turn to take stock of others, to see if they all heard the same thing.

Hiccup's brows furrow from his hiding place, confused.

The Chief looks around, almost appearing as though he regrets his words, but he continues. "We won't last much longer like this. I've counted our flocks of sheep a dozen times. Their numbers are growing smaller by the year, and the milk of the yaks comes less. The hens scarcely lay, and the price of eggs by ship has only gone up. Our beasts of burden sit terrified of dragons, and by it, they give us less milk, less meat and fleece, fewer eggs, and fewer offspring. Our own numbers, too, shrink."

Stoick holds the rapt attention of the Vikings. Some, the shepherds and farmers, give nods to the others, reinforcing the truth of Stoick's words. Others who have lost loved ones bow their heads.

Hiccup appears at Stoick's right side, hidden still behind a pillar. The boy has been racing in the shadows, moving closer to his father where he sits at the high table. He listens. His eyes are just a smidge wide, and he presses to the pillar, waiting for Stoick to say more.

Had Stoick known Hiccup was hiding, he would have stopped his little speech entirely. The kids were not meant to hear this! It was a problem of adults, a horror for the parents to tackle. Children were not meant to be saddled with it.

But alas, Stoick did not know that his son was in the room, standing behind him in the shadows. "Our forests grow thinner. We cannot afford, by resource or manpower, to keep building new halls. The beasts burned a field of crops a decade back, and we've had half the grain ever since. Two wells were poisoned by the last Flightmare, and now we labor in lines for the only two that still draw up clear water." he said grimly. "Our food is lacking; our supplies are lacking. We have little to trade and little to live off, and such quantities shrink with every raid."

People look up to Stoick with fear in their eyes. One hesitant Viking steps forward. "How long, Chief?"

Stoick looks to the man and closes his eyes. "A few more years, perhaps."

The Great Hall erupts into shouting. Vikings throw their arms to the sky and cry out, grabbing each other, pushing close to the high table. Hiccup grows startled by the din, throwing himself back against the wall in order to escape the sudden press of bodies close to his concealed spot. He does not move from that position, staring, unflinching, at his father. There is horror in his eyes.

Stoick's voice rises above. "It is why I demand action now! Berk will not wither!"

The Vikings look to him, calming a little. Their chief has a plan. Their Chief has a plan! The Chief continues. "We can do this. We finally have a way to find the home of dragons. . . and Berk has the power to smash it."

Hiccup shakes his head. He wants to protest. He wants to speak against what his father is doing. No, we don't. We are no gods.

The young teen sees the Vikings nod, they begin to smile, they shake their fear off and replace it with bravery, for Berk will not go out in a puff of smoke, but in a raging fire, if that is what it takes.

Stoick looks at the crowd with a determined gaze. "So, who's with me?" And Berk shakes her fist in a war cry that echoes off the ceiling of the Great Hall.

Should anyone turn their gaze on Hiccup's hiding spot, they wouldn't have seen anything, for the boy has vanished.

The next day

The docks rise up from the waves, alight with the clamor of Vikings. Not a single ship of the fleet sits unmanned, and Vikings cross the decks with arms full of swords, spears, and lances. The sails are pulled high, men give their last checks of the rigging. It is near time for the fleet to depart.

Stoick steps back, wiping sweat from his brow and taking stock of the ships. He zeroes in on the blue, muzzled terror, tethered by its chain to the very foremost ship. The dragon strains still towards Helheim's gate.

Gobber steps up beside Stoick, clearing his throat pointedly. Stoick blinks in confusion. "What?"

Gobber only clears his throat again, louder, using his eyes to glance almost painfully behind the Chief. Bewildered, Stoick turns around.

Hiccup stands on the docks, a lone spot of stillness and silence amongst the commotion, out of place. His eyes find Spitelout, standing with his hands on the shoulders of Snotlout, exchanging a goodbye. Across the way, he finds Astrid in a similar position with her father, giving the man a quick, rare hug as he prepares to depart, which the warrior returns.

A bit of Stoick shrivels. He was never the sort of father to hug Hiccup, or to do much more than pat him on the back. A gesture that more often than not, sends the boy reeling.

But the fleet was sailing off as one on a hunt to the dragon's nest, to a war on dragons. He realizes what Gobber wants him to do. He should go to Hiccup to say goodbye. To assure him that his father would return, even if he doesn't quite believe it himself. Stoick had always thought himself proud, with little time for such sentiments, but even his brother and the Hofferson patriarch stood by their children and exchanged hugs and words.

Stoick glances at Gobber, who waves his arms–almost 'shooing' the chief on. Stoick walks up to Hiccup but pauses a good few feet away. Hiccup blinks, surprised, for he'd been looking at the Terror.

Stoick sighs. The two regard each other for a moment, before Stoick turns awkwardly to face the sea. Hiccup frowns, glancing too towards the water, in the opposite direction.

Down the dock, Gobber drags a hand down his face, looking skyward to the gods. Stoick catches this, glancing at Hiccup, and finds the boy still looking into the water. The Chief clears his throat, and straightens up. "Hiccup–"

Hiccup cuts him off, "It's not going to work." He throws his eyes suddenly from the water with fierce determination. Stoick blinks. Hiccup's face falls suddenly, all confidence evaporating. "Sorry, I shouldn't have. . . Dad, don't go."

Stoick chuckles, grasping his belt buckle, and Hiccup closes his eyes in anticipation. "There's no need for worry, son. I've seen more battles than–"

Hiccup interjects again, now full of frustration. He speaks fast, with anger behind his words. "You've never been to the nest. You don't even know if you'll find it now! You don't know what dragons lie there, or how many. What if something goes wrong, what if you're stuck out there–"

Stoick frowns. "Hiccup." But the boy only raises his voice over his father's. "–and the ice sets in? What if you all freeze? How–"

Stoick tries to speak over him. "Hiccup."

Hiccup rambles on. "–will we lead a rescue mission if the ocean is–"

"Hiccup!" Hiccup's mouth snaps closed as Stoick's shout rings out around. Gobber looks over, decidedly not appreciating the turn the conversation has taken.

Stoick sighs and tries to speak calmly. "It's fine. This is just like any other excursion, with more men to boot. All the safer. I'll be back. Probably."

The Chief tries to fall back into his prior promise, perhaps for some levity, a bit of a joke, a comfort to his son in the only way Stoick can really manage– but Hiccup is this time unwilling to accept it. Hiccup's hands go to fists, and he meets his father's eyes. "No."

Stoick's eyes widen, just a fraction–quite a reaction from the usually stone-cold man.

Gobber's jaw drops, and the few Vikings who are close enough to hear pause their motions and look at the heir. No one has ever heard such defiance from Hiccup, and certainly not directed at Stoick. Especially Stoick. "No?" he repeats.

Stoick gives his son a chance to back down, to retreat, but Hiccup doesn't take it. Hiccup is fueled by frustration, fueled by fear. The child may be surrounded by warriors great and tall, by a fleet of warships and the burning determination of hundreds of Vikings, but he alone knows the truth of the nest. He cannot stop.

Hiccup reiterates, "No, you don't know that." And then, "You're not listening to me."

Dad, please, for once in my life, PLEASE listen to me.

Other Vikings are beginning to look over. Stoick notices, his eyes roam around. His own people are spotting this debacle: Stoick unable to 'control' his child, Stoick being openly disrespected by his runty little son.

The chief's voice lowers warningly. "Hiccup, that's enough. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Neither do you!" Stoick is taken aback– and Hiccup plows on.

It's almost pathetic, how speechless he'd been rendered by just a bit of strength in Hiccup's voice. "You're taking all the ships and all the Vikings and leading them with a. . .a Terrible Terror! It's the most ridiculous–"

And Stoick's mood darkens dangerously. He leans in close. "Are you calling your father ridiculous?"

Hiccup only tilts his face to meet Stoick's, a burning glare meeting Stoick's in answer. "Of course not. I would never call my father ridiculous."

Almost there, almost safe, but then. . . "I'm calling my chief ridiculous."

Gobber's face pops up in the small space between the chief and heir, placing a hand on both of them. "Ooookay. I seem to have stepped into a wee bit of a misunderstanding."

Odin bless Gobber.

Hiccup rolls his eyes, and the sight has Stoick's fists clenching–but Hiccup steps back as he does it, accepting his father's thick-headedness. Accepting that there will be no getting through. Gobber blows out a breath at the separation between the two and turns to his old friend. "Stoick, Hiccup would like to say that he'll miss you, and wishes that we'll find that Thor-forsaken dragon's nest," he says. "So you can stop taking out your frustrations on everyone, namely poor Gobber."

Hiccup shakes his head, peeved, glaring at the sea.

Stoick stares dead ahead, stoic.

Gobber deflates. He turns to Hiccup instead. "Stoick wants to tell you, he'll be thinking' of you the whole time, so keep up on yer training, don't throw a house party, and he'll do his best not to be eaten by a sea-serpent or dragon–"

Images of the 'queen' at the nest flash suddenly by, alight with red and the music of roars. Hiccup's glare slides off his face, and his eyes take on a more terrified cast.

Gobber doesn't notice Hiccup's reaction and continues in a cheerful/nonchalant tone. "–but if he does, well, you know, that's that!"

Stoick breaks in, gruff, not so much as looking at his son. "We're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard."

With a considerable bit more cheer, Gobber repeats him. "We're Vikings! It's an occupational hazard."

The Chief shoves past, headed for a boat. "I said that part."

Gobber frowns and shrugs at the back of the chief. "Oh. Sorry for helping." he grumbled and hobbled off.

Stoick tosses his bag down into a ship, and then hops in, looking purposefully ahead. This boat is one of the last to break from the docks, the Chief having stayed back to oversee the fleet's departure. The boat begins to move, and Stoick stares ahead–but then sighs, turning around.

"Hiccup, I–" But the man stops, cutting off. The hustle and bustle has overtaken the docks again, and Hiccup is already gone. Stoick's words die, and he closes his mouth.

The ships, the fleet in all its glory–sets sail roughly an hour later slowly fades out as the last ship disappears over the horizon.

High up on the cliff, the teens of Berk sit on planks and watch the ships leave. Even Hiccup sits near the group. Snotlout crosses his arms. "My father promised he'd bring me back a Nightmare skull. The biggest one in the Nest, to hang above my bed." he said with a grin.

Ruffnut raises an eyebrow at him. "You want to hang up the skull, of a dragon you didn't even kill?"

Snotlout blinks and falters. "Well–no, it's a gift! To honor my father!"

Tuffnut snickers. "If anyone's gonna get a skull, it's probably gonna be Hiccup." He jams his thumb over his shoulder, indicating where Hiccup sits behind them, studying the sea.

Upon hearing his name mentioned, Hiccup glances at Tuffnut, confused.

Snotlout frowns. "Why does Hiccup get a skull?"

Ruffnut shakes her head and deadpans at the Jorgenson boy. "Duh, cause Stoick is the Chief. He'll probably kill a hundred dragons and bring them all back for Hiccup's room." she looks to the heir. "Right Hiccup?"

Hiccup sighs. "I don't want any dragon skulls, Ruffnut." A part of him thinks that this is the most pleasant conversation he had with the others ever since Hiccup joined the Forge at six years old.

Ruffnut tilts her head. "Why?"

Fishlegs speaks up. "He probably wants to kill them himself! Like a real dragon conqueror!"

Hiccup wants to shake his head and shout that NO, he definitely does not.

Tuffnut grins and points to Snotlout. "Unlike Snot!"

Snotlout looks offended. "Hey! Hiccup's not a dragon conqueror. He lost the final test. Astrid had to save him from being eaten by the Gronckle, and that was just a Gronckle!" he said in a condensing tone.

Hiccup frowns. The lads were cousins, and yet Snotlout was always the first to begin the jests. The only time he had shown Hiccup anything like friendship had been when the boy was excelling in Dragon Training.

Astrid scowls at Snotlout, which wasn't out of the norm for the teens. "Shut up, Snotlout. Hiccup was doing really well." she said defensively.

. . .That was new.

Snotlout looked surprised but shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, anyway. My dad promised me a skull when he comes back."

Ruffnut mutters under her breath. "If he comes back."

Snotlout glowered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tuffnut rolls his eyes. The answer should have been obvious. "Come on. They're sailing to The Dragon's Nest! It's gonna be a battle for the songs!" Tuffnut throws his arms out, and his sister chimes in.

Ruffnut nods her head. "Yeah! A bloodbath of fire, claws, swords, and death. Man, I wish we were going." she sulks at that.

Ah, the naivete of youth thought Hiccup as rolled his eyes. And. . . whatever the Thorston family had in their bloodline.

Fishlegs snaps his head over. "Death?" he asked.

Ruffnut deadpanned, arms held up. "Well, duh."

Tuffnut nods in agreement. "Vikings die in the raids all the time."

Fishlegs looks down. "Yeah, I guess that's true. . ."

Tuffnut continues on, "But at the Nest, it might be so much worse!"

Hiccup shook his head. What is wrong with those kids? It was sort of eerie, how spot on the twins really were about the potential 'bloodbath'.

Ruffnut nods. "Yeah. I hope Mom'll be okay." she stated.

Tuffnut's excitement falters. "Yeah...and Dad."

Snotlout shakes his head. "Oh, come off it, you guys!"

But Fishlegs is worked up and nervous now, and bites anxiously at his nails. "It's true. Berk hasn't taken the entire fleet to war in decades. Plus, there's no true account of how many dragons dwell at the Nest...all of Berk's Vikings may not be enough..."

Hiccup stares, soaking in all of Fishlegs words. Oh, great, now Fishlegs is filling my head with more worries.

Snotlout speaks vehemently. "Of course, it'll be enough! They're Vikings! Berk can crush Nightmares and Nadders, no problem!"

Hiccup finds his voice. "And what if there are more than Nightmares and Nadders?" All eyes turn, even Astrid's, to Hiccup behind them.

Hiccup doesn't look at any of them, still looking after the now-invisible boats, and Snotlout scoffs at his cousin. "Yeah, right. Like what?"

Hiccup bites his lip but says nothing. Snotlout rolls his eyes and nods, turning away from the smaller boy. "Exactly."

It's a little hurtful be brushed aside so easily, especially when a) he is right and b)Snotlout is family. Hiccup could have won the argument, gods, he could have done more than that, with what he knew. . .but he kept quiet.

Fishlegs breaks in again. "But what about the casualties! My mom went there!"

Ruffnut spoke up, "And your dad."

Fishlegs nods his head with a fearful look. "And my dad!"

Hiccup almost wants to snort. That's your dad you're treating as an afterthought there, Fish.

Snotlout laughs. "Aww, is little Fishy worried about his mommy?"

Fishlegs glares. "Your mom went too, Snotlout."

Snotlout thumps a fist to his chest. "My mom's a warrior, she'll be fine." He puffs out his chest. . . but deflates his lungs a second later, suddenly anxious. He regards the ocean with uncertainty.

Astrid stands, hands on her hips. "Fishlegs! Relax! All of you, seriously." she says to them all. "Our parents will be fine. They know what they're up against."

But the children were right to fear, more than any of them knew. Hiccup's face stares silently, barren of any emotions, a blank wall. Hiccup stands suddenly, walking back to Berk, before he breaks into an unexpected sprint, darting away.

Snotlout frowns. "Hey, where is he going? " He scoffs and looks away. "Can't even keep watch on the ocean. . . Useless." he muttered.

Astrid socks him in the arm. Snotlout exclaimed. "Hey!"

Hiccup runs up the planks, into the streets of Berk, and doesn't once look back. He doesn't look back when he races between two elders, nor when he stumbles over a cart nor when Astrid appears behind him, calling his name.

Astrid stands just where the planks meet the dirt, and shouts after him. "Hiccup, wait up! Where are you–?"

But by the time she gives chase, Hiccup rounds a corner, and is gone.

Astrid takes off, following him, and takes the same turn between two houses. From there, she looks briefly around, before aiming her sprint up the hill to the chieftain's house. As her shadow darts by, the boy is crashing through the undergrowth, shouldering through ferns and ducking under trees.

As Astrid runs through Berk, Hiccup takes on the forest, pushing his legs as fast as he can. The clumsy boy finds gnarled roots and holes in the earth, arms flailing as much as they pump, and finally goes down over one such divot, crashing to the grass and weeds.

Hiccup doesn't so much as yelp, immediately throwing himself from the ground and racing up again, panting, undeterred.

Finally, when the woods grow thicker and the cove looms ahead, Hiccup cups a hand around his mouth. "Toothless! Gojira!"

And inside the cove, the Night Fury and giant Saurian, settled down for a nap, lift their heads in unison as Hiccup comes to a sudden stop at the very lip of the cove, arms wheeling to keep from falling over the edge, breathing hard.

So, there's that.

Johann makes an appearance with a Terrible Terror in a cage and Stoick gets an idea to sail to Dragon Island. And he gets everyone on his side via revealing that the people of Berk will die off on their own unless they do something.

Hiccup tries to talk Stoick out of it, because he knows what's at the Nest, but his father doesn't listens to him. So he decides to take matters into his own hands with his friends.

Next: Helheim's Gate