Chapter 1: Here Comes the Fun Part
Chapter Text
Over the wind that whistled in his ears, Hiccup could hear Toothless' horrified roars. But they were distant, and Hiccup knew that he and his dragon were too far apart. There would be no saving each other this time, no connecting at the last minute to shoot triumphantly back into the sky. This time, there was nowhere to go but down.
Hiccup shielded his face with his arms. He broke the tree line.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Thinner branches snapped on impact, the ones just out of reach hissing menacingly as he whipped past on his inexorable arc towards the earth. A heavy branch slammed into his stomach and did not break; he flipped over it instead. Branches beat him from all sides. Twigs scratched and tore greedily at his clothes.
Was Toothless-?
The sun was beginning to dip over the horizon, a line of red spilling across the ocean. Astrid sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the landing strip in front of the stables. She watched the sky carefully as it darkened.
Footsteps approached her from behind. "Not back yet?" asked Snotlout.
Astrid didn't bother answering.
Snotlout scoffed. "Yeah, that figures. We finally convince him to take a break, and now he doesn't even wanna come back."
Astrid bit her lip, watching the purple clouds that drifted around the blood red sun like smoke. There was no dark shape among them. No swirl of clouds as Hiccup and Toothless streaked through them towards home. "Do you think that's it?" she asked.
"Huh?"
"The reason they aren't back yet. You think they're just enjoying themselves?"
Snotlout dropped down beside her, his legs hanging over the edge, too. "Yeah," he said. "They're just having a little too much fun without us." But something about his tone was off.
Astrid cast a sideways glance in his direction. He was watching the horizon, too, jaw set, brow wrinkled.
A rush of wings and a thud came from behind them, followed by two smaller thuds. Barf and Belch rumbled playfully. Neither Astrid nor Snotlout turned.
"Is this the welcoming party?" Ruffnut asked, as she and her brother sat on either side of Astrid and Snotlout.
Tuffnut grunted disapprovingly. "Doesn't look like a party," he said. "What, are we mad at Hiccup or something?"
Astrid folded her arms. "Yeah, I'm mad at him for not showing up on time. He said he'd be back today."
"Well, it is still today," Ruffnut offered.
Astrid glared at her.
"Yeah, I'm sure they'll come rocketing through those clouds any minute now," Tuffnut added. "All stealthy and cool."
The four of them looked around at the nearby clouds expectantly.
"There!" Ruffnut shouted, after a minute. The rest of them turned to see a patch of gray clouds that was swirling with the distinct movement that signaled an approaching dragon.
Astrid stood up, letting out a long breath, while Snotlout grumbled, "About time."
The clouds churned in the displaced air, and then Meatlug and Fishlegs melted out of the darkness.
"Aw, come on!" Ruffnut pouted. Astrid sat back down hard.
Meatlug landed neatly on the strip, and Fishlegs dismounted in such a hurry that he fell over. He struggled to his feet and ran over to them.
"Hiccup's not back yet?" he asked breathlessly. "I thought... I thought he would be back."
"Yeah, join the club," Snotlout said.
"But he said he'd be back." Fishlegs stood behind Snotlout and Astrid, wringing his hands. "He said he'd be back today."
"It's still today!" the twins chorused.
Fishlegs ignored them and sat down, watching the sun steadily diminish into the ocean. "Um... at what point should we start to worry?" he asked, his voice high-pitched and strained.
"You're late to the game, my friend." Tuffnut jerked a thumb in Astrid and Snotlout's direction. "They started without you."
"I'm not worried!" Snotlout snapped.
"Should we... I dunno, do something?" Fishlegs' frown deepened as the sun finally disappeared, dousing the world in a cold, unfriendly gray. "It's really getting late now, and I definitely recall Hiccup saying he'd be back in the afternoon."
Astrid shook her head. "We should give them til morning. Maybe they had to wait out a storm or something."
Fishlegs nodded. "Yeah, of course," he said. "They're just waiting out a storm. That's definitely it. They're fine. I'm sure they're fine."
"You don't sound very sure," Ruffnut muttered.
"I bet this trip was really good for them." Fishlegs continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I mean, it had to have been! They needed this break. And besides, we convinced them to take it, so- so if anything goes wrong, then... then it's our fault." He swallowed audibly.
"Ugh! Fishlegs!" Snotlout balled his hands into fists. "Just relax! Gods!"
"Okay, okay." Fishlegs ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. "You're right. Relax. Just relax." He took a deep breath. "In fact, I'm sure that's what Hiccup and Toothless are doing. I bet they're just having a nice relaxing night, lying under the stars. Relaxed and totally safe. Far away from Krogan, or Johann, or any Flyers, or any wild and menacing dragons, or any random catastrophic event like a storm or an eruption or a landslide, or-" He stopped. The other riders were all staring at him, wide-eyed. "What?"
"Way to go, Fishface." Snotlout's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Now it'll be super easy to wait until morning. I don't know about you guys, but I feel really relaxed!" He stood and stormed off towards his hut.
Astrid sighed. "It's gonna be a long night."
Birds. He could hear them at a distance - the echoing croaks of ravens. But they weren't really at a distance, were they? In fact, they were close. Too close?
Hiccup felt a rush of wind near his face, and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in the darkness, beneath the stars. A raven had hopped up onto his chest, and was watching him inquisitively. A small squawk to his right alerted him to the presence of another, and he turned his head to watch it. It was facing away from him, examining his outstretched arm, peering closely at the fingers of his dirty, bloodied hand.
It pecked him.
“Ah!” Hiccup cried, jolting. The two birds flew off immediately, shrieking their dismay. Hiccup let his raised head thud back onto the hard earth. He groaned quietly; everything ached. Above him, ominous black branches stretched into his line of sight, their edges silhouetted sharply in the starlight. The ravens croaked in the distance. Carrion birds. They had thought him dead.
Hiccup tried to take in a deep breath to calm himself, but found that it only increased his pain. He dragged his left hand up onto his chest and felt around lightly. The leather of his riding gear was scratched in places; he traced the shallow grooves with his fingertips. It was all intact. No open wounds. That was good, at least. Maybe. He let out a slow breath, riding through the pain. Bruised ribs, he guessed. None broken, as far as he could tell.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Here we go." With massive effort, he sat up and looked around. The landscape was empty and haunting. The trees were bare, their misshapen trunks and branches sticking out at horrible angles. There was no foliage. No creature made a sound beside the ravens.
Hiccup swept his hand around in the dirt and rubbed his fingers together. He brought it to his nose. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and lingered on his tongue. There had been a fire here. Hiccup wiped the ashy dirt off on his pants.
First things first: he had to find Toothless. Hiccup braced himself with his hands and moved to stand up. He stopped. His right side was itching horribly. He felt around with his hand. It caught on something, and he hissed as a bolt of pain shot through him. He leaned over and squinted in the dim starlight, trying to get a look.
"Oh, gods." A small bit of wood was sticking out of his side. It had embedded itself clean through the leather of his riding gear. Hiccup closed his eyes. He took a few moments to compose himself, and then looked again. The portion that was jutting out was short and not horribly thick. He let his hand hover over it, not wanting to touch it again. Instead, he brushed his fingers around the wound. There was blood there, but not too much.
Hiccup grit his teeth and braced himself again, this time managing to get all the way to his feet. He would deal with that bit of wood later, once he had found Toothless. His saddlebag had all of their medical supplies in it, and Hiccup didn't want to risk pulling the piece of wood out without those supplies nearby. He had heard stories of vikings pulling little fragments of debris out of themselves, only to bleed out in minutes. He would much rather play it safe.
Now, the next problem. Which way should he go to find Toothless? He knew he had fallen in front of Toothless, so if he tracked back, he should be able to get to his dragon. But he had no idea which direction he had fallen from. He considered the wood in his side again. Right. Branches.
He unsheathed his sword. It lit up in a blaze of fire, but the moonless night was so dark that it hardly helped. The deep orange glow illuminated a meager radius. Hiccup held it up and looked at the tree branches above him, broken from his fall. He walked in an arbitrary direction and checked the next tree. No broken branches. Correcting course, he tried the other direction and found that the next tree over had some broken branches a bit higher up. Good. He was going the right way now, following the trajectory of his descent. If he kept in the same direction, with any luck, he would stumble upon Toothless.
His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he wondered if Toothless should have found him already. Why hadn't he? What was keeping him? Hiccup shook his head. There was no sense worrying about it. He would find Toothless first, and then see what their situation was like. He prayed silently that Toothless was unharmed as he crept onwards.
The circle of light that his sword provided shifted and deformed as a sudden gust of wind sprung up around him. The flames roared, leaping wildly, creating sharp shadows that flickered in and out of existence as the light moved. But the wind that whistled through the bare trees around him began to make a different sound - a frantic rustling. Leaves in the wind. There was unburnt forest up ahead.
As Hiccup edged forward, tips of brown, living branches melted out of the darkness, outlined with dark green needles. He took a breath, lowered his sword, and shouldered his way into the forest. Here, it was thicker - the trees pressed more closely together, their limbs and needles snagging at him as he passed. Occasionally, two specks of light would appear out of the darkness, his firelight reflecting off of the eyes of some forest creature, invisible in the dark except for its disembodied stare as it watched him. But the eyes would vanish just as quickly, hurried footsteps crunching in the undergrowth.
Another gust of wind kicked up, moaning through the spaces between the trees. The surrounding pines creaked like a ship at sea. With every step forward, Hiccup could see only the edges of trees and the thick, tangled undergrowth beneath him. There was no telling what lay in the darkness beyond.
Hiccup's breaths - ragged and harsh as he stumbled onwards - seemed too loud for the night. He wondered if Toothless could hear him coming, could hear each breath he managed to take, each footstep as he forced himself further, each flicker of the agitated firelight as the wind swept through, pulling on Hiccup's hair and clothes like an unseen hand from the shadows.
"Toothless?" His voice was a hollow whisper, snatched away by the wind. He cleared his throat and gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, willing his frenzied heartbeat to slow. "Toothless!"
A raven cawed angrily at the disruption of the heavy silence. Little creatures scurried away in the trees, claws scrabbling on bark. And then Hiccup heard it - a low, draconic moan just discernible above the whispering wind.
"Toothless?" Hiccup started forward through the brush, then steadily increased his pace as he followed the direction of the muffled groans, propelled forward by a sudden inexplicable urge to hurry. A nameless feeling that something was closing in from behind, that safety lay ahead with Toothless, compelled him to run.
His prosthetic caught on an exposed root. Hiccup slammed to the ground on his knees and elbows, the impact jarring his bruised ribs and the wound in his side.
"Ah!" Spots appeared in his vision for a moment, and Hiccup blinked them away, breathing through clenched teeth. Toothless' concerned warbling was loud now, though still muffled. Hiccup dug his free hand into the earth, nails biting through grass, his grip tightening around moist soil and loose rock. With his other hand, he continued to hold his sword aloft, dimly aware that he should keep it away from anything that might catch fire.
He remained in the same position for what might have been several minutes, waiting for the pain to recede back to a more manageable level. Finally, when he felt well enough, and when Toothless' distressed sounds had morphed into an incessant wail of despair, Hiccup sat up.
Toothless quieted immediately. The ensuing silence filled with the creaking of rope. A large net swung directly in front of Hiccup, and in the firelight, he could just see the form of his dragon, tangled up awkwardly in its confines.
"Hey, bud!" A smile broke out across Hiccup's face as he stepped closer to the net, feeling instantly lighter. "You have no idea how good it is to see you!"
Toothless warbled happily and wriggled within the net, swinging it more. Maybe he did have an idea how good it felt.
"Okay, bud, hold still." Hiccup brought his flaming sword up to the net and began to cut through it carefully. When it had snapped apart sufficiently, he stepped back.
Toothless dropped out of the hole, got to his feet, and stretched.
"You all there, bud?"
Toothless made an affirmative sound and shook himself vigorously, unfurling his wings and tucking them in again. Then he advanced towards Hiccup with a questioning warble.
"Yeah, I'm, ah, a little worse for wear this time around." Hiccup stroked Toothless' head as the dragon leaned in close and sniffed him. When he got to the piece of wood in Hiccup's side, he let out a small distressed roar.
"Believe me, I noticed. But you've got all the medical supplies in your saddlebag, so I had to find you first." Hiccup scratched beneath his dragon's chin affectionately. Toothless rumbled and turned to give Hiccup access to the saddlebag.
Still holding his sword up for light, Hiccup fished around in the bag and pulled out the little sack that made up their medical kit. "Got it," he told Toothless. "The only problem is I can't really see what I'm doing." Hiccup frowned at the sword and medical bag in his hands. He doubted he had the strength - or the necessary movement - to build a fire.
Toothless hummed agreeably and then bounded off into the surrounding forest. Hiccup waited, listening to his dragon crashing around. In a minute, he was back with a large branch in his mouth. It reminded Hiccup forcibly of their first bonding moment, back in that little cove on Berk, and he smiled.
"What's your plan, bud?"
Toothless motioned Hiccup back towards the edge of their little open space and placed the branch beside him. With a clear wait here a moment kind of gesture, Toothless returned to the center of the space and began digging hastily, clumps of grass and plants and roots flinging into the air and disappearing into the darkness. In a matter of seconds, he had cleared a good sized area of all plant life; only dirt remained. He came back for the branch, dragged it into the middle, and then set it aflame with a tiny plasma blast. He laid down beside it and rumbled contentedly.
"Thanks, Toothless," Hiccup said fondly. He sheathed his sword, came into the clearing, and dropped the medical bag between Toothless and the fire. Then he stiffly and painfully lowered himself to the ground.
Toothless warbled sadly, watching his rider with large eyes.
"I'll be alright," Hiccup placated. "Just some bruised ribs. It'll heal." He sat up against Toothless, and then pulled a small dagger from its place in his clothes. The metal blade glinted harshly in the firelight. Hiccup stared down at the wood that was still very much present in his side, and then gripped the knife tighter. He glanced at Toothless, who crooned softly in a show of sympathy and support.
Hiccup let out a huff of breath. "Okay," he said. "Here comes the fun part."
Chapter 2: The Fun Part
Chapter Text
Fishlegs pored over his notes from the last dragon census on the Edge and tried to make sense of the numbers. Gronkles. Night Terrors. Changewings.
"Ugh, this is hopeless." He stood up and began to pace the length of the clubhouse. He couldn't focus on statistics any more than he could sleep. Was there nothing to distract him? Nothing to calm his frenzied thoughts? He stopped pacing as his gaze landed on their set of Maces and Talons. He swallowed. That made him think of Hiccup, too.
He walked slowly to the board as if in a dream, and picked up one of pieces. It was cold to the touch. The Viking-shaped piece glared up at him with an evil expression, its mouth open and its teeth bared in a silent, bloodthirsty war cry.
A single pair of light footsteps reached Fishlegs' ears, and he nearly dropped the piece. "Hiccup?!" He rushed over to the clubhouse entrance and peered into the darkness.
Astrid stood there with her arms folded around herself, watching Fishlegs with widened eyes. She shifted awkwardly while Fishlegs fought back the sting of bitter disappointment.
"Um, sorry," she said softly. "I was just..." She trailed off and gestured beyond the clubhouse. She had been walking by, and evidently hadn't expected or wanted to be spotted.
"No, no, it's fine." Fishlegs wondered if his voice sounded flat to her, too. He rocked back on his heels in the doorway and then asked, "Couldn't sleep?"
"No, I just-" Astrid stopped and sighed, her warrior's posture slumping until she looked younger, gentler. "Yeah," she whispered. She leaned against the side of the clubhouse, turning away from him and looking out at the night sky. It was a soft, surprisingly vulnerable stance that she sometimes adopted around Hiccup.
Fishlegs looked away, too, inexplicably feeling like he was intruding on a private moment.
"I slept a little," Astrid said, her voice floating over to him on the night breeze. "But then I had a dream."
Fishlegs stepped out of the doorway and leaned back against the clubhouse, echoing Astrid's pose. "I didn't dream," he said, "but I remembered." He watched the stars above them, silver pinpricks in the inky blackness. He and Astrid didn't look at each other, operating on an unspoken agreement in their shared vulnerability. "I started thinking about the time Hiccup dived into the strait to free that Submaripper. When we pulled him out of that diving bell after he nearly drowned." Fishlegs let out a slow, measured breath. "He just laid there. Completely still." He blinked up at the stars. "Viggo almost killed him that time."
A heavy silence passed between them, the seconds crawling by.
"That's what keeps me awake," Fishlegs said, after it became apparent that Astrid wouldn't or couldn't break the silence. "I mean, wild dragons or horrible storms or natural disasters - they're dangerous, sure. But..." Fishlegs clenched his fists. Sharp metal bit into his palm. He glanced down in vague surprise; he was still holding the Maces and Talons piece, the little metal Viking screaming up at him from the shadows. "There are people that want him dead, Astrid."
"I know." Astrid's voice was thin and fragile, like the last of the winter ice. "I know."
Toothless watched as Hiccup carefully removed the rest of his riding gear and discarded it. The strips of leather that he had painstakingly cut away were left sitting in his lap.
Hiccup picked up the knife again and began to slit his tunic, cutting deftly through the seam on his right side. When he had cut close to the wood that was still protruding from his side, he set the knife down, grabbed each end of the worn red fabric, and pulled.
With a quiet ripping sound, his tunic separated around the wound, exposing it finally to the open. As the torn fabric fluttered testily in the wind, Toothless caught glimpses of the rest of Hiccup's torso, some of it mottled with red - signs of fresh impact.
Toothless growled quietly.
Hiccup glanced up at him. "Yeah, I know, bud," he said, returning his attention to the leather strips in his lap. "It wasn't our best landing." His fingers fluttered for a moment, and then he selected a long strip. With his other hand, he offered his knife to Toothless. "Could you heat up the blade, please?"
Toothless warbled his curiosity at Hiccup, but obliged him nonetheless. The knife glowed white hot against the darkness.
Hiccup gulped. "Thanks."
Toothless rumbled back and watched as Hiccup placed the leather strip in his mouth, between his teeth. Toothless tilted his head, eyes narrowed. What was he doing?
Hiccup transferred the knife into his left hand, and moved his right towards the piece of wood sticking out of him. He hesitated. Then he glanced up at Toothless, eyes wide and oddly bright in the firelight. He let out a huff of breath that ruffled his bangs. Toothless recognized it as the same look Hiccup had given him just before taking his first step with his prosthetic leg.
Then Hiccup looked down, grabbed the piece of wood, and pulled. His cry of pain was muffled by the leather in his mouth. Blood began to pour out of the wound. Hiccup's hands shook.
And then he pressed the white-hot knife over the wound. It sizzled - actually sizzled - as Toothless roared in alarm. Yet somehow his roaring did nothing to cover the sound of Hiccup's agonized moans as he bit down hard on the leather strip between his teeth.
He pulled the knife away, let it drop into the dirt. There was now an angry burn mark rippling his skin. Breathing in horrible gasps, Hiccup reached for the canteen next to him and poured water over the burn. Then he pulled their medical bag towards him and began rummaging through it.
Toothless berated Hiccup with an indignant growl.
The Viking brought a metal canister out of the bag, untwisted it, and began applying a paste over the seared flesh. He spat out the leather in his mouth. "I had to stop the bleeding, bud," he explained. His voice was hoarse, his breathing erratic. "People can die if they lose too much blood. I don't know exactly how much blood," he continued breathlessly, "but I don't really wanna test it, do you?"
Toothless crooned, somewhat appeased. Maybe Hiccup's crazy method had been necessary, but Toothless didn't have to like it. He laid his head back on the ground and tracked Hiccup's movements as he set to bandaging himself up.
Despite his abnormal breathing and the occasional hiss of pain, Hiccup worked in the same way he always did - with deft, sure hands and surprisingly smooth gestures. He moved in rhythm. A steady flow. An unwavering pace. His hands wrapped the bandage around his torso, transferring the gauze fluidly from one hand to the other, weaving it back and forth across his body. Toothless watched the movement, feeling himself relax.
When Hiccup finished, he tied a quick knot with a practiced twirl of his fingers. He cut the excess gauze off with a precise swipe of the knife, and then piled everything back into the medical bag. He shifted, his breath catching, and stuffed the medical bag into the saddlebag. The he sighed wearily and leaned back against Toothless.
"There might be people here."
Toothless looked up at Hiccup's whisper, and followed his gaze to the rope net that still hung from the tree.
"Looks old, though," Hiccup murmured. "Maybe they're gone now. We should... probably go look."
Toothless raised his head towards Hiccup and huffed; the warm air tousled his hair. Not tonight.
"Yeah, I know. I don't think I could go anywhere tonight." Hiccup turned his head towards Toothless and gave him a warm half smile. The firelight exaggerated the bags beneath his eyes, highlighted the paleness of his skin. He looked ghostly. Impermanent. Fleeting.
Toothless rumbled uneasily and rolled onto his side, dislodging Hiccup. He unfolded his top wing, extending it high over Hiccup's head. An invitation.
Hiccup crawled carefully forward and laid down beside Toothless, his body pressing into the dragon's scales.
Toothless lowered his wing and hummed contentedly. His gaze lingered on the fire for a moment, and then drifted back to the net.
A stick snapped somewhere deep in the forest, making Toothless' ears perk up. The wind howled and moaned through the trees. Clawed creatures scurried in the branches around them. There was movement in the undergrowth.
Toothless curled tighter around himself and his human.
He was on guard duty tonight.
"Okay, Hiccup." Snotlout leaned forward in the saddle and scanned the sky around them, a brilliant blue in the late morning sun. "Where are you?" As he and Hookfang flew onwards, he peered at the clouds around them, half expecting Hiccup and Toothless to magically appear. But after the minutes stretched on with no sign of them, Snotlout sighed, taking his hands off of Hookfang's horns and letting them hang limply at his sides.
"Ugh, can't they just show up? 'Oh, hey guys, were you looking for me?'" He imitated Hiccup's distinctive voice, gesturing so obnoxiously that Hookfang wavered beneath him, unable to fly straight. He growled at Snotlout, who ignored him. "'I was just filling in more of my dumb map!'" he continued. "'I found a new island, and by the way, did you know there are dragons that eat metal and spew little axes instead of fire?'"
Hookfang laughed beneath him.
"Ha. I'm glad you appreciate me, Hooky." Snotlout grinned and looked down at the ocean on their right side. Empty. He looked to the left. "Ah!" Snotlout jerked away instinctively, and Hookfang followed his lead, the two of them twisting back into the clouds.
"That was a Dragon Hunter ship!" Snotlout gripped Hookfang's horns tightly. "Why weren't you paying attention, Hookfang?"
The Monstrous Nightmare huffed.
"I was paying attention! That's why I saw them... eventually." Snotlout sighed and guided Hookfang back down below the clouds. They had lost the ship. "I don't like how close they were to the Edge. They better not be planning anything, cause we do not have time for that right now." Snotlout drummed his fingers nervously against Hookfang. "Do you think they saw us?" he asked. Then he shook his head, answering himself. "Nah, we're good. We're too fast for them, Fangster."
Hookfang rumbled appreciatively as his rider gave him an affectionate pat.
But another thought occurred to Snotlout; the grin slid off his face. "Do you think... do you think they saw Hiccup and Toothless? Wait - do you think they have Hiccup and Toothless?"
Hookfang grumbled doubtfully.
"Yeah, you're right. They don't have them. We would know." He nodded to himself just a little too excessively. "We would know," he repeated.
Hookfang dived abruptly; Snotlout grabbed his dragon's horns as they plummeted.
"What's up?" he asked, shifting in the saddle to get a good look below. They were heading for a ship - a different one. A familiar figure was waving up at them.
"Throk?" Snotlout asked, as they landed heavily on the deck, rocking the ship beneath them. He vaulted off of Hookfang. "What are you doing here?"
"Greetings, Snotlout!" Throk crossed the deck and stood in front of them with his usual impeccable posture. "I was sent by Queen Mala. I journey to Dragon's Edge to meet with Hiccup Haddock."
Snotlout frowned and slumped further. "Oh, great." He exchanged exasperated glances with Hookfang. "I thought you might know something, but it turns out, you know less than us."
A crease appeared between Throk's eyebrows. "I'm afraid I do not take your meaning."
"You don't know where Hiccup's been?" Snotlout asked him.
Throk's frown deepened. "But of course I do," he said. "He was just at Defenders of the Wing Island the other day. He met with Queen Mala and discussed his idea for a contingency plan. That is why she sent me to the Edge now; I am supposed to meet with him after his return and retrieve the requisite parts."
Snotlout blinked at him. "Contingency plan? Requisite parts? What in Thor's name are you talking about?"
Throk shifted and hummed thoughtfully. "I presumed Hiccup Haddock would have told you about his plan."
"No, he hasn't told us anything because we haven't seen him! He hasn't been back to the Edge at all, and he was supposed to be back yesterday."
Throk turned away, shaking his head. "This is troubling indeed. Hiccup Haddock is missing?"
"Yes! He's-" Snotlout was cut off in the middle of his frustrated agreement as a rush of wildly unanticipated emotion closed his throat. It was stupid, really, but the word had weight to it. Until now, there was a chance Hiccup could have been distracted or late or inconsiderate. But now... Snotlout scowled and kicked a nearby bucket, sending it skittering across the deck. "Missing."
"Thanks for letting me sleep so late." Hiccup ran a hand along Toothless' scales as they continued through the fire-scarred landscape.
Toothless rumbled happily.
"Too bad it's practically afternoon, though." Hiccup squinted up at the sun. "I hope we find something before nightfall. Or sooner." He started to pant a little heavier as the gentle slope they were walking on became steeper.
Toothless shoved his head beneath his rider's hand and hurried forward, running his body beneath Hiccup's fingers until they caught on the saddle.
"Nah, it's okay, bud. I can walk. Maybe I'll just rest for a second, though." Hiccup slowed to a stop beside a blackened tree and leaned back against it, measuring his breaths carefully. "Why don't you look ahead and see if you can see anything?"
Toothless warbled in agreement and bounded the short distance to the crest of the hill. Hiccup heard him roar happily.
"Something there?" he asked, encouraged, as Toothless padded back to his side. Hiccup took a deep breath and continued up the hill, a steadying hand on Toothless. When he reached the top, he stopped.
"Huh." The crest of the hill didn't open onto a valley as he had been expecting, but a plateau. Flat, ashen ground stretched out ahead of them and then met with the edges of a village. But the buildings were all in ruins, blackened and warped like the surrounding trees. Hiccup exchanged glances with Toothless. "Well, should we look around?"
Toothless advanced first, deliberately treading in front of Hiccup. But as they approached the village, there was no sign of a threat. No sign of life, even - at least, not recent life.
They passed between the outermost buildings and entered the village. The homes that stood around them had been gutted by fire. Walls gone. Gaping holes where windows used to be. Ashen debris littered the streets.
Hiccup moved to stand in front of one of the houses. Its blackened doorway was still in tact, but the wall it was attached to had burned away. The wall-less facade revealed a mess of debris inside, some of which had distinguishable shapes. Hiccup stepped forward.
Toothless growled, long and low.
"It's okay, bud. I just want to see what stuff is in here. We need to find something to fix your tail fin, or we're never getting out of here." Hiccup waited for Toothless' growling to quiet slightly, and then he stepped through the doorway and into the house.
A shelf had fallen and was leaning over a table. Hiccup edged into position beside the table, and saw that the shelf's contents were scattered below. He got to his knees, wincing as his ribs and side protested the movement. He reached forward and grabbed a blackened book.
Toothless' growling grew louder from outside.
"I'll be just a minute, bud," Hiccup called absent-mindedly, cracking open the book. He was surprised to find some of the pages untouched by the fire. He flipped through the book and traced over the pictures. They were tales of the gods.
Sighing, Hiccup set the book back on the floor and checked over the rest of the items, his fingers steadily blackening with ash. They were personal effects, mostly. Nothing that could be used to build a new tail fin.
Hiccup grit his teeth and stood. Maybe they could find the village's forge. Surely there were supplies there. Nodding to himself, he headed for the door. Outside, Toothless was bouncing around impatiently.
At the cusp of the doorway, something in Hiccup's peripheral vision caught his eye. A splash of color. He knelt down slowly. It was an intricately carved and painted pendant. He picked it up and held it in his hand, swiping away the ash with his thumb. Then he started to stand, bringing it with him. He met resistance. The pendant was still attached to its chain, and the chain - extending into the darkness beneath a low wooden bench - was still attached to something, too.
Experimentally, Hiccup pulled. The chain slid out from beneath the bench, and with it, a skeletal hand, one bony finger hooked around the chain even in death.
"Gah!" Hiccup scrambled backwards, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. Toothless stuck his head in the doorway with an alarmed roar, but Hiccup didn't look at him. From his new position on the floor, he could see the full corpse beneath the bench, burned and rotted and not yet only bones. He wrenched his gaze away, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Toothless nudged his way through the door and grabbed hold of Hiccup's tunic with his teeth. He started to pull him gently through the doorway.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Hiccup got to his feet and followed his dragon out the door.
Toothless growled at the house.
"Yeah, I know, bud," Hiccup said softly. He raised his hand to eye level, rubbing his fingers together, watching some of the ash drift to the ground. "I don't like it here, either."
Chapter 3: Everything's Fine
Chapter Text
Astrid and Stormfly dipped beneath the clouds and Berk spread out below them. The afternoon sun hit it at a sharp angle, casting a deep orange glow in some places, and throwing long, distorted shadows in others. They flew in close, Stormfly's shadow streaking beside them as they whipped past the docks and the outermost houses.
"Astrid!"
Stormfly slowed her pace so Astrid could get a good look at the random Viking who had called up to her. He was grinning broadly, waving.
Astrid returned the wave half-heartedly, but couldn't bring herself to smile. She knew without landing that Hiccup wouldn't be there. That she was only bringing Stoick bad news. Sighing, Astrid guided Stormfly a little lower and called out, "Have you seen the chief?"
"Just saw him coming out of the Great Hall!"
"Thanks." Astrid nodded at him, and then she and Stormfly sped away again. They flew to the Great Hall and then swooped down to the path below, gliding along it until they saw a lone, stout figure up ahead. With a light pat from Astrid, Stormfly landed smoothly.
Stoick turned at the sound of wings. "Astrid!" A genuine grin spread across his face as he approached her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?" He clapped a hand on her shoulder merrily. But before she could respond, his smile began to fade. His hand slipped away, hung in mid-air uncertainly. "It's... not a pleasure, is it?"
Astrid squared her shoulders and shook her head.
Stoick sighed heavily. "What's wrong?" he asked, nodding back down the path the way he had been heading. He turned and resumed walking.
Astrid fell into step beside him. "Have you seen Hiccup lately?"
Stoick sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. "No, I haven't. What's happened now?"
"He went on a trip, just him and Toothless - for a break, you know." Their footsteps were loud in the oddly quiet afternoon. The tension in the air hung low like the sun's rays. She could feel it between them. Stoick was dreading the bad news, and Astrid was loath to give it. But he needed to hear it, so she would tell him, and he would listen. They were warriors. People of duty and honor. They would do what they had to, bear what they must. "He was supposed to return yesterday," she said. "And he never did."
Stoick stopped and turned to her, silhouetted against the light, his features obscured in shadow.
"We hoped he might be here," she continued, "or that he had come here on his way out. Maybe he told you where he was heading."
"No." Stoick crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "He didn't come by, and he hasn't told me anything."
Astrid nodded, looking away. She studied the houses down the path, the way the rooftops seemed to catch fire in the sunlight. "Yeah," she said. "That's Hiccup. He set off without telling anyone where he was going, because he didn't even know himself. That's what he likes. The unknown. New possibilities."
"Aye." Stoick began to walk forward, and Astrid stayed with him. After a moment, he spoke up again. "It's been a day, then," he said. "Not too long yet. They could have gotten caught up in a storm." He hummed thoughtfully to himself, then asked, "Have the others started looking?"
Astrid nodded. "Fishlegs stayed on the Edge in case Hiccup comes back, or sends any Terror mail. Snotlout and the twins flew out from the Edge in different directions, looking for any sign of them."
"And you came here," Stoick finished. Astrid cast a sideways glance at him, and was surprised to see his lips curving upward in a small smile. "Were the others too scared to tell the Chief that his son is missing?"
Astrid chuckled lightly despite herself. "That, too," she said. She continued to watch him curiously. He seemed strangely steady, and it encouraged her somehow.
"What is it, lass?" he asked, meeting her gaze.
She hesitated for only a second. She could be honest with him. "I'm a little surprised. You're handling it differently than I expected - differently than the other times."
"Ah, well the other times were different. It's one thing for him to be missing while there's a bounty on his head. But this time, he was on a scheduled trip and he hasn't been gone for too long. And, of course, Toothless is with him."
"That's true." Astrid considered his words, let them calm her slightly.
"But that isn't to say I'm not worried." Stoick slowed his pace, and Astrid realized they had arrived at his house. Stoick sat on the bottom step and looked out over the village, his eyes reflecting the brilliant sun. He rubbed a large hand across his face.
Astrid sat next to him, noticing the way his posture was stooped. A little curve in the spine, just barely there. He sighed again.
"When Hiccup was little," he said softly, "I used to take him fishing."
Astrid blinked, caught off guard by the note of sentimentality in his voice. It was rare for him to talk like this to her. To Gobber, maybe. Or to Hiccup. But not to her. Not until now. Their relationship had grown stronger over the last couple of years, just as she and Hiccup had grown closer, too. She and Stoick found that they shared a sort of mutual spirit - a fierceness, a resoluteness, a warrior's constitution. And this - sharing stories like old friends - was a mark of how far they had come. Astrid leaned in, wanting to remember this.
"He never liked it much," Stoick continued. "Maybe it was too boring, or too simple." He shrugged. "So he would go wandering off almost every time. And when I finally found him, or he came stumbling back through the bushes, I would ask him where he'd gone, and he would say that he had been hunting for trolls." Stoick laughed, a quiet, rolling chuckle filled with warmth.
Astrid smiled, imagining it as clearly as if she had been there, too. But the image faded, and her smile with it, and she began to wonder why Stoick was telling her this. "Chief," she asked, "are you suggesting that maybe Hiccup just got distracted?"
He moved his head, not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. He didn't answer her, but continued his story instead. "Gobber would tell him stories about trolls all the time, and constantly complained that they always stole his socks." Stoick shook his head fondly. "And of course Hiccup loved those stories, believed them wholeheartedly."
Astrid smiled again, caught up in the story. She loved hearing the good moments of Hiccup's past, the memories worth smiling over.
"Then, on one particular fishing trip, Hiccup came back after running off to Thor knows where. He was a little scratched up, like he had fallen into some thorns, but he was smiling this big, wide toothy smile, his eyes all lit up. He was holding something behind his back. I asked him what it was, and he held it out for me, dirty fingers stretched wide." A note of amazement and disbelief had crept into Stoick's tone. "It was very old, but clearly recognizable."
"What was it?" Astrid asked breathlessly.
He turned to look at her and smiled bemusedly. "It was one of Gobber's socks."
"What?" Astrid leaned back, mystified. "But- but how? Where did he get it? How did he find it?"
Stoick was laughing again. "I don't know, to be honest. Never got a proper answer out of him. I actually forgot about it until just now." His laughter slowly faded away. He smiled at her again, a little sadly. "Strange, isn't it?"
"Very," Astrid agreed, still burning with curiosity.
"Earlier you wondered why I was handling this so well. But to be honest, I'm just not sure how I feel." He studied the sky again thoughtfully, the sun sinking lower, the orange hues shifting as sunset approached. "There's a very good chance that he's fine, lass. That they were waiting out a storm, or that he got distracted by a new island or a new dragon."
"But?" Astrid pressed.
"But Hiccup could go looking for trolls and come back with one of Gobber's missing socks." He looked to Astrid again, his expression entirely serious, his tone grave. "Hiccup likes to go looking for things," he said, "but he has a knack for findin' trouble."
Toothless stared at Hiccup pointedly.
"No, no, this is good!" Hiccup insisted. "This is good!"
Toothless huffed doubtfully as Hiccup stepped around several mysterious items burned beyond recognition.
"Okay, yes, the fireplace is gone," he conceded, "and the walls are gone, and the workbench is..." He tapped it experimentally with his prosthetic. The entire thing leaned over and then collapsed in a cloud of dust and ash. He coughed, holding an arm around his middle; Toothless could see him tense up as the coughing racked his body.
After a few moments, it subsided, and Hiccup turned back to him, eyes watery. "All right." He cleared his throat. "Maybe it isn't good. And it's structurally unsound, I'll give you that." He stooped down and sifted through the debris. "But there are things we can use here."
Toothless watched as Hiccup removed the bag from around his shoulders - the one he had found in one of the many houses he insisted they scavenge - and started filling it with what looked like junk. He heard the clink of metal and quiet thunks of wood as Hiccup filled the bag.
"See?" Hiccup smiled over at the Night Fury and stood up with the bag around his shoulders. "Lots of stuff to work with. I knew the forge would be helpful."
Toothless huffed again and kept an eye on Hiccup as he picked his way through the ruined forge. He found a medium-sized metal chest and tugged on it, to no avail. Toothless padded up behind him and watched him struggle with the half-melted clasp.
Hiccup sighed. "Toothless?"
The dragon shot a small plasma blast at it, and the chest burst open immediately.
"Thanks, bud," Hiccup murmured as he settled down in front of it. "Yes!" He pulled up handfuls of worn, yellowed fabric and showed them to Toothless. "This will be great for your tail fin!"
Toothless rumbled in disagreement.
"Okay, maybe not great," Hiccup amended. "It's really old and probably not the sturdiest, but it'll do to get us off this island, and that's a start." He stuffed swathes of the fabric into his bag and grinned encouragingly at Toothless. "I can make it work, bud. Okay?"
Toothless warbled happily and advanced towards his rider, remembering at the last second to be gentle. He leaned his head forward until it was barely touching Hiccup's chest. The materials they had found so far weren't good or great by any means, but Toothless knew that Hiccup could make anything work.
Hiccup ran a hand over Toothless' scales. "We can do this, bud," he said. "You and me."
Toothless hummed in agreement and backed away slightly, giving Hiccup room to stand while remaining close enough for Hiccup to be able to lean on him. Once Hiccup was steady, Toothless made his way to the door, his rider following closely.
"Well, we've got the materials we need," Hiccup reported as they stepped through the doorway and spilled back into the ashy street, "but now we need a place to work. Somewhere with a fireplace. And preferably a table that won't fall over." He squinted and scanned the sky.
Toothless looked, too. The bright blue of the day was fading into the icy gray of approaching night. The far horizon was tinged with pink as the sun started to disappear. Toothless nudged Hiccup. They should find a place before nightfall.
"Yeah, we should go," Hiccup agreed, tearing his gaze away from the sky and looking down the street again. It was lined with rows of a few more houses, and then ended with a tall, wooden wall, burnt but still standing. Hiccup frowned. "What do you think that is?" he asked. "Old city wall, maybe?" He started towards it and Toothless matched his pace, scanning their surroundings as they went.
When they reached the wall, they saw that it stretched into the distance on either side of them, bordering the collection of houses. It was high enough to extend above the nearby rooftops. There was a gate built in front of them - heavy hinges and a padlock that allowed this section of the wall to open and close.
Hiccup hummed thoughtfully. "I don't think it's a city wall after all. Look at the top.' He pointed, and Toothless craned his head up to look at the flat top. No spikes. No metal. No guard towers loomed overhead. "It's not defensive." Hiccup stepped forward and ran a hand lightly over the wood. Some nails stuck out partly, bent at odd angles. "Hastily built." He exchanged glances with Toothless, brow furrowed. "Why would they rush to build a giant wall? That doesn't make sense." He stepped back and shook his head. "It's like... some kind of... Oh!" Hiccup rushed forward again and leaned in close, peering through the cracks between the panels. "Yeah, look! More houses!"
Toothless rumbled his curiosity and loped towards the wall, pressing one side of his face up against it so he could look, too. Hiccup was right. There were houses on the other side of the wall. Some of them burnt as well, but decidedly less so. Toothless growled quietly, a low rattling in his throat. Something was wrong here.
He moved away from the wall and saw that Hiccup had done the same, backing up several steps and staring up at it with consternation. "It's like a divider," he said slowly. "But I don't understand. Why would you divide your village? Who would you separate?"
Toothless moved closer to Hiccup, still inexplicably uneasy. It didn't help that Hiccup, beneath his confusion, appeared uneasy, too.
"You would lock up criminals," he said. "But not in such a wide area with all these houses. And the items in the houses," he continued. "The artifacts. The personal possessions." He shook his head. "They weren't criminal. They were just normal. So I don't understand why these people would be cut off from the rest of the village like this." He stared at the wall, baffled.
Toothless went up to the wall again, looking through the cracks to inspect the village beyond. It looked normal, too. Fire had scarred some of the houses, but Toothless could see that some of the furthest appeared whole and untouched. The dragon stared for a second longer, and then realized with a sudden swooping feeling that Hiccup had been oddly quiet.
Toothless turned immediately, to find Hiccup staring at the wall with a different expression. His eyes were widened slightly, his mouth partly open. He had understood something. Toothless approached him with a questioning warble.
Hiccup blinked, then looked back at his dragon. "Well, I can't think of any reason why these people would be separated, unless..." He trailed off and turned away from the wall, staring wide-eyed at the homes they had passed through. His breathing was elevated again, unsteady. "Unless..." His voice was a whisper as he scanned the street. The wind picked up again, moaning through the houses. "Unless they were all sick with something."
A chill ran up Toothless' spine, like something crawling across his back, and he shuddered.
Hiccup turned back to him and laughed nervously. It was a forced, sort of desperate sound that unnerved Toothless. "No, you're right, bud," Hiccup said, although they both knew that Toothless had communicated nothing. "That's stupid. I'm just... I dunno, a little paranoid or something." He shook himself as Toothless had, and attempted a grin. "It's fine," he said. "Everything's fine." He wiped his hands off on his pants, leaving more ashy smudges, and then he turned back to the wall. "We should, uh - we should get over to the useful side of the village, don't you think?"
Toothless rumbled his fervent agreement, fixed his gaze on the padlock of the gate, and fired.
"Okay, let me get this straight." Snotlout's hardened features were illuminated by the fire pit in the center of the clubhouse. The flickering shadows highlighted the creases in his forehead. "It's been an entire day, and we're no closer to finding Hiccup?"
"Maybe we don't know where he is," Ruffnut began.
"But we do know where he isn't!" Tuffnut finished.
Snotlout growled, but Fishlegs said, "Actually, they're not wrong. We can figure out where he is by process of elimination."
"Oh, sure!" Snotlout practically jumped out of his seat and began pacing the length of the clubhouse again. "We'll just eliminate islands one by one, and we're bound to find him in the next year or two!"
Astrid rolled her eyes. "We're all worried about him, Snotlout, but getting angry at us isn't gonna do anything."
"I'm not worried, Astrid. That's stupid."
"Besides," she continued, ignoring him, "you're the one who met Throk and found out that Hiccup was at Defenders of the Wing the other day. That's helpful. Tomorrow, you can go there and ask Mala if Hiccup told her where he was going, or if she has any idea which direction he went. Meanwhile, I'll fly to Wingmaiden Island, and the twins will head to Berserker Island. If Hiccup met with Mala, there's a chance he might have met with some of our other allies, too. We can find out if any of them saw him recently, and then we'll be close." She nodded to herself. "Tomorrow," she said. "I bet we'll find him tomorrow."
"I wish we had just found him today," Snotlout grumbled. He slunk back to his seat, partly appeased but also distinctly unsatisfied. "But no. All I got to see today was empty ocean, Throk, and a dumb Dragon Hunter ship."
Astrid sat up straight. "Wait. A Dragon Hunter ship?"
Snotlout nodded.
"I saw one, too." Astrid frowned and turned to the twins.
"Yeah, we saw one of those." Tuffnut was petting Chicken in what appeared to be a self-soothing gesture. "We would have blown it up for the fun of it, but there were more important things going on. Thanks, Hiccup," he grumbled.
"But if you all saw Dragon Hunter ships..." Fishlegs sat up straight like Astrid, eyes alight with fresh concern. "Then something's going on." He turned to Astrid. "Do you think they're planning something? An attack on the Edge?"
Astrid considered this but shook her head. "I don't think they're looking to attack. The boat that I saw had a very limited crew, light on the weapons. It was a small ship. Like a scout."
"Yeah, the one we saw was tiny, too," Ruffnut pitched in. "That's why we wanted to roast it."
"Snotlout?" Fishlegs asked.
"I only saw it for a second," he said with a shrug. "But yeah, it looked pretty small."
"So you think they're scouts?" Fishlegs asked Astrid.
"Yes. They were small and stealthy. Definitely not prepared for combat. I think..." Astrid paused, bit her lip. "I think they're tracking us."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Snotlout leaned forward. "Tracking us, you say?"
Chicken squawked angrily.
"She says that's not cool," Tuffnut translated. "And she's right."
"Wait, wait, hold up!" Snotlout gestured at them impatiently. "If they're tracking us, does that mean they tracked Hiccup, too?"
Astrid folded her arms. "Hiccup and Toothless are really careful."
"But they might have." Snotlout, for once, was not obnoxiously insistent. He was quiet. His voice wavered almost imperceptibly. His words hung in the air between them.
Astrid sighed. "Yes. I guess they might have."
"But what if the Dragon Hunters did track them?" Fishlegs asked. "What if they took them? What if they know where Hiccup and Toothless are? What if they find them before we do?" He wrung his hands, looked around at them all with wide eyes that glimmered in the firelight. "How would we know?"
They looked at each other.
Astrid shook her head slowly. "We wouldn't."
"Oh, thank the gods." Hiccup pulled on the rope by the light of the lantern he had set on the rim of the well. After a few more tugs, the bucket drew flush with the opening, and Hiccup hauled it out. He placed it on the edge of the well, and then tipped it over, pouring the water into his canteen. "What a stroke of luck! We were almost out."
Toothless rumbled in happy agreement as he lapped up water from the cauldron they had pulled out of the healer's house.
Hiccup took several more refreshing swigs of the water, and then screwed the lid back on. "At least we've replenished our supply. And we can always come back for more." Hiccup lowered the bucket back into the well. He leaned back against it and watched Toothless drink until he had finished. "Ready?" he asked, picking up the lantern.
Together, he and Toothless headed back through the night, into the house on the corner. The fire they had lit was still roaring merrily in the fireplace, the comforting heat filling the room. It illuminated the single burnt corner of the house, and all the old belongings of the previous owner - some chests, a pile of notebooks, several tables, and even a bed. Shelves lined the back wall, filled with books and bowls, vials and herbs.
Hiccup headed to the large table in the center of the room, where he had spread out their materials earlier. He grabbed a knife and set to shaving down several pieces of wood into an approximation of what he would need.
Toothless appeared at his side with a wooden stool in his mouth. He set it down beside Hiccup pointedly.
"Thanks, bud." Hiccup didn't take his eyes off the wood, or pause the quick, practiced movements of his hands. "I don't need to sit right now."
Toothless huffed.
"I'll sit as soon as I get tired, I prom-" The end of Hiccup's sentence dissolved into coughing.
Toothless instantly perked up, watching him suspiciously.
When he had stopped coughing, Hiccup lowered the knife and wood and raised his eyebrows at Toothless. He cleared his throat. "What?" he asked. "Can't I cough? I'm working with a lot of dust here, you know." And so saying, he held the piece of wood out towards Toothless and blew on it; wood dust drifted over his dragon, who sneezed. Hiccup laughed.
Toothless walked past him and swung his tail up to lightly smack the back of Hiccup's head. He laughed, too.
"Hey!" Hiccup complained, but he failed to sound sufficiently angry while chuckling.
Toothless chortled quietly, and then curled into a ball off to Hiccup's left, settling in to sleep.
Hiccup watched him for a while, and then returned to the wood pieces, clearing his throat occasionally when he felt a little tickle. When he was done with that, he spread out a wide piece of paper and picked up his pencil. He set to work designing a new tail fin. It came naturally to him by now. He guided the graphite over the paper in smooth, fluid motions, the familiar shape and its parts appearing before him.
Hiccup stopped and wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead. It was starting to get hot. He glanced up at the fire, wondering if he had piled too much wood in at once, expecting to see it roaring just as powerfully as it had when they returned from the well.
"Huh." The fire had died down significantly, burning low and steadily. Hiccup shifted where he stood, and then decided to sit, pulling the stool over. He held his pencil over the page. Where had he left off again?
He thought abruptly of the wall in the village. He looked away, distracted, and his gaze landed on the notebooks. They must have belonged to the healer who had lived here, as was evident by the items in the house. Hiccup stared at the notebooks. Maybe they explained what had happened here, what horrible event had left the entire village empty and abandoned and half burnt. Maybe they explained the wall that loomed in the middle of the village. It didn't make sense. Unless they were all sick with something.
Hiccup swallowed and turned back to his work. There was no point trying to unravel the island's mysterious past. All that really mattered was building a new tail fin. Then they could leave, rejoin their friends, forget about this haunting place. Hiccup nodded and held the pencil over the paper again, studiously ignoring the way his hand shook. He wiped his forehead again.
"This is fine," he whispered quietly. "Everything's fine."
Chapter 4: Good Progress
Chapter Text
"He's what?!" Dagur's shout reverberated across Berserker Island; in the distance, birds scattered from the trees, shrieking. "If those Dragon Hunters have him - if they've done anything to dear, sweet little Hiccup, I swear I'll-" Dagur froze in the middle of a particularly violent gesture.
The twins and Heather were watching him carefully.
He cleared his throat. "I'll, uh... be... very mad," he finished in a voice of forced calm. One his eyes twitched. A vein was popping in his neck.
"Aw, I wanted to hear what he was gonna do to them," Ruffnut mumbled beneath her breath. Tuffnut, staring wide-eyed at Dagur, nodded his agreement.
Heather placed a calming hand on her brother's arm and addressed the twins herself. "How can I help?" she asked. "I can join the search with Windshear."
Ruffnut sighed heavily. "Guess that means you haven't seen him."
Heather and Dagur shook their heads in unison, and Tuffnut turned away, his lips pressed into a tight grimace. He heard Ruffnut walk off with Heather, talking about nearby islands that Hiccup might have visited. Tuffnut shook his head and walked the few steps to the edge of the island. He toed the rocky cliff and stared out at the ocean, an agitated mass of icy gray that glittered with specks of silver in the early morning light.
Heavy footsteps crunched in the rocks, and Dagur appeared in his peripheral vision, gazing out at the restless waves, too. "I think this is the longest I've seen you go without playing some kind of prank," he said. He was attempting conversation, or politeness, or normalcy, or something. But there was a hard edge to his voice. His stance was rigid, unyielding.
Tuffnut shrugged. In truth, he couldn't find it within him to pull a prank right now. Ruffnut was the same. Their flight here had been uncharacteristically silent and uneventful. He was reminded of the time Barf and Belch had owed a life debt to Hiccup and Toothless, and losing their dragon forever had seemed like a real possibility. They had spent a particularly hopeless and frustrated night reviewing increasingly desperate plans. This was like that. Except with less planning. Less to go on. And so much more uncertainty.
Tuffnut kicked a pebble off the edge of the island. "Do you think they have him?"
Dagur took a slow, deep breath. "They better not," he said.
Tuffnut shifted and glanced sidelong at Dagur. His fists were clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms taught. It was still a little strange, sometimes. Being this close to Dagur, after all he had done in the past. He had more than proved himself to them, of course, but it was still striking. He had tried to kill Hiccup, hated him with a raging passion. And yet here he stood at the island's edge, beside Tuffnut, harboring thinly-veiled malice towards whomever had hypothetically hurt Hiccup. Tuffnut frowned at the rolling waves in front of them. He wasn't sure whether Dagur's obvious concern for Hiccup made him feel better or worse.
"You know," Dagur said, speaking up suddenly. "There are certain kinds of people that you don't have to worry about. People who won't ever get in too much trouble, even if they get caught." The words came pouring out of Dagur like a dam had burst. He gestured wildly as he talked, his tone edged with a certain sharpness, his voice pitched a fraction higher than usual. His eyes sparked with a hint of his old craziness. "And that's because those people are scared. Or, at least, I don't know- smart." He growled in frustration. "What's the word? Ah - sensible. Yeah." He nodded fervently to himself and then began to pace around the cliff. "You see, Tuffnut, some people are sensible. And when they are captured and threatened for information, they talk. They avoid unnecessary pain and suffering for themselves, and they just talk."
Tuffnut watched him warily, unsure where this was going.
"But me," Dagur continued manically, "I'm not one of those people. I'm stubborn. I won't talk, no matter what you do to me. It's the principle of the thing. Understand?" Dagur came to a standstill beside Tuffnut again, regarding him with wide eyes, a kind of pleading look.
"Yeah," Tuffnut said slowly. "Okay."
Dagur nodded, evidently pleased that Tuffnut was tracking along with him. "Good."
They stood there in silence for several moments as Tuffnut's confusion mounted. He opened his mouth, on the point of asking what Dagur meant by all this.
"Hiccup is a scrawny little toothpick of a Viking."
Tuffnut shut his mouth again, considerably more confused.
"But he's like me." Dagur rocked back on his heels and looked over at Tuffnut again. "Remember when he told you guys that story to convince you that I changed? About how I saved him and Toothless from the Dragon Hunters?"
"Yeah," Tuffnut said again.
"Well, he kind of glossed over some parts."
Tuffnut nodded. "Yeah, he does that."
"There was this moment where the Dragon Hunters had both of us." Dagur's tone had changed so much that Tuffnut whipped his head around to stare at him. He wasn't watching Tuffnut anymore. He was staring out at the ocean again, eyes glassy and distant, remembering. His voice was oddly soft, quiet. Low like the rumbling of the waves. "They wanted to know where Toothless was. Of course Hiccup wouldn't say. So they dragged him over to this fire."
Goosebumps swept across Tuffnut's forearms; the hairs on the back of his neck raised.
"There was a brand in there - the Dragon Hunter insignia. One of them pulled it out of the fire and burned it into the side of a barrel, just so there wasn't any doubt about what it would do. And then he raised it up..." Dagur's voice was nearly a whisper now, barely audible above the crashing waves. "He brought it right up to Hiccup's face." Dagur raised a hand to his own face absent-mindedly, a vague demonstration. "And I could tell. I could see it in the way he held himself. A defiance." He turned towards Tuffnut again, grave. He shook his head.
"Hiccup is like me," he said. "He's not the sensible kind."
Tuffnut swallowed hard.
"I hope they don't have him." Dagur turned back to the ocean again. "Because Hiccup doesn't talk."
The rasping croaks of a raven stirred Toothless from his sleep. Peeling his eyes open, he looked out of the open door, where the well stood in plain sight. A single raven was perched on the edge of it, staring at him through the doorway with a cocked head. It was silhouetted by a deep crimson light filtering through the village from the sunrise. The rope that held the bucket in the well swung slightly in the passing wind. Toothless felt the breeze swirl into the room, tinged with sea salt, heavy with moisture. Static electricity hung in the air. A storm would be coming soon.
The raven ruffled its feathers, hopped three times, and then flew off with another echoing caw. When it left his line of sight, Toothless stood and stretched. He yawned widely, and then glanced around the room for his human.
Hiccup was seated on the stool Toothless had brought him, slumped across the large wooden desk in the center of the hut. Toothless padded over to him and blew a huff of breath in his face.
Hiccup's features crinkled and then he opened his eyes, blinking quickly. "What?" he mumbled, raising his head. The paper he was sleeping on stuck to the side of his face and lifted off the desk. Hiccup swept it away clumsily and started to sit up.
"Gah!" He hissed in pain, instantly wide awake, arms circling his middle, breaths coming in short gasps.
Toothless roared softly, distressed.
"S'okay, bud," Hiccup bit out, straightening slowly and deliberately. "That was just... a horrible position to sleep in. Especially when you have bruised ribs."
Toothless cooed his sympathy and waited for Hiccup to sit fully upright. Then he leaned in close with a concerned warble.
Hiccup patted his head gently; his hand was warmer than usual. "I meant to finish this last night," he said, gesturing glumly at the sketches and parts scattered on the table in front of him. "Sorry, bud. Guess I fell asleep." His voice was raspy, little better than the ravens in the trees. He ran a hand through his hair, and then reached out for a nearby cup. He brought it towards himself, but stopped halfway, tipping it upside down over the table with a weary sigh. It was empty. Toothless watched as he grabbed the water canteen, refilled the cup, and drank deeply. He downed the whole thing without stopping. Then he set it back on the table and wiped his face with his sleeve. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, making the tips of his bangs stick to his forehead.
Toothless rumbled uneasily.
"Hmm?" Hiccup looked down at him, and Toothless wondered if his face was really flushed, or if it was the red lighting from the rising sun. He hoped it was the latter. "I'm okay, bud," Hiccup said, casting his dragon a reassuring grin. "It's just a little warm here, isn't it?" he asked, pulling on the collar of his tunic. "Anyway, better get back to it." Hiccup stood and shoved the stool beneath the table. He drew the papers towards himself.
Toothless grumbled his displeasure and pushed Hiccup gently away from the table.
Hiccup looked worse than he had last night. The bags under his eyes were slightly more pronounced despite the extra sleep, and he had a kind of frazzled air about him that worried Toothless. It could have been the stress of the situation; Toothless had certainly seen Fishlegs and Snotlout demonstrate a kind of frenzied exhaustion when things took a turn for the worse. But Hiccup wasn't like that - wasn't like anyone else. He never reacted like the twins, who gained a sort of manic glee from the chaos. And he didn't react quite the same as Astrid either, with her occasional temper and constant strategizing of battle plans, or escape plans, or whatever tactics were necessary for the situation. No, Hiccup was - as per usual - in his own category. He was calm under pressure. Steady. Unshaken. A solid presence and a clear mind in the midst of trouble.
But right now, something was off. Something was wrong. So Toothless edged Hiccup back again when he tried once more to approach the work table.
"No, really," Hiccup protested. "I can work on it. I'm well enough to work on it. Plus, the sooner I finish, the sooner we can get out of here."
But Toothless remained steadfast, an immovable blockade between Hiccup and his makeshift work station.
Eventually Hiccup sighed and turned away. He squinted in the blood red sunlight. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he studied the world outside the healer's hut. Toothless watched him stand there motionlessly for several moments, his hair and clothes drifting almost imperceptibly in the breeze.
"Storm's coming." Hiccup turned back to Toothless. "Okay, fair point. I guess even if I did finish your tail fin right now, we wouldn't be able to fly out of here yet anyway."
Toothless rumbled happily, pleased that Hiccup was relenting.
Hiccup smiled tiredly at him. "Yeah, you win. I'll rest first." He swiped the water canteen off the table and then scooped a handful of the healer's books off the floor. Toothless followed him as he crossed to the bed in the corner, dropped the items onto it, and then clambered in.
Toothless narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously.
Hiccup laughed lightly. The sound was encouraging. "I'm just doing some reading," he explained, gesturing at the pile of notebooks. "Aren't you curious about what happened here?" He settled back against the headboard with a wince, carefully adjusting his position. Then he cracked one of the notebooks open and grinned over the cover at Toothless. "See? This is resting. I'm just relaxing in bed, reading a nice bedtime story."
Hiccup turned his attention to the book in his hands, and the smile slowly slid off his face as his eyes tracked further down the page. "Or," he said weakly, "a ghost story."
"I can tell you were hoping for good news." Mala's smooth features were creased in concern as she frowned sympathetically at Snotlout. "I am sorry. I do wish now that I would have asked him where he intended to go, but at the time I did not think it was my place to ask."
Snotlout felt like he was physically sinking into the volcanic earth of Defenders of the Wing Island. "And you didn't happen to see which way he went?"
Mala shook her head. "I watched them leave, but they took off vertically, straight into the clouds overhead," she explained, pointing. "There was no way to tell which direction they flew after that."
"Showoffs," Snotlout grumbled. Great. Another wasted trip. He ran a hand down the length of his face and gave a long-suffering sigh. They were getting nowhere.
"Since Hiccup Haddock did not return, I take it that he did not inform you of his contingency plan?"
The phrase stirred something in Snotlout's memory, and he recalled Throk mentioning the plan when he met him on his way to Dragon's Edge. He had said something about needing parts from Hiccup. Snotlout shrugged. "Honestly, Mala, I don't really care about whatever little plan he was scheming. We just need to find him. And then he can babble on about whatever new idea he has. But until then, I don't actually want to hear about it."
"I understand," Mala said kindly. She was watching him with a knowing expression that Snotlout didn't like.
He squared his shoulders, feeling oddly defiant for some reason, and said, "C'mon, Fangster. Let's go. Hopefully the others had some luck." Hookfang scampered over to him, and Snotlout vaulted back into the saddle. He turned to address Mala again. "Could you maybe keep an eye out-?"
"I will keep all patrols apprised of the situation," Mala told him readily. "I assure you, if Hiccup Haddock passes through our borders, we will see him, and we will assist him in every way we can. And on that note, Throk should be arriving at Dragon's Edge soon, and he is also at your disposal. He will gladly help in whatever manner you see fit."
Snotlout nodded. "Thanks, Mala."
"May the gods be with you in your search." Her words were drenched in so much sincerity that something caught in Snotlout's throat. "And may the gods be with Hiccup Haddock as well."
"Thanks, Mala," he said again, voice a bit thicker this time. Then he tapped lightly on Hookfang's neck, and with a whoosh of cold air, the two of them streaked back through the clouds.
On their way back towards Dragon's Edge, Mala's final words ran through Snotlout's mind. And may the gods be with Hiccup Haddock as well. For some reason, this made him think of nothing other than Hiccup's occasional sarcastic quip: "Ah, the gods hate me." It was a joke, of course. And yet Hiccup did seem to have some awful luck at times. Not to mention, it had been almost two days now, and a full four days since anyone had last seen him.
Snotlout groaned and leaned forward on Hookfang. "Oh, Thor. He's definitely in trouble, Hooky."
Hookfang roared in mild alarm and swerved sharply.
"Hey! Relax, Hookfang. We can't both freak out at the same time."
Hookfang turned his head to give Snotlout an exasperated look. Then he flew slightly lower, skimming the surface of the clouds.
Snotlout craned his neck to look at the sea below them, and there, at a distance, was unmistakably a Dragon Hunter ship. Like Astrid had pointed out, it was unusually small in size, and appeared to be armed with few weapons. Snotlout scowled. "Yeah, I see it."
Hookfang rumbled his acknowledgement and drifted back up into the cover of the cloud bank.
"Whatever they're doing, skulking around everywhere - it isn't good. What are they doing all the way out here, anyway? And if the twins saw them yesterday, too, then they're really all over the place." Snotlout shook his head. "I don't get it. It's like they're looking for something."
Hookfang gave a small roar of agreement.
Snotlout froze in the saddle. The temperature of the air around them seemed to plummet. "Maybe they don't have Hiccup," he ventured, "but what if they somehow know he's missing? What if they're looking for him, too?" He readjusted his grip on Hookfang's horns; his hands were slick. "I think there's a chance we're not just searching for Hiccup." He felt his heart skip a beat and then hasten forward.
"I think we're in a race."
Chapter 5: This Is A Good Sign
Chapter Text
An intense flash seared the room. Hiccup blinked the lingering brightness out of his eyes and began to count. After ten seconds, a rumble of thunder rolled through the village, shaking the foundations of their shelter. Vials rattled in their places on the shelves. The storm was passing.
Hiccup stood from the bed, stifling a wince. He made it two steps towards the work table before Toothless caught on. His dragon abandoned his post by the door and guided Hiccup back into bed.
“Toothless, the storm is getting further and further away. I need to make your new tail fin so we can get out of here as soon as it passes.”
Toothless sat down hard in front of the bed, unimpressed.
“I’m serious, bud.” Hiccup brushed the healer’s notebooks away from him, feeling his heart pounding furiously as he did so. “This is not a good place to be.”
Toothless’ eyes narrowed, the way they did when he was studying Hiccup very carefully. His looked pointedly at the notebooks and then back again.
Hiccup swallowed. “I need to finish your tail, and we need to leave,” he said firmly, standing up again. But his body was decidedly less sure than his mind; the world grayed out around him. When it faded back in, he was sitting down on the bed again, Toothless faithfully helping prop him up. His heart was racing, the unnatural pattern of beats light and unsteady. He took a deep breath. Then another. Something burned behind his eyes.
“It took the children first,” he whispered.
Toothless froze in the middle of his efforts to get Hiccup to lie down. He regarded him with scrutiny, his reptilian eyes alight with cold calculation - the astonishing depth and intelligence that had stayed Hiccup’s hand when he had first encountered the dragon in the woods. He looked as frightened as I was.
Hiccup’s breath hitched. “The disease.” He nodded in the general direction of the healer’s notebooks, but Toothless did not look away. “That was why they built the wall.” Hiccup wiped a hand across his forehead; it came away slick. He buried his mounting paranoia and reached for his water canteen instead.
But when he had finished drinking, Toothless was still watching him expectantly. Hiccup set the canteen aside with shaking hands. Gods, he didn’t want to think about what had happened. He regretted reading the books in the first place. But Toothless was waiting. Hiccup nodded.
“There were visitors here - another tribe. They were meeting to decide whether they wanted to form an alliance. Apparently, things turned sour, and they left. Within a day, the children started dying. Infants first, then the rest.” Hiccup shivered as a sudden chill passed through him, irrespective of the heat that was mounting within him. “The elderly sickened next, and then started to die, too. The- the healer wrote that it was confusing because the sick people came from different parts of the village. Some of them were interacting, but it seemed like some of them wouldn’t have come in contact at all. No one knew how the disease was spreading.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the room in a harsh white light. Hiccup cleared his throat. “Obviously, their first thought was that the other tribe must have brought the disease. So they rounded up everything the other tribe had brought over and destroyed it. Every last gift, every last traded good, every last trinket down to the smallest carving.” Thunder rumbled through the house; Hiccup could feel it discompose his already unsettled heartbeat. His hands clenched in fists around the blankets.
“It did nothing. More people died, and then more people got sick. People of every age.” Hiccup shook his head. “Eventually the healer and the chief worked out that most of the sick people were coming from one particular section of the village - it wasn’t a vast majority, but it was something, at least. They were probably desperate. So they rounded all of the diseased people into that area and built a wall, to separate them from the rest of the village.”
Hiccup ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “That didn’t work, either. It continued to spread to the uninfected, and as the days went by, the deaths began to pile up in disastrous numbers. And within a couple of weeks, every single villager was infected. Every. Single. One. In the healer’s last entry, he is one of the last ten people left alive.” Hiccup bit his lip. “He said- he said they were thinking of burning the village down. He said their island had been cursed by the gods.”
The room was thrown into sharp relief again by another bolt of lightning. The two of them waited in silence for the responding rumble of thunder. It rolled through the ground like an earthquake, shaking the contents of the shelves; a small vial of clear liquid fell off a shelf and shattered on the floor. Both Hiccup and Toothless flinched.
“So, you see…” Hiccup stood again, slowly and deliberately. “I need to finish your tail fin. And we need to get off this island.” He walked forward. Toothless didn’t stop him.
Hiccup sunk into the stool as soon as he reached the table. He wiped his forehead again and searched around for the pencil. Where had he put it?
Toothless warbled softly from beside him. His concern was piercing, like the lightning.
Hiccup shook his head and continued looking for the pencil, his heart thrumming restlessly against his chest. “I admit it, bud, I’m not actually feeling that great.” He moved aside a loose sheet of paper and snatched up the pencil beneath it. “But I need to do this now because-” He swallowed hard. “Because if I get worse, I won’t be able to. I need to do this while I still can.”
Toothless crooned, placing his head gently in Hiccup’s lap.
Hiccup brought his free hand down to rub against Toothless’ scales. “It’s okay, bud. It’s just from getting hurt when we crashed; it has to be. Whatever disease was here before couldn’t possibly still be around. Besides,” he added, grinning wryly. “I checked the symptoms. The healer made a comprehensive list, and the first symptom was always discoloration around the nail beds.” Hiccup set the pencil down and showed Toothless his recently cleaned hands; the skin around his nails was encouragingly normal. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Toothless rumbled doubtfully.
“Yeah,” Hiccup agreed, turning back to the blueprints. “Poor choice of words.”
Astrid blinked at Snotlout, the words failing to register for several moments. She shook her head. “No. No, that’s impossible.”
“It is… unlikely,” Fishlegs agreed, frowning deeply.
Snotlout’s flustered expression remained the same as he looked back and forth between them. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Okay, yeah. How would they know that Hiccup’s missing? It was a crazy idea.” He sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
Astrid hated that she felt equally unsure. She turned and began to pace the clubhouse again, arms folded tightly against her chest. “Of course it’s crazy. They would have no way of knowing that Hiccup’s missing. Right, Fishlegs?”
Fishlegs flinched and looked at her wide-eyed, as if she had told him there was a Changewing behind him. “R-right. Yeah, of course.” Then he growled in frustration and shook his head. “What am I saying? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what they’re up to.”
Snotlout remained unmoving. “So I’m right?”
“I don’t know,” Fishlegs snapped.
Astrid sighed heavily and turned away from them, looking out at the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky, its blazing heat unabated in the cloudless afternoon. The silhouette of Throk’s approaching ship was visible in the distance now, but still there was no sign of Hiccup and Toothless. She stomped back into the center of the clubhouse. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what the Hunters are doing. Whether they’re looking for Hiccup or not, we need to find him. Fast. Mala is the only one who’s seen him lately, so we need to start there. We’ll all head to Defenders of the Wing, and then break out in different directions. Come on, let’s go.”
“Astrid.” Fishlegs’ hesitant objection stopped Astrid in the doorway. She turned on her heel.
“What?”
Fishlegs swallowed. “Astrid, I know you’re eager to go - we all are - but…”
“But what?”
Fishlegs withered under her steely gaze. “Well, the dragons just flew to all these different islands and back. To make the trip to Defenders of the Wing right now would be too much.” He shook his head, the same haunted look still etched around his eyes. “We have to wait until morning. Let them rest for the night.”
Tears pricked behind Astrid’s eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat harshly and let her anger rise to the surface instead. “No. Way. I’m leaving now, even if you won’t.”
“Astrid.” It was Snotlout’s voice that stopped her this time.
Astrid clenched her fists at her sides, on the cusp of storming out without looking back.
“Astrid,” Snotlout repeated. He sounded dull, empty, not at all like his usual self. It was this more than anything that made Astrid turn to him.
“Don’t forget what I did to Hookfang.”
Astrid’s heart sank as she instantly recalled the time Hookfang’s fire had almost gone out for good, when Snotlout had been pushing him too hard. She remembered his panic. The previously-unknown levels of stress. The awful desperation that had clouded his every movement until they were finally able to get the problem resolved. She remembered the guilt that had hung around him for months afterward.
She cursed under her breath.
Snotlout nodded and left the room, his feet dragging.
Fishlegs cleared his throat. “So… we go in the morning?”
“The very first thing,” Astrid growled.
Fishlegs nodded and followed Snotlout. When their footsteps had faded out of earshot, Astrid suddenly remembered that the twins were in the room, too. She turned on them. They were sitting quietly in the corner of the clubhouse, and if it were any other day, Astrid would have thought to ask why they were upset. But right now, in the moment, her mind occupied in spinning horror stories involving Hiccup, she didn’t think at all.
“You two better be ready.” She pointed an accusing finger at them. “We’re leaving exactly at dawn.”
Tuffnut shot to his feet, fists clenched and shaking at his sides. He strode forward into the firelight, and it struck Astrid belatedly that he was pale. And that he hadn’t said more than two sentences since they met up. “You’re not the only one who cares about him, you now. We’re his friends, too.” He stalked out of the clubhouse without another word.
Astrid blinked, stung. Guilt began to pour over her, extinguishing her anger like sand over fire. She rubbed her arms, feeling somehow dirty.
Ruffnut came to stand beside her. “I think Dagur said something to him.”
“Huh?” Astrid turned to her, thrown off by the unexpected comment.
“Dagur,” Ruffnut repeated. “When we went to Berserker Island today. I went and talked with Heather, and he went and talked with Dagur. When he came back, he was like that,” she said, nodding to the empty doorway where Tuffnut had vanished. “I mean, we were both boring disappointments to Loki on the way there, but he was even worse on the way back. I think Dagur said something that scared him.”
“What do you mean? You think Dagur knows something?”
Ruffnut shook her head. “No,” she said slowly. “I think he’s like the rest of us. I think he has ideas.”
Toothless woke with a start. He had been lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sounds of Hiccup’s tinkering, but now the sounds had changed. It was quiet. Toothless stood silently, nerves taught, visited by an instinctive feeling that something was amiss.
He looked to the work table immediately. Hiccup was there, standing now, but leaning wearily against it. He pulled the completed tail fin off the table with a frightening amount of effort, then turned towards Toothless.
He smiled when he saw that Toothless was awake. But Toothless felt no happiness upon viewing Hiccup. His human’s condition was clearly deteriorating. His breathing was still unnaturally quick and shallow, and sweat had darkened the fabric of his tunic. But he smiled warmly at Toothless all the same.
“Look, bud!” He shoved the tail fin towards Toothless, who tore his gaze away from the bags beneath Hiccup’s eyes to look at the finished work. “All done!” Hiccup pulled the tail out as a demonstration, gears whirring and clicking, and something registered in Toothless’ mind. This wasn’t the usual tail fin.
Toothless growled and moved away from it, staring up at Hiccup in a mixture of surprise and disappointment. This was the automatic tail fin. Hadn’t he made it clear in the past that he wanted to fly with Hiccup?
The smile slid off Hiccup’s face, leaving him looking even more worn and haggard, and Toothless felt an immediate rush of guilt. Hiccup shifted his weight slightly.
“I know you don’t really like this one, bud.” He dropped it on the floor unceremoniously and then clasped his hands behind his back. “And originally, I was going to make the usual one, but- well, something came up, and I- I had to… adjust accordingly.” He was dancing around something, subconsciously edging backwards, wringing his hands behind his back the exact way he always did when he was trying to hide something from Astrid.
Toothless advanced on him with an impatient rumble.
“Ah-” Hiccup looked for a moment like he was about to stall further. But then he sighed, resigned. “Okay… truthfully, I had to make it in case you have to leave. But I- I can’t. Leave, I mean.” He huffed. “Uh, what I’m trying to say is, I can’t leave this island.”
Toothless tilted his head at him. Hiccup’s nervousness and incoherent rambling were making it difficult for him to get his point across.
Hiccup sighed; it was breathy, worrying. “I can’t leave because I don’t want to spread it,” he whispered. Then he pulled his hands out from behind his back, and held them in front of Toothless.
The skin around Hiccup’s nails was a dark, purplish blue.
“I wish I could tell you I accidentally hammered both of my hands.” Hiccup met eyes with Toothless, his jaw set, his features hardened in a grim resolve. He swallowed.
“But I didn’t.”
Chapter 6: Promising Revelations
Chapter Text
“I say we take it down.” Snotlout’s features twisted into a malevolent grimace. “There are three of us. We can take one little ship.”
Astrid nodded. “I agree. Besides, this is our best chance to find out what they’re up to. Fishlegs?”
Fishlegs glanced down at the clouds below them, rubbing Meatlug’s scales absent-mindedly. The Dragon Hunter ship was invisible from their current position, but it was down there, floating unawares. He gulped and looked back to Snotlout and Astrid, both of whom looked fierce and unrelenting. He sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “It’ll add time getting to Defenders of the Wing Island, but… we don’t know what they’re doing, and it might be important, or even relevant. We should learn what we can since we happened to come across them.”
“Okay, Snotlout - draw their fire. Fishlegs, circle around the stern and make sure there are no surprises. Stormfly and I will take out that catapult.”
“Oh, thank Odin! Finally some action,” Snotlout growled. He and Hookfang sped away, Astrid and Stormfly on their tail.
“C’mon, girl.” Fishlegs guided Meatlug further away before dipping beneath the clouds. Snotlout had already drawn the attention of the meager crew, who were rushing towards the bow of the ship. Fishlegs and Meatlug swept in from the stern; they fired on the crew from behind, sending them scattering across the deck or diving into the ocean. A particularly loud crash told Fishlegs that the catapult had been taken care of. Within seconds, Astrid and Snotlout joined him on deck, the smoky air silent in the aftermath.
The sound of running footsteps reached them, and the trapdoor leading below deck burst open. A stocky, scowling Dragon Hunter stormed onto the deck, waving the scroll in his hand wildly.
“What is going on up-?” He stopped short, taking in the three dragon riders and their dragons. He sneered at them. “Oh, it’s you.” He folded his arms and stared at them with open hostility. “You’ll find nothing of value for you here.”
“We’ll be the judges of that,” Astrid snapped as Snotlout darted forward and snatched the parchment from the Hunter’s hands.
“Project Lensflare in motion,” he read aloud. “Cease operations and return to base.”
“What’s Project Lensflare?” Astrid asked immediately.
The Dragon Hunter laughed darkly. “I’m not gonna tell you.”
“Good.” Astrid shoved him, sending him reeling back through the trapdoor; they could hear the series of thuds as he smacked against the stairs. Astrid bolted after him, disappearing below deck.
Fishlegs and Snotlout scrambled after them, skittering to a halt at the bottom of the steps. It was dark in the cargo hold. A solitary lantern hung above a desk at the far end, and provided the only light in the space. Fishlegs blinked quickly, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could see the dim form of Astrid hovering over what must have been the Dragon Hunter.
“Still have nothing to say to me?” she asked.
The Dragon Hunter laughed from somewhere on the floor, but it was strained this time. He spat. “Nah. Besides, don’t you have something better to be doing?”
“Like what?”
“Astrid,” Fishlegs warned, moving closer with Snotlout. “He’s just trying to rile you up.”
“I know,” she growled. “But I want to hear what he has to say.”
A bulky shape moved in the darkness; the Hunter was standing up. His profile was silhouetted by the lantern light, taller and broader than Astrid.
Fishlegs and Snotlout found their places beside her as she asked again, with a frightening coldness, “Like what?”
The Hunter grinned, crooked yellow teeth glinting in the dim light. He took a step forward, mere inches from them. The stench of sweat and liquor filled Fishlegs’ nostrils. He had to stop himself from stepping back in revulsion. Beside him, Snotlout tensed.
The Hunter leaned forward suggestively. “Aren’t you… looking for something?”
With a wild yell, Astrid launched herself at him. They slammed against the hull of the ship and then rolled onto the floor, limbs flailing wildly. Fishlegs and Snotlout ran over, but by then, Astrid was already on top of him, pinning him to the floor, smashing her fists into his face with heavy blow after heavy blow.
“Astrid!” Together, Fishlegs and Snotlout pulled her off of him. She writhed in their grip, screaming at the Hunter. Above them, their dragons roared in distress and stomped around the deck, sending dust filtering down from the ceiling; Stormfly was attempting to squeeze through the trapdoor.
“What do you know?!” Astrid screeched, fighting frantically to get out of her friends’ grip, as Fishlegs and Snotlout panted with the effort of keeping her restrained. “What do you know?!”
“Snotlout, do something!” Fishlegs groaned, digging his heels into the floor and managing to drag Astrid back a step.
“What,” Snotlout asked between gasps, “do you expect me to do?”
Their struggling moved them a few feet to the side, and the lantern light spilled over the Hunter. He was laying on the floor watching them, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. Blood poured from his hairline. Some of his teeth were missing, and the ones that weren’t were coated in a thin sheen of blood, too. He gave a wheezy laugh.
“Don’t you dare!” Astrid launched into a fresh wave of renewed rage, and gained a few feet by sheer surprise. “Don’t you dare laugh! What the hell do you know about Hiccup?!”
“Hold on - I got it!” Snotlout groaned. He let go of Astrid and sprinted to the desk.
“Hey!” Fishlegs wrapped his arms entirely around Astrid, just barely able to slow her relentless advance towards the laughing Hunter.
Snotlout rushed past them with a heavy brass candlestick in his hand. He threw himself on the Hunter and bashed him over the head with it. The Hunter went limp. Silent.
With a frustrated growl, Astrid deflated in Fishlegs’ arms, and they tumbled to the floor in an exhausted heap, breathing heavily.
Snotlout stood up and backed away from the Hunter, candlestick in hand.
Fishlegs cursed. “Did- did you kill him?”
Snotlout dropped the candlestick with a dull thunk. “No,” he panted.
Stormfly keened at them from the trapdoor.
“I- I’m all right, girl,” Astrid called.
Fishlegs sat up and raked a hand over his face. “Astrid-”
“I know, I know,” she said immediately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I just…” She trailed off into silence. The ship creaked around them, filling the quiet with a low wooden groan.
“We know,” Snotlout said.
Astrid let out a long sigh and then got to her feet. She spared the Hunter one last sour look before turning and heading towards the desk. “He really seemed like he knew something, though. Why else would he ask if we’re looking for something?”
Snotlout followed her to the desk. “See, I told you they knew,” he muttered darkly. He pulled open a drawer and began rifling through its contents; Astrid followed his lead.
Fishlegs got to his feet, too, and crossed to the wall behind the desk. A large map was pinned there. He scanned it with increasing astonishment, his fingers tracing the lines they had drawn. “You guys,” he breathed. “Look at this.”
Astrid and Snotlout came to stand on either side of him. “What is it?” Snotlout asked.
“It’s us!” Astrid cried, tracing the lines as Fishlegs had. There were lines for each of them, labeled with little drawings of their dragons - lines that tracked their movements from island to island across the archipelago for the last week or so.
“Oh, my Thor.” Snotlout scratched at the little drawing of the Monstrous Nightmare. “You were right, Astrid. They were tracking us.”
“Look!” Astrid pointed to a little dot along her line. “That’s where I saw the Dragon Hunter ship the other day.” She followed her line until she came to another little dot. She tapped it. “Okay, I get it. These dots are where Dragon Hunter ships saw us flying.”
“Right.” Fishlegs followed his own line, which stopped at Dragon’s Edge from last night. “They must all report to each other when they see us, and compile their data, and then fill in the lines based on where they think our destinations are. See, this is the first time we’ve been spotted today, so they haven’t marked down any movement since last night.”
Astrid traced his line with a shaking finger, all the way back to the starting point, where they had first begun their tracking. A little Gronckle was drawn beside it. “Gronckle,” she said. She tapped hers. “Nadder.” She moved her hand around the board, logging all of them. “Nightmare. Zippleback.” Her breath caught as her hand landed on the map on a final time. “Hiccup.”
“Trace it! Trace it!” Snotlout practically yelled.
Her fingers followed the line as it swooped from island to island. “Here’s when he saw Mala for the last time,” she said, marking a point at Defenders of the Wing Island. “And then- look!” There was one other dot, heading further away from the Edge, eastward bound from Defenders of the Wing. A solitary dot in the middle of the sea, just on the edge of the map. The line ended there.
“Oh, gods.” Fishlegs raised his hand to the last spot, too. “They saw him. They saw him last.”
“Do you think they have him?” Snotlout asked.
“Well if they don’t, they might soon.” Astrid rushed to the far corner of the map and wrenched out the nail that pinned it to the wall. “C’mon,” she said. “We need to hurry. And we’re taking this with us.”
“Come on, come on,” Hiccup muttered, flicking through another page and willing himself to concentrate on the healer’s notes. It was getting increasingly difficult with every hour that passed. The runes on the page swam in and out of focus for a few maddening moments, and Hiccup set the book down with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. He could still feel the thin sheen of sweat that refused to leave him. Gods, he was thirsty. He reached for his canteen and took a deep, unsatisfying drink.
Toothless’ head appeared over the edge of the table. With a quiet warble, he nudged the saddlebag that laid on the desk next to Hiccup. It slid towards him, and a piece of bread rolled out.
“No, thanks, bud.” Hiccup winced inwardly at the weak whisper his voice had become. “Not hungry.”
Toothless huffed at him.
“I’ll have it later. Right now, I really need to figure this out. I’m so close. There’s gotta be something I’m missing.” He pulled a different notebook towards himself and opened it to a random page. The words and sketches pulled out of focus, and then the rest of the world followed. Hiccup groaned and closed his eyes, putting his head down on the desk.
He waited to feel marginally better.
It wasn’t happening.
“Oh, gods,” he breathed, sitting up again, trying to calm his racing heart. “I’m running out of time. I have to figure this out now.” He glanced at the book again, but the words were still illegible. “Okay, forget that.” He shoved the books away from him and held his head in hands. “I already know all of it anyway. We just gotta- we gotta talk it out, okay, Toothless?”
Toothless rumbled supportively; Hiccup felt the weight of his head on his lap.
“Okay, what’s causing this? I need to know how it spreads. It wasn’t anything the visiting tribe brought, because they burned all of that.” Hiccup held up a finger. “It wasn’t anything confined to the area that was walled off, because that didn’t work.” He put up another finger. His heart skipped a beat and the world swam again; Hiccup clenched onto the table to stay upright.
When the moment passed, he opened his eyes to see Toothless staring up at him. “Uh, where- where was I?”
Toothless cooed at him.
“Okay, come on, I can figure this out.” He gripped the table tighter in frustration, felt his nails did into the rough wood. He tried to forget the horrible color the skin around his nail beds had turned. “It wasn’t something they ate, because none of them ate the same thing. It has to be something universal - something everyone had. Every location in the village. Every age.”
Hiccup turned back to the desk and slumped over it slowly, being careful not to tug at his ribs the wrong way. “It couldn’t be in the air,” Hiccup reasoned, “because I couldn’t have got it. It would have drifted away by now.” He lowered his head over his arms and stared out at the healer’s room blankly. “It has to be something I came into contact with. Something I…” He trailed off, retracing his and Toothless’ steps. The most he had interacted with things had been in the walled off part of the village, but everything there had been burnt away. Besides, the wall hadn’t stopped the disease from spreading. “Something everybody came into contact with.”
He dropped his gaze to the tabletop, scanning the haphazardly piled notebooks and sheathes of paper. “Something… Something that everyone couldn’t avoid contact with. Like… like something everyone needs.” His eyes widened; yes, he was just on the edge of an answer. He could feel it on the tip of his tongue. His eyes swept the rest of the table, searching for inspiration. A pencil. His saddlebag. The roll of bread. The canteen.
“Oh, gods.” Hiccup sat up straight.
His change in tone had Toothless sitting upright immediately. They met eyes.
“Oh, gods,” Hiccup said again. “I’m so stupid,” he whispered. “I was- I was too slow.” His heart seemed to skip a few beats this time, and then race forward unsteadily, the pace irregular, wrong.
Toothless made a frantic, impatient noise; he wanted to know.
Hiccup swallowed, his throat dry. He gestured loosely towards the tabletop. “It’s in the water. From the well. And I’ve been… drinking it.”
The world swirled into an incomprehensible mess again, but this time it continued to fade away. He heard Toothless roaring, and then silence and darkness smothered him.
Fishlegs yelped and lurched forward, knocking Meatlug off course.
"Oh, what now?" Snotlout spun Hookfang around with a long-suffering sigh. He and Astrid watched as Fishlegs untangled himself from a Terrible Terror.
"It's mail," he said, pulling a scroll off the Terror. It flew away as Fishlegs unrolled it. His face paled.
"What? What is it?" Snotlout asked.
"It's from the twins at the Edge!" Astrid waved a hand nervously in Snotlout's direction. "Is Hiccup back?"
Fishlegs shook his head grimly. He held the paper out towards them; there were only three words, scrawled hastily across the page in large runes.
COME BACK NOW
Chapter Text
The familiar shape of Dragon’s Edge rose up from the curvature of the horizon, silhouetted against the blazing orange of the setting sun. Astrid gripped Stormfly’s saddle tighter as they drew nearer, noted the hazy purple clouds that scraped the island’s highest peaks. Perhaps sensing Astrid’s urgency, Stormfly flew faster, and their network of buildings came into view.
“Nothing actively on fire, at least,” Astrid commented, lips pressed tightly together.
“Maybe it’s good news,” Fishlegs said tentatively. “Come back now,” he repeated. “It might be anything. Maybe we’re stressing over nothing. Maybe Hiccup’s back.”
Snotlout scoffed. “What, and they didn’t think to put that in the letter? Come back now. Hiccup’s here?”
“You saw the handwriting, Fishlegs.” Astrid shook her head. “Ruff isn’t the neatest person, but that scrawl was desperate. There’s definitely something wrong.” She glared at the sun, setting quickly behind the ocean, steadily pulling its light from the skies. “We wasted the day flying halfway to Defenders of the Wing Island and back again thanks to that message. If there’s nothing catastrophic happening, I’m going to kill them.”
They closed the distance to Dragon’s Edge in tense silence. The Edge itself was silent, too, the buildings and gangways and paths deserted. Throk’s ship was docked at the harbor, empty and still on the dark surface of the waves. They flew low over it, rattling the ship and fluttering its sails as they passed, then set down on the landing strip in front of the stables.
“Hello?” Astrid called, sliding off Stormfly and sprinting for the Clubhouse. Someone unlatched the stable doors behind her. “Ruff? Tuff?” Astrid called, veering around the corner of the Clubhouse and rushing through the open doorway. She stopped inside, panting.
Ruff, Tuff, and Throk were all there, sitting quietly around the crackling fire in the center. Throk was his usual solemn self, but the twins were equally serious, motionless in their places. Tuffnut didn’t look at her. Ruffnut’s hands were trembling in her lap. Noticing Astrid’s stare, she clenched them into fists and stood, taking up a scroll from the table.
Astrid could hardly force out the air to speak, but her whisper seemed to carry across the room anyway. “What happened?”
Ruffnut held the scroll out towards her mutely, just as Fishlegs and Snotlout thundered into the room, nearly knocking into Astrid.
“What’s going on?” Snotlout advanced on Astrid. “Lemme see,” he said, grabbing the scroll from Astrid’s hands. He unfurled it and began to read aloud. “You have Dragon Eye lenses, and are missing Hiccup.” He gulped audibly, reading faster. “We have a Dragon Eye in need of lenses. And we have Hiccup.”
Astrid gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth. Fishlegs mumbled incomprehensibly and sunk back against the wall.
“Let’s make a deal,” Snotlout read, a tremor in his low tone. “As a show of good faith, we’ll trade Hiccup for just one lens. Choose wisely. Come at dawn.” He lowered the scroll. “It’s from Krogan,” he said. A map showing the meeting place was etched carefully beneath his signature. He stumbled towards the center of the room, setting the scroll back on the table. He let out a breath. “Okay,” he said. “What do we do now?”
Astrid and Fishlegs hurried to the table, too, and the twins stood beside them, huddling close. Astrid slid the scroll in front of herself and traced the map. “This is a rocky island,” she said. “Lots of tunnels. I remember mapping this one with Hiccup.”
“I say we bring all our dragons, round up all the wild ones we can, and blast away.” Snotlout banged a fist on the table for emphasis.
Astrid shook her head slowly. “I don’t like that they picked the meeting spot. They’ll have the upper hand. They’re probably there already, setting things up. If we make this a fight, you can be sure they’ll be ready.”
“But it’s not like they’re just going to hand Hiccup over to us,” Fishlegs said. “Right?”
“Don’t forget about the Dragon Eye lens,” Ruffnut added. “If we really trade one, you know Hiccup’s gonna be furious.”
“I don’t understand.” Fishlegs rubbed at his forehead. “Why are they asking for a ransom now? How long have they had him?”
“What have they been doing to him?” Tuffnut asked darkly.
“Hey.” Ruffnut elbowed her brother. “We don’t need that kind of negativity, bro. If we just have a plan–”
“If we get enough dragons–”
“If we have a strategy–”
“Excuse me, Dragon Riders.” Throk pressed himself into their huddle, his commanding voice cutting off the babble of confused debate. They all looked at him. “I believe I know the best course of action.”
“You have a plan?” Astrid asked.
Throk shook his head. “It is not my plan,” he said. “It is Hiccup Haddock’s.”
They stood in shocked silence.
Fishlegs shook his head. “What do you mean, it’s Hiccup’s?”
Throk turned to Snotlout. “Do you remember when you came upon my ship on my way here, and informed me that Hiccup was missing?”
Snotlout nodded.
“Do you also remember that I mentioned the contingency plan which Hiccup discussed with Queen Mala and myself?”
A flash of recognition shot across Snotlout’s face. “Oh, yeah!” he said. “Mala mentioned it to me, too, but I didn’t really care at the time.”
“What plan is that?” Astrid asked. “How would it work for this?”
“Why didn’t he tell us?” Tuffnut grumbled.
Fishlegs waved a dismissive hand at him. “You know Hiccup. He works on things by himself until he gets it ready, then he tells everyone. What’s the plan?” he asked Throk. The rest of the riders pressed in eagerly.
“A few days ago, Hiccup Haddock came to Defenders of the Wing Island and asked to speak with Queen Mala. Of course, I was invited to join the discussion as well. Hiccup summarized our current problem,” he said, “in that Krogan is in search of Dragon Eye lenses, and has been attacking all of us from many angles to get at them. Hiccup reasoned that eventually one of his attempts was bound to put us in a difficult position that would force our hand. Therefore, we would need a contingency plan in case we must give up a lens, or several. He had come up with an elegant solution, and had come to inform us of the plan and receive our feedback.” Throk nodded to himself. “It is a clever idea,” he said, “but its sole drawback is that it will only work once. We must use it only when forced into it. But it seems now is the time. I only hope he had it prepared in advance.”
Ruffnut waved him on impatiently. “Well? What is it?”
“His plan was to offer fake Dragon Eye lenses.”
“Fake?” Astrid asked, her brows knitting together. “Where do we get fake lenses?”
Throk shook his head. “We do not get them. Hiccup built them.”
Astrid’s features slackened in surprise for a moment, then something warm welled up within her. A rising sense of hope that started to ebb away at the edges of her anxiety. Hiccup had already thought of a way out of their situation. She smiled slightly, let herself recall the spark in his eyes when he thought up a scheme; his toothy half-smile as he scrawled incomprehensible notes across the nearest piece of parchment; the sure, steady, unfailing movements of his hands as he worked with metal and wood and string, as unerring as Gobber and as fluid as the rushing rivers of snowmelt on Berk. He made it seem as easy as breathing. She recalled the glowing light of the forge, catching the reddish hue in his hair as he bent over the work table.
Astrid pulled herself back into the present. Fishlegs was pelting Throk with questions about how the fake lenses were designed, how real they appeared.
“He studied the frames of the lenses and worked with bronze, meticulously crafting each detail to match. The lens itself he fashioned out of a kind of quartz, I believe. He did not bring one to show us, but given his attention to detail and his skill as a blacksmith, I am certain his work will easily pass as authentic.” Throk glanced around at them all, gauging their responses, and Astrid nodded her agreement with the rest of them. “I suggest we use his contingency plan now,” he said, “and trade a fake lens to see Hiccup Haddock safely returned.”
“Yes!” Snotlout banged his fist on the table again.
“Very well,” Throk said. “The only problem–”
“No!” Snotlout groaned and dragged a hand across his face.
“–is that I do not know where he might have kept his work,” Throk finished.
“That’s not a problem,” Fishlegs said, the ghost of a smile quirking the corners of his lips. He drew himself up to his full height. “I know where Hiccup keeps things,” he said. Then he turned, snagged a torch from the wall, and led the way to Hiccup’s hut.
They walked along the rope bridges in the dusk, the dancing flame from Fishlegs’ torch lighting the way, rippling its golden glow along the path. Fishlegs pulled open Hiccup’s door and strode purposefully inside. The others followed at his heels, but Astrid strayed behind, her eyes caught on Hiccup’s display of Toothless’ tail fins, each arrayed in their own designs and patterns, colorful or simple, practical or flamboyant. She had studied these while he was packing, the night before he left.
Taking a spare? she had asked.
He had glanced up from Toothless’ saddle bag, followed her gaze, and grinned. Of course!
And a spare for your spare?
He had laughed, softly, warmly. Usually, yes, but I’m packing light this time, he had said as he continued to pack and repack the bag, rearranging things with an eager intensity. Besides, we’re going on a break, not to battle. He had stood back to gaze at his most recent packing job, nodding appreciatively, then his gaze had drifted up to meet hers. One last flight? He had nodded to his open door, to the star-streaked sky outside.
Gods, how Astrid longed to fly with him again. To see him safe and whole and happy, smiling unrestrainedly as his hair whipped in the rushing wind.
A loud metallic thunk made Astrid turn away from the tail fins and the memories of Hiccup in flight. The others were gathered in one corner of the room, where Fishlegs had wrenched open a large trunk. She crossed to them and wormed her way into the group. The bottom of the trunk was littered with what looked, at first glance, like junk. Bits of wood, metal, and stone. Crystalline pieces glinted in the firelight.
Fishlegs reached down and rummaged through the debris. His hand latched onto something. “Wow!” he breathed, pulling it up and holding it high for everyone to see. It was a completed Dragon Eye lens, indistinguishable from the real thing.
“Whoa!” Tuffnut snagged it out of Fishlegs’ grip and examined it closely, Ruffnut pressing in, too. “Are you sure this isn’t one of the real ones?” he asked, turning it over and squinting suspiciously.
Astrid took it from Tuffnut and ran her thumb over it, feeling the grooves that Hiccup had painstakingly copied. “It’s amazing.”
Fishlegs sighed in relief and sat down on a nearby barrel. “Well, now that we have that, we at least know what we’re doing. Making the trade, as agreed. We won’t start anything or make any fuss, because we don’t want them to– well, we want Hiccup back without trouble.”
“Agreed,” Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins said simultaneously.
“But the Edge will still need to be guarded.” Astrid shifted. “Someone will have to stay.”
“I will stay,” Throk said. “I will remain here as long as necessary to help your efforts. I am sure Queen Mala has already offered you my services.”
“Thanks, Throk,” Astrid said. “But we do also need someone who knows the Edge’s defense systems.”
Snotlout sighed. Everyone avoided each other’s gaze.
“I’ll stay,” Fishlegs said.
Cool relief coursed through Astrid’s veins. “Are you sure?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. It’ll suck,” he said, “but I’ll stay.”
“Thanks, Fishlegs,” Astrid said. Snotlout and the twins nodded their agreement.
Fishlegs nodded, then cleared his throat. “You need to be there at dawn, and that means we’re all getting up insanely early, so I, for one, am going to get some sleep.”
“And we,” Ruffnut said, “for three.” She and Tuffnut trailed after Fishlegs and disappeared out of the frame of Hiccup’s doorway.
“Keep that safe.” Snotlout pointed at the fake lens still clasped in Astrid’s hands. He nodded to her and left.
“Good night, Astrid Hofferson.” Throk smiled politely and headed for the door, too. He paused at the edge of the room and looked back, a sympathetic look softening his stocky features. “The gods be with you tomorrow.”
Before Astrid could think of a response, he had gone. She stood there alone in Hiccup’s hut, holding the lens he had built. “Tomorrow,” she told herself aloud. Then she shut Hiccup’s door, turned, and mounted the stairs to his bed.
Snotlout and Hookfang touched ground just after Astrid and Stormfly, Hookfang’s talons gouging the island’s pebbled shore. Beside him, Barf and Belch landed, Ruff and Tuff looking grim. Snotlout sighed and slid off Hookfang, following Astrid to the two Hunters stationed at the entrance to a tunnel. More Hunters tracked them from their positions along the beach and atop the cliffs, staring as they sat hunched in dinghies pulled ashore, or glowering down from sharp cliff edges, bows in hand, arrows knocked and held loosely.
“Krogan will meet you inside,” said one of the Hunters.
Snotlout peered into the tunnel entrance. There was a flickering light somewhere within, throwing twisting shadows along the narrow walls.
“Where’s Hiccup?” Astrid demanded.
The Hunter gestured shortly at the tunnel. “Inside,” he said.
Astrid squared her shoulders and marched forward, the twins following in her footsteps. Snotlout spared one last glance at their dragons, waiting on the shore, tails twitching nervously, their fierce gazes alert and suspicious. Snotlout swallowed, mouthed a quick prayer to Odin, then hurried down the tunnel after his friends.
After a few twisting turns, the tunnel opened to a straightaway with a slightly larger diameter. They walked single-file to squeeze beside a tall wooden crate on a pallet. Once they passed it, they saw Krogan. He stood alone in the tunnel, holding a torch aloft for light. His lips twisted into a malevolent smirk when he saw them. “Hello.” His deep voice carried through the tunnel, echoing off the walls and bouncing back at them from every angle.
“Where’s Hiccup?”
“Do you have the Dragon Eye lens?”
“Yes. And you won’t see it until we see Hiccup.” Astrid folded her arms.
Krogan laughed, a deep rumble that reverberated through the earth. He walked towards them, and they edged away from him warily, automatically parting to let him through. “You’ve already seen him,” he said. He stood beside the wooden crate and kicked it.
A muffled shout came from the crate. Thuds against the sides.
A shudder swept through Snotlout’s entire body. Tuffnut stumbled backwards. Ruffnut gasped, the sound clear and sharp in the caves.
Snotlout clenched his fists, his voice coming in a growl as he advanced towards Krogan. “You let him out of there, you–”
“Here.” Astrid interrupted him with a strong and steady pronouncement that rang through the hall. Snotlout gritted his teeth and looked back at her. She was pale, her chest heaving with labored breaths, but her hand was steady as it held up Hiccup’s lens. She looked away from Krogan for a split second to give Snotlout a meaningful glance. No trouble. They had agreed.
Snotlout bit the inside of his cheek and retreated a few steps, turning his gaze back to Krogan.
Krogan’s smirk grew. He extended his hand pointedly.
Astrid tossed it to him.
Krogan caught it, examined it in the firelight. “Beautiful,” he said. “Exactly what we agreed.”
“And now,” Astrid said, “Hiccup.”
“Yes.” Krogan nodded. “Hiccup.” He turned to the crate beside him and knelt down, even with the lock.
Then he shoved his flaming torch into the pallet and ran.
“Hey!” Snotlout screamed as the pallet ignited instantly. The flames grew high and burned hot, licking up the sides of the crate as the thumping and yelling from within became more frantic.
Snotlout, Astrid, and the twins rushed forward, vaguely registering Krogan’s shouted orders to leave the island as he exited the tunnel. Tuffnut grabbed at the lock, producing a piece of metal from nowhere, but he pulled his hand away with a shout, his fingers and palm red. The edges of the box were beginning to blacken. Smoke filled the tunnel, obscuring their view and irritating their eyes and throats.
“Tip it over!” Astrid yelled between hacking coughs. “Now!” Together, the four of them rushed the crate, shoving hard. It tipped onto its back and crashed to the other side of the pallet, out of the fire.
They scrambled to the crate. Snotlout ripped off his vest and used it to put out the remaining flames. “Don’t worry, cuz!” he yelled, swiping at his eyes, watery from the smoke. “We’re getting you out!”
Ruffnut took the metal piece from Tuffnut and ducked around Snotlout. She grabbed his ashy vest and used it to hold the lock aloft. She picked it in an instant, then swung the lid open with an almighty tug; it slammed against the rocky earth in a cloud of dust. Ruff got on her hands and knees on the lid, reaching forward to pull Hiccup out, but she stopped with her arm halfway extended.
“Ah!” she cried, scrambling backwards.
“What? What is it?” Astrid asked, her voice cracking. “Is he–?”
Someone rolled out of the crate, landing heavily on the lid with gasping breaths and coughs.
It wasn’t Hiccup.
The riders stared at the newly-freed Dragon Hunter, frozen in shock as the fire continued to crackle behind them. Some of the smoke began to drift away in the chilly draft.
Tuffnut clutched the horns of his helmet. “Who are you?”
The Hunter’s name was lost between his gasps and coughs, but Snotlout didn’t care. His name didn’t matter. He knelt down in front of him, Astrid doing the same. “We just saved your life–”
“Not on purpose!” Ruff interjected.
“–so you owe us some answers. And if you don’t feel like talking, I’m more than happy to make you.” Snotlout cracked his knuckles, feeling wrath rising within him, blood rushing to his cheeks.
The Hunter spluttered and pushed himself away from them, backing up against the cave wall. “I’m talking, I’m talking!” he said.
“Where’s Hiccup?” Astrid asked again. “For real, this time.”
The Hunter shook his head. “Don’t know. Never had him.”
“You–what?”
The Hunter nodded quickly, swallowing. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. He spoke frantically, the words stumbling from his mouth in quick succession. “We started tracking you lot. Didn’t spot Hiccup for a while, noticed the rest of you flying around here and there. The boss figured Hiccup was missing, took a gamble on it. Set up this trade with a fake bargaining chip. If Hiccup wasn’t really missing, you wouldn’t have responded, but I guess his bluff worked this time.”
Snotlout dropped back onto the cave floor and cursed.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Ruffnut pleaded.
The Hunter shook his head. “I’m telling you the truth; I swear my life on it.”
“Well.” The others turned to watch Astrid, who had her arms wound around herself so tightly it looked like she was trying to break her own ribs. Her jaw was clenched equally tightly, her words short and clipped. “Nothing here for us then. Let’s go.” She stomped around the Hunter and back towards the tunnel entrance and the now-deserted beach.
“Y-you’re not gonna kill me?” The Hunter asked hopefully.
Snotlout huffed. “Nah,” he said. “Look what just happened. Your boss’ll do that for us.” Then he turned and marched after Astrid, the twins bringing up the rear.
Astrid strode straight to Stormfly and mounted her without a word.
The twins exchanged glances. “Back to the Edge then?” Ruffnut asked.
“No,” Astrid said. “We’re not wasting time stopping at the Edge, not again. We’ll send a message to Fishlegs, and we’ll keep pushing on to Defenders of the Wing Island. We should have been there yesterday, looking–” Her voice broke off but she didn’t need to finish.
Snotlout swung onto Hookfang’s saddle and ran a hand across his dragon’s scales, trying to focus on the comforting texture rather than the heaviness on his shoulders. They launched into the thick clouds that hid the morning sun, their dragons’ wings swirling the misty atmosphere around them.
“If they really don’t have Hiccup,” Tuffnut said, “that means no one has seen him. Where is he? Why has he been gone so long? Why– why hasn’t he come back yet?”
A metallic clunk rang through the air; Ruffnut had bludgeoned her brother’s helmet. She nodded towards Astrid.
Snotlout followed her gaze, too. Astrid swiped at her eyes silently.
The others said nothing.
Snotlout closed his eyes and felt the wind rush past him, tugging at his clothes. In his mind, he called on all the gods he could name. Please, let him be alive.
Notes:
[A/N: Finally, another chapter for you guys! Sorry to those of you who have been requesting more Hiccup in this story, but don’t worry–the next chapter’s all his! After that, the remaining chapters will go back to alternating between Hiccup and Toothless and the rest of the dragon riders. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review below if you feel like it; they always make my day. Catch ya later. - who is sabrina.]
Chapter 8: Definite Improvements
Chapter Text
Hiccup was lying on something soft. A breeze rifled through his sweat-slick bangs, feeling blessedly cool against his fevered skin. Water bubbled gently nearby, the idyllic sound accompanied by the comforting crackle of a fire. A heady, earthy smell filled his nostrils. He opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut against the sunlight. Blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the light, he took in the scene around him.
He was sprawled on thick, spongey grass and damp soil. The blades of grass in front of his face were tipped with the last of the morning dew, shimmering in the sunlight like glass. Beyond that, there was a small dip in the landscape, where a creek ran. The water murmured through the rocks. Birds sung. And in the distance, the ocean waves whispered their endless secrets.
Hiccup scrunched up his face. Where was he? This was, at least, not Valhalla; the absence of feasting halls and the presence of his pain and sickness spoke to that. Groaning, he tried to sit up and failed, collapsing back onto his elbows. He panted a few breaths then tried again, managing it this time. He scanned the surrounding landscape with bewildered curiosity. To his left, the land rose sharply upward on a mountainous incline, the grass and occasional pine giving way to speckled phaneritic rock. To his right, a tree branch crackled merrily in flames, black smoke billowing high into the sky. Past the makeshift campfire, the land sloped down to some unseen destination.
“Toothless?” Hiccup croaked, surveying the landscape again. His dragon was nowhere to be seen. Bracing his hands against the supple grass, Hiccup shoved himself to his knees, and then, with effort, stood. He swayed precariously for a heart-stopping moment as the world grayed. When his vision faded back to normal, he shuffled towards the slope of the hill.
The gentle slope ended abruptly nearby, falling off to a wide plateau below. Hiccup could see a village with half its houses blackened by ash, a great wall erected in the middle. The village. Knowing they were still on the island brought Hiccup both weariness and relief. It would feel amazing to leave this island behind, if they could make it that far, but there were things he needed to take care of first.
Turning away from the cliff, Hiccup stumbled to the creek. He dropped to his knees at the water’s edge and glanced upstream to follow the creek’s path as far as he could. It came down from the snowy mountaintop, pristine waters filtering down through volcanic rock. Clean. Pure. Uncontaminated. Bless Toothless for taking him here. He bent down and drank from the stream, relishing the icy cold against the smoldering heat within him.
The rush of wings made him look up, and he smiled. Toothless swooped low, fish heads and tails sticking out of his mouth, and landed lightly beside the fire. He spilled his catch out onto the earth, then bounded over to Hiccup with an ecstatic warble.
“Hey, bud,” Hiccup greeted happily, allowing himself to fall against his dragon in a hug. Toothless never minded bearing his weight. Hiccup ran his hands over his dragon’s dry scales; the ocean water had slid off them at the speed of his flight. Hiccup scratched beneath Toothless’ chin where he liked it. “Thank you.”
Toothless crooned a response, then positioned himself to help Hiccup to the fireside. Once there, he nosed a fish towards his rider.
“Thanks,” Hiccup said again. His heartbeat fluttered, and he swallowed uneasily. “I’m not really hungry,” he said, “but I guess I should eat something.” He glanced around for the nearest tree stand, then gestured towards it. “Hey, bud, would you mind getting me a stick?” he asked. “You know, for cooking?”
Toothless warbled obligingly and padded over to the tree stand. After a few seconds of rooting around, he came back with a long stick in his mouth.
“Thanks, bud.” Hiccup took the stick from him and pulled the dagger from his clothes. He set the edge of the blade against the bark and swallowed. His heart still paced strangely, the fire within him continued to burn, and the weight of dread settled immovably in his stomach. But he had enough strength for this. He curled his fingers around the handle of the dagger, then swept the blade down the wood with a trembling hand, watching the bark curl away and fall to the grass. He rotated the stick and repeated the cycle until a sharpened edge appeared. He speared it through the fish, set it up carefully over the fire, then sat back to wait.
Toothless gulped down his own breakfast, swallowing fish and eyeing Hiccup between each one.
Hiccup gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry, bud,” he said. “I’m not giving up. I’m gonna figure out what this is, and how to cure it.” He reached out and stroked Toothless, listening to the gentle island breeze, the crackling flames, the low sizzle of the fish over the fire. Bass, he noted belatedly. It made him think of Tuffnut’s infamous salt-crusted sea bass, and he smiled. Something in his heart twanged, and he wasn’t sure if it was the disease or the sudden stab of emotion, but he missed them. He missed all of them, and all of the crazy shenanigans that came with them, all of the best things, all of the worst. He missed the twins’ hilarious quips and their reckless irresponsibility. Snotlout’s fierce loyalty and his aggressive displays of insecurity. Fishlegs’ thoughtful insight and his fearful hesitation. And Astrid.
He wished they had found some Terrors on this island so he could have sent her a message, just to let her know he was alive. For now, at least. He wished she had some way of knowing, some way of understanding that he was thinking about her. That when he brushed sawdust off the table he recalled brushing her hair out of her face. That when he sat beside the fire he missed her beside him. That the braids in his hair were beginning to come undone again, and that he wanted them fixed–that he wanted the visible impression of Astrid’s presence.
Hiccup sighed and clenched his fists. “We’re going to get out of this, bud,” he said. Toothless stared back at him and nodded, eyes narrowing slightly in shared determination. “I’m gonna beat this, whatever it takes,” Hiccup said. He pulled his fish off the fire and forced himself to eat while his mind spun through plans and back-up plans. “We’ll head back down to the village before we leave,” he said. “I want to take the healer’s notes with us. They’re our best chance for figuring this out. And we’ll need to block that well, of course. We don’t want anyone else doing what we did. Once we’ve taken care of that, we can finally get out of here. Hopefully.” He glanced at Toothless’ tail, curled behind him. “Can I check your fin, bud?”
Toothless swung his tail over to Hiccup, who pulled it into his lap. The prosthetic tail fin was canvassed with the fabric they had found in the ruined forge. Fragile though it was, Hiccup had doubled and even tripled it in places to give it added strength against the wind, and had sewn it with careful attention. He ran his fingers along the stitches. They still held. But the fabric was damp from the ocean, crusted with a thin layer of salt from the evaporated salt water. It rubbed away under his fingertips, grains accumulating beneath his nails. He pressed against the fabric; it yielded only slightly. It was more brittle now, less flexible. He frowned. “I guess your fishing run didn’t do your tail any favors.”
Toothless crooned apologetically.
“Don’t feel bad, bud. You did what you had to do.” Hiccup released his dragon’s tail and rubbed his scales instead. “I just hope it’ll hold long enough to get us out of here.” He inhaled sharply as pain shot through his chest again. He said nothing aloud, but inwardly he wondered whether he himself could hold long enough to leave. He gritted his teeth. Of course he could. He must.
He laid his partially eaten fish on the ground and closed his eyes against his rising light-headedness. He placed his hand against Toothless’ scales and anchored himself to the inhales and exhales of his dragon. To the powerful beat of wings against the sky. To the steady twisting of Astrid’s fingers as she braided his hair, her breath warm against his neck. To the ebb and flow of the tides on the shores of Dragon’s Edge. To his father’s heavy footsteps as he led him through Berk. To the rhythmic pinging of the hammer and the anvil in Gobber’s forge.
When he felt steadied, he opened his eyes. The fire burnt low, radiating heat. Toothless remained beside him, waiting patiently. Hiccup let out a long breath. “You ready, bud?”
Toothless rumbled affirmatively and stood.
Hiccup clambered atop the saddle, short of breath. Then he laid a hand on Toothless’ broad head. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
Toothless unfurled his wings with an audible rustle, then they launched into the late morning sun.
A ripping sound rent the air. Toothless roared in alarm.
“Oh, gods.” Hiccup whirled in the saddle, staring at Toothless’ tail fin as they soared above the island, nearing the village. The fabric was beginning to tear; a streak of the forest below them was visible in the slender gap that streaked through the canvas. “No, no, no,” Hiccup muttered, eyes fixed on the fabric. “Please hold. Please hold.” As Hiccup watched, the tear grew, and they lost altitude immediately, Toothless roaring again.
Hiccup glanced up front. They were close to the village. So close, and yet not quite there. “Faster, bud,” Hiccup said, his voice raspy with sickness and strain. “We gotta make it.” He turned to watch the fabric, his heart racing in his chest, thready and fast. “Stay together,” he whispered, watching the fabric flutter in the wind. “Stay together.” His fingers scrabbled against the saddle as a wave of weakness washed through him, and he felt himself slip a little. When the feeling passed, he righted himself and clasped the saddle with all the strength he could muster. He watched the fabric flicker. “Stay together.”
Toothless roared. Hiccup looked ahead. They were on the edge of the village. Hope swept through him in a dizzying rush. “Land! Land!” he cried.
Toothless dived.
The tail fin ripped.
Hiccup screamed as they plummeted, his shouts intermingling with Toothless’ panicked roars. They were heading straight for one of the unburnt houses near the center of the village, standing solid and unrelenting.
“No! No!” Hiccup jarred his prosthetic leg, clicking the gears of Toothless’ prosthetic fin. Toothless dipped his wings in an attempt to swerve. But both of their efforts were fruitless.
“Toothless!” Hiccup gripped the saddle with both hands and clenched his eyes shut, bracing for impact.
Toothless slammed into the roof of the house, splintering wood with a bone-shattering crunch and sending debris in every direction. Hiccup held tight, but his fingers, slick with sweat, slid off the polished leather, and he was propelled forward, out of the house and into the village square.
Noises faded through the high-pitched ringing in Hiccup’s ears. Crashing. Draconic roars. The low creaking of wood.
Hiccup opened his eyes slowly. The world was a blur of muffled sound and muted pain. A spasm ran through his fingers. His breaths were hitched, stabbing. The sounds in the background continued on, meaninglessly.
He blinked. Blinked again. The world began to slide into focus. His breathing grew louder in his ears. Then the world snapped back into place, sharp and clear. He was lying on his back on the hard ground, staring at the cobbled stones that made up the village well. Toothless was roaring from somewhere nearby.
“Tooth–?” Hiccup’s voice cut off abruptly, his breath ripped away by the pain as he tried to sit up. He fell back onto the earth, his breath returning in gasps. Bad idea.
He laid there for a while, shouldering the pain, forcing his breaths into a more even tempo as he watched the clouds drift overhead. He sat up more slowly this time, fingers digging into the dirt. The ruined house was just in front of him, its roof caved in, collapsed beams pressing against the windows. Toothless roared in panic from within, stuck. Boards clattered as the dragon writhed in his frantic attempts to escape.
There was a flash of brilliant purple as Toothless fired a plasma blast; more debris crashed inside the house. He was making his way out. Hiccup sighed quietly in relief, then turned to consider the well beside him. The well responsible for the death of an entire village. He could imagine the people gathering the water, unsuspecting. Chatting happily with their empty jars, buckets, and barrels. Children running around, laughing.
Hiccup closed his eyes beneath a sudden onslaught of sickness. Het let himself fall back to the ground again while he waited for it to pass. Toothless fired another plasma blast.
Feeling marginally better, Hiccup opened his eyes and stared at the well, waiting for Toothless to come to him. Something caught in his throat. How tragic, what had happened here. How horrible the disease that had gotten into the water.
Hiccup frowned, his brows knitting together as the examined the well-built structure, the sturdy wooden roof that covered it. How had the disease gotten in to begin with? It looked like the well was the only access point to the underground reservoir; they hadn’t come across any places with groundwater drainage on the island, as far as they could tell. So how had the disease gotten into the well?
“Gotten in,” he repeated aloud. He sat up, struck by a sudden thought.
Another plasma blast sounded, and Toothless came crashing out of the house at last. He bounded towards his rider immediately, warbling his distress. Hiccup watched him as he came, glad to see that his dragon was moving smoothly and naturally. Unharmed.
“’M okay, bud,” Hiccup murmured as Toothless reached him and began to sniff him searchingly. Hiccup patted Toothless’ head absentmindedly, still considering the well. “Help me up,” he said.
Toothless nosed his head beneath Hiccup’s arm and helped his rider to his feet. Hiccup stood, leaning heavily on his dragon. Then he tested his balance, taking his own weight. He didn’t fall. He started towards the rim of the well.
Toothless beat him to it, placing himself between Hiccup and the well, growling quietly.
Hiccup gave him a wan half-smile. “I appreciate the concern, bud,” he said, “but I’ve already got the disease. I just… I have a hunch, and I want to check it out.”
Toothless grumbled his displeasure, but allowed Hiccup to pass.
“Remember how I told you that when the villagers first started getting sick, they thought it had come from the visiting tribe? And they burnt all the things the other tribe had brought, but it did nothing?” Hiccup leaned on the edge of the well as Toothless grunted a response.
“But since we realized the disease was spreading through the water, I started to wonder whether the visiting tribe had brought it after all. But this also didn’t quite make sense, because the visiting tribe appeared healthy when they left, remember?” He gestured at his dragon conversationally, still leaning over the well and peering down into the darkness. “But then I remembered what the healer had written about the visiting tribe earlier–that their visit had ended in disaster. Originally, the two tribes planned to form an alliance, but the proceedings had gone badly, and the tribe had left in dire circumstances, with the two tribes on the brink of war. And that got me thinking, maybe they did bring this after all.”
Hiccup waved Toothless over to the well. His dragon padded over and copied Hiccup’s stance, his two front legs braced against the rim of the well. Hiccup motioned into the watery depths. “Can you do your thing, bud?” he asked.
Toothless rumbled quizzically but complied, roaring into the depths of the well, sending sonic waves into the darkness.
“Is there anything down there?” Hiccup asked.
Toothless crooned affirmatively, and Hiccup grinned.
“Aha!” A new, manic energy began to build within him and he rubbed his hands together, staring into the well eagerly. “Light,” he said. “I need light.” He turned to Toothless and rummaged through the saddle bag, pulling out his sword. He held it above the well and ignited it. The firelight filtered down into the darkness, illuminating the edges of the well, the mismatched rocks that stood out in places, little ledges along the wall. “Perfect!” Hiccup’s hoarse voice echoed back to them as he lowered his sword deeper into the well, searching the protruding edges, eyes alight with heightened awareness.
“There!” he said. What looked like a piece of formed clay was resting on the surface of a protruding rock. “Now, how do I get it?” Hiccup asked aloud.
Toothless grumbled warily.
“No, I’m not gonna try to climb in there, bud.” Hiccup placated his dragon with a wave of his hand. He bit his lip and scanned their surroundings. There were trees at the edges of the village. Hiccup pointed to them. “Toothless, can you grab me a branch?” he asked. “Quickly!” he urged, as Toothless ran off. Then he turned and rummaged through the saddle bag again, pulling out a length of rope. His leg gave out as he pivoted back to the well; he fell against the side of it, panting. He righted himself and unrolled the length of rope as Toothless returned, a branch in his mouth.
“Excellent.” Hiccup laid the rope on the rim of the well and took the branch from Toothless. He produced his dagger and dug the point into the branch, twisting sharply. “I had this vague suspicion, but the pieces didn’t fall into place until just now.” Hiccup continued his frenzied rant, digging into the wood with fervor. “I wondered, why did the disease kill everyone?” Sap began to pool at the tip of the blade. “Not one single person in the whole village was immune? What were the chances of that?” Hiccup dug deeper, breathing heavily, and stopped when the sap began to flow in earnest, trickling slowly out of the hole in the tree, thick and glistening in the sunlight. “And combined with the question of how the disease got into the well in the first place,” he said, dabbing at the sap with his fingertip, “I had a thought. An idea.” He pulled his hand away. The sap clung to his finger like glue. Hiccup made another triumphant sound and, as Toothless watched curiously, dipped one end of the rope in the sticky sap.
“Okay, now hold this here, bud,” he said, angling his sword against the rim of the well so that the light reached the clay object below.
Toothless placed a paw on the hilt of the sword, holding it in place.
“Thanks.” Hiccup lowered the sticky end of the rope into the well, hands trembling in eagerness, or sickness, or both. He lowered it until the sap-covered end touched the clay object on its rocky shelf. He let out a slow breath. “Come on.” He began to raise the rope carefully. The sap stuck to the light object, and pulled it towards the surface.
Hiccup’s heart thrummed in his chest as he raised the rope with precise movements, his stomach roiling in nervous anticipation. “This might be the evidence that proves my theory,” he said. One end of the clay unstuck from the sap, and the object tilted precariously on the end of the rope. Hiccup held his breath, continuing to raise it.
The end of the rope drew even with the top of the well, and Hiccup swung the rope carefully over the side. He breathed a sigh of relief when the object was safely outside the well. He snagged it off the end of the rope, sticky with sap. His knees buckled beneath him and he fell back against the side of the well.
Toothless roared quietly in concern. He appeared at Hiccup’s side, his rider’s sword held carefully between his teeth. He dropped it on the ground and pressed his face against Hiccup’s.
“I’m okay, bud,” Hiccup said automatically, though they both knew he wasn’t. He turned the object over in his hands. It was part of a clay pot, the outside painted in colors Hiccup recognized. “These are the visiting tribe’s colors,” Hiccup breathed, showing Toothless the paint. He recalled them from the healer’s notes. “That means I was right!” His heart jolted, a sense of pride at proving his hunch correct mixing with the crashing dread of the pursuant implications. “Oh, gods. I was right,” he whispered, voice empty and hollow.
“The visiting tribe left with wrath in their hearts. These villagers expected a war,” he said, shaking his head, “but they didn’t know–they’d already lost it.” Hiccup held the clay piece up with shaking fingers. “This is why everyone died. It wasn’t a disease–that would have killed only some of the tribe.” He shook his head. “The visiting tribe threw this pot and its contents in the well before they left, knowing they were dooming the entire village.”
Hiccup closed his eyes, pained and weary. “So you see, I was right,” he said. “It’s not a disease. It’s poison.”
Chapter 9: The Best Yet
Notes:
Happy holidays!
Chapter Text
Toothless followed Hiccup into the healer’s hut, his ruined tail fin scraping lightly against the hardwood floor. He watched Hiccup gather the healer’s books, keeping near him in case he stumbled. Hiccup dropped the books on the table, and half-collapsed onto it himself. The spindly legs shook and the table rattled as Toothless warbled uneasily, shoving his head against Hiccup’s side to help steady him.
“Poisons,” Hiccup murmured. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, darkened with sweat. “Poisons.” He flicked through the books, searching the pages in desperation. “I know I saw them somewhere. Where are you?” He opened two more of the books and flipped through the pages, accidentally tearing a few. “There!”
He pulled the book closer and scanned the page, tapping it with a finger. “There we go,” he said. “A list of poisons and their symptoms.” Hiccup scrambled for a blank piece of parchment and pencil. “I’ll just write down ones that sound like they might be it, and then go back and figure out which one it is for sure. Then I’ll whip up the cure with all the ingredients over there.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the rickety stands of medicinal ingredients against the wall. “Easy.”
Toothless gave a quiet roar, distressed.
“Don’t worry, bud,” he said. “We can figure this out. I know it.” Hiccup gritted his teeth and began to read through the list. “See?” he said, scribbling a note down onto the paper. “It might be this one.” He moved onto the next one, and his frantic smile slid off his features. “Or this one,” he said.
He slouched further over the table, his head in one hand as he continued to scan the book. “Oh, gods. This is gonna be harder than I thought.” He cast a quick sidelong glance at Toothless, chewing his bottom lip. “This’ll take some time.”
Toothless rumbled his concern and cast a glance out the window. It was getting late now, the afternoon steadily giving way to evening. Sunset would come too soon. Toothless paced the floor around the desk, eyeing his rider. Hiccup was already staring at the book with a chillingly dazed expression, not at all like his usual sharpness. His eyelids fluttered occasionally as unconsciousness threatened to pull him under. His hand slipped on the pencil.
It would take time to identify the poison and figure out the cure.
How much time did Hiccup have left?
“You should be resting, should you not?”
Astrid looked up as Mala emerged from the shadowy night, approaching the fireside.
“You will be continuing your search at first light, I understand.” Mala passed by the twins, who were slumped against Barf and Belch in empty silence. She stood beside Astrid and gestured questioningly at the vacant space against Stormfly.
“Yeah, we’re heading out as early as possible,” Astrid said, motioning for Mala to sit. “Snotlout and I will fan out in an easterly direction, since that’s where Hiccup was last spotted. The twins will go the opposite way in case he and Toothless doubled back, or flew elsewhere since then.” She rubbed her hands on the leather of her skirt. “It’s the dragons who really need the rest.”
“I am certain some sleep would be beneficial for all of you as well.” Mala glanced around at them with a small frown, taking obvious note of their strained silence and defeated postures. “But I imagine rest is hard to come by when you are all so busy being worried.”
Astrid’s gaze flicked absently to Snotlout, half expecting him to protest as usual, but his scowl only deepened, and he said nothing. Something twisted in Astrid’s stomach. “Yeah,” she agreed.
Mala cleared her throat delicately. “Feel free to tell me if I am overstepping my boundaries,” she said, “but I do believe you could all use a boost in morale.”
“How are you gonna do that?” Tuffnut asked dully. “Got Hiccup squirreled away somewhere?”
Mala continued undaunted. “I am sure you have heard me say that hope is crucial for morale.”
“I remember you yelling it at Dagur,” Ruffnut said, one corner of her lips twitching up at the memory.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Mala agreed, laughing softly. “Perhaps if you can focus on the hope in the situation, your spirits might be lifted somewhat.”
“What hope?” Snotlout folded his arms and glared into the flickering flames.
“Well,” Mala said, “at least you know that Hiccup and Toothless are together. That should provide some comfort. I have seen the way the dragon protects him. Fiercely, resolutely.”
Stoick had mentioned that, too, Astrid remembered, when she had first told him of Hiccup’s absence. She remembered the subtle warmth of hope that had filled her then. She tried to feel it now. But there were too many days since then. Too many hours without Hiccup, without even a word or a sight or a trace. Too many loose ends and false trails.
“I guess you’re right,” Ruffnut said. Astrid glanced at her; she was frowning in thought.
Snotlout shrugged begrudgingly. “I mean, everyone is safer with their dragon than without.”
Ruffnut sat up, a crease between her eyebrows. “You know, I just thought of something.”
“What is that?” Mala asked.
“I’ve heard Hiccup scream a lot,” she said.
Astrid whipped her head towards Ruffnut so fast she felt something in her neck pop. She rubbed at the sudden warmth. “Are you serious, Ruff? How is that supposed to help?”
“No, no, I mean, when he’s falling,” Ruff added, like that made it better.
Astrid growled.
“You better start making sense, sis,” Tuff said, “otherwise Astrid’s gonna pummel you.” He paused. “Wait, you know what? Keep going.” He waved at her encouragingly, a hint of his usual mischievousness sparking in his eyes.
“Well, you know, he’s always falling off things,” Ruffnut said. “Toothless, cliffs, boats, Toothless, houses, you name it.”
“When did he fall off a house?” Snotlout asked, frowning.
Ruffnut continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “So he’s always screaming, you know? I mean, natural reaction to falling off of things.”
Tuffnut snickered, watching the murderous look on Astrid’s face.
“But my point is this.” Ruff looked around at them all with narrowed eyes. “Anyone else notice when he stops screaming?”
Astrid blinked.
“What does that even mean?” Snotlout asked.
“Duh!” Tuffnut smacked his sister’s head. “When he stops falling, of course!”
“Wrong!” Ruff punched him on the arm, grinning. “You’re wrong!” she sang. “Wrong, wrong, wrong!”
“Ruff, focus!” Astrid growled. “What are you trying to say? When does he stop screaming?”
Ruffnut smiled smugly. “When he connects with Toothless.”
Astrid was silent, trying to recall the last time she had seen Hiccup falling. Was Ruffnut right?
“He’ll just come in contact with Toothless, and the screaming stops.” Ruffnut leaned forward, her face bright in the firelight, a real smile softening her features. “And they’ll still be falling,” she said. “Both of them, for several more seconds at least. But you don’t hear any more screaming, do you?”
“Oh my Thor,” Snotlout said, his mouth hanging open slightly. “I think she’s actually right.”
“That says a lot,” Mala said. “That he would no longer be afraid when he’s with Toothless, even if they are both still in danger in the moment.” She smiled too, leaning back against Stormfly. “You see? If Hiccup Haddock feels such safety with his dragon, then perhaps you can find some hope in that.”
A tiny fraction of the weight on Astrid’s shoulders lifted. She nodded, letting out a quiet breath. “At least he’s with Toothless.”
“But you know what?” Snotlout sat up now, too, scooting forward like Ruffnut, his expression clearer, his movements more lively. “He doesn’t even need Toothless! Remember when he and I got trapped by that Sandbuster at the Northern Markets?”
The others nodded.
“So it’s just me, Hiccup, and that idiot Amos all alone in that cave. It’s full of junk.” He gestured around him, waving at remembered piles of broken chests, empty barrels, and rotted debris. His eyes were alight with the memory as he recounted the events. “We’re separated from our dragons, we only have a few random weapons that got sucked down before us, and our only possible exit is this tiny hole in the ceiling, about this big.” He made a small circle with his thumb and pointer finger, showing them. “And it’s way up there.” He stretched his hand above his head, pointing at an imaginary ceiling. “And there’s a crazy dragon that could burst in at any moment. But Hiccup comes up with this plan. He tells us to stack the junk as high as we can, so that we can reach the hole in the ceiling, and in the meantime, he’s going to build a cage.”
Astrid grinned, enraptured; she had never gotten the full story from either of them.
“Amos and I somehow build this huge hulking tower of junk. It’s swaying and creaking and all kinds of unsafe, but I figure at least Hiccup’s built a cage for the dragon, so that should help, right? Well, I look over, and Hiccup’s built–” He gestured vaguely. “Practically nothing! Just some planks propped up around the tower of trash.” He ran a hand down his face, reliving the frustration. “That’s not a cage! That’s not anything! But then the Sandbuster comes crashing back into the cave. We run for the tower and start climbing it, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Hiccup jump off. He lands on one of the planks he set up. And you know what happens? It flings some piece of, I dunno, rock or metal or something, and it breaks right through one of the patches in the ceiling. So sunlight comes pouring out of it, which the Sandbuster hates, right?” Snotlout became more animated in his storytelling, his arms flinging in wild gestures on Hiccup’s level.
“It backs away from the light, but Hiccup’s already moved onto the next one. Another plank, another hole in the ceiling, another ray of sunlight. Amos and I are clinging to this swaying tower, just staring as Hiccup jumps from plank to plank without hesitation, grinning like a total idiot. And when he jumps off the last one and lands on the ground, there it is. Rays of sunlight surrounding the Sandbuster, keeping it in place.” Snotlout shook his head in disbelief. “A cage.”
“Awesome!” Tuffnut was squirming with delight, clearly imagining the chaos.
“Sounds like Hiccup,” Astrid said. “Always figuring out things, coming up with these crazy ideas.”
“Yeah, like when we all got captured by Dagur and Ryker that one time, and he snagged the muzzle off Toothless and told him to free the Skrill?” Tuffnut laughed madly. “You know, the dragon that was literally hunting him down? What made him think the Skrill wouldn’t just fry him right there?”
“Oh! Oh!” Ruffnut nudged her brother. “What about the time Toothless wouldn’t let Hiccup help him fight the Whispering Death, so he jumped off a cliff?” She cackled loudly, the sound carrying into the night. “Now that was insane!”
Astrid cracked a smile, and before she knew it, she was laughing with the rest of them, caught up in the fond reminisces of Hiccup’s lunatic schemes. They were right; he was constantly doing things that appeared stupid, acting on plans that seemed crazy and impossible. It was how he operated, tinkering with fate, engineering his own solutions. He was reckless. Clever. Unpredictable.
Wherever he was now, whatever situation he was in, Astrid was sure what he would do. She recalled their conversation on Berk years ago, standing on a cliff overlooking the pier, watching the boats carrying Stoick, Berk’s warriors, and a captive Toothless to guaranteed slaughter at the dragons’ nest.
What are you gonna do about it?
Eh, probably something stupid.
Good, but you’ve already done that.
His eyes had widened in realization, his mouth curving into a grimly determined smile. Then something crazy.
Toothless waited for Hiccup to do something. Or, at least, to wake up.
Hiccup was sprawled on the floor in front of Toothless, his cheek pressed against the healer’s notes on poisons that he had read through at least a dozen times. With every reading, he had gotten more desperate, more discouraged, more debilitated. He had had no luck identifying the exact poison that coursed through his veins, if that poison was even listed in the healer’s books. The descriptions were vague and overlapping, and the cures maddeningly inflexible. What abated the effects of one poison exacerbated the effects of another. Taking an antidote would only be a gamble–a frightening, dangerous one.
Toothless whined and shifted his position on the floor. He didn’t know how they would move forward, how they would beat this. If they could beat this. He clung to the rise and fall of Hiccup’s chest, but even that was little comfort. The sound of Hiccup’s breathing made his skin crawl, like something horrible was burrowing into his scales, nestling in his insides, scuttling around beneath his skin. Some dark, grim feeling that was making a home for itself inside him. Toothless growled quietly and shook his head but it did nothing to dislodge the disturbing feeling, the sinister idea that could not be uprooted.
Hiccup looked… worse. Not simply worse than before, but worse than ever. Worse than anything Toothless could remember.
The many times Hiccup had lingered just outside Death’s door had all been different than this. After the Red Death, he had been beaten and broken, and yet mercifully unaware. He had slept mostly, a silent body in the house, a not-quite-lifeless figure that was also not quite there, either. But finally he had come around, his features crinkling in pain and awareness, his eyes flickering open again.
The time he had nearly drowned while freeing the Submaripper, he had been still. Still and cold, like one of the carved Viking statues that stood guard on the edge of Berk’s waters. But finally he had sat up, salt water spilling from his mouth as he sucked in a stinging breath of air. He had struggled standing up, stumbled when he tried to take a step, but it was okay. He had come back. Again.
But this time, Hiccup was not still. He slept, but it wasn’t the same. There was no semblance of peace this time. No vague notion of rest or quiet. He slept in torment. In agony. With a restless awareness of his circumstances. His brows were drawn together tightly, his jaw clenched. His muscles were taught, tense. His eyelids fluttered half-open intermittently, revealing the whites of his eyes as they rolled in his sleep, perhaps tracking the movement of some terrible nightmare.
And his breathing. It wasn’t calm or quiet or barely there like the other times. It was loud, raw, rattling. It seemed to shake him the way it shook Toothless. Like each drawn breath was another casualty in a losing battle.
Toothless flattened his ear plates against his head, growling low. His claws protracted, grinding against the wood floor beneath him, carving deep grooves into it. He couldn’t take another second of Hiccup’s horrid rasping, the stiffening of his muscles as his body tensed and twitched. He couldn’t stand another moment of Hiccup’s suffering. But with equal strength, Toothless could not bear to leave him. Could not move away. Would not look away.
So he stayed. And waited, desperately, for something.
“I got it!”
Toothless roared in alarm as Hiccup shot up with a gasping cry, struggling to push himself up off the floor. Toothless moved around him with a worried warble and helped him to his feet.
“I got it,” Hiccup repeated as he gained his footing, leaning heavily against the nearest table. He huffed out a breath and looked at Toothless. He grinned. “I got it!”
Toothless watched him curiously.
“I know what to do!” Hiccup explained breathlessly. “It’s simple!” He began making his way over to the far corner of the room, propping himself up on tables, shelves, and benches along the way, Toothless at his side. “If a sword is coming at you, and you don’t have a shield, what do you use?” Hiccup increased his pace as he hastened through the room, now almost gasping. “You use–ah!”
Hiccup’s leg gave out on him, and he collapsed onto Toothless’ waiting head.
“You use…” He stopped and nodded at Toothless, who rose up until Hiccup was standing again, the Night Fury taking most of his weight. They headed more slowly towards the other side of the room. “You use another sword!” Hiccup finished.
Toothless rumbled in cautious agreement.
“Yes! So,” Hiccup continued, pleased that Toothless was following along, “we use that principle here.” He stopped in the corner of the room, and moved to lean against the wall beside a rickety shelf stacked with books and bowls and half-empty bottles. “We don’t have an antidote. But we do have…” Hiccup latched onto the shelf and leaned heavily into it. Toothless rumbled an uneasy warning as it rocked precariously beneath his weight. Hiccup ignored this and pulled a dusty wooden box towards himself, discarding the lid carelessly and revealing a collection of small colored vials. He grinned triumphantly at Toothless. “Poison.”
Toothless roared. It was a high-pitched, very stressed roar that clearly said, Are you out of your mind?
Hiccup ignored this too and dropped the box onto the floor. He collapsed beside it and began hurriedly sorting through the bottles. Toothless roared indignantly.
“Don’t worry, bud,” Hiccup checked the labels with clear urgency, his fingers moving quickly between each one. “I won’t take the same poison, obviously. It has to be one that kills you the opposite way. It might counteract the symptoms, and they’ll just–” he waved his free hand, gesturing nonsensically–“cancel each other out!” He looked up at Toothless with a hopeful grin, then went back to perusing the bottles. He pulled a small green one out of the box. “This should do,” he said, bringing it towards himself.
Toothless used his head to lower Hiccup’s hand and the bottle slowly but firmly to the floor. He looked into Hiccup’s eyes with a distressed sound.
“Don’t worry, bud,” Hiccup said again, still smiling lightly at his dragon. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was tension there. Strain. He didn’t look happy or relieved. He looked desperate. “I know what I’m doing,” he said. “I read about all these poisons in the healer’s books.” He nodded encouragingly at Toothless. “This will work.”
But Toothless moved his head forward to push Hiccup back until he was sitting up against the wall. He studied his rider seriously, without moving, without blinking. Finally, Hiccup’s smile faltered.
“Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you, bud. I don’t actually know if it’ll work.” He sighed, and his eyes drooped closed. His head fell back against the wall with a dull thunk. Now that he had stopped, it was like the manic momentum that had been propelling him forward had vanished. His breathing was labored, his skin flushed unhealthily. A sheen of sweat covered him, and the bags beneath his eyes made it look like he had been punched in the face. When he dragged his eyes open again, it was obvious that it took effort. Every single moment, Toothless realized, took effort.
The fingers of Hiccup’s free hand twitched, and Toothless moved his head beneath them. Hiccup stroked his dragon for a few long moments, his heavy breathing the only sound amongst the silence.
“I’m dying, Toothless,” he whispered.
Toothless let out a quiet wail and leaned into his human until Hiccup was half on top of him.
“If I try this,” Hiccup said, moving the bottle with a twitch of his other hand, “there’s a chance I might survive. I don’t know if it’ll work. I don’t–” His breathing hitched. “It’s only a hunch, to be honest. But if I don’t try it, I’ll die for sure, and that’ll be like giving up.” He was starting to slur now, his words running together–even his natural pattern of speech was failing him. “I don’t…” Hiccup clenched the bottle in his hand. “I don’t wanna give up.”
Silently, Toothless swept his tail around and curled into a ball with his upper half on Hiccup’s lap. He warbled softly. He understood. He didn’t want Hiccup to give up either. But of course he wouldn’t. Hiccup had fought hard through all of this, was fighting hard now for his next breath, and would continue to fight until he couldn’t anymore. And Toothless– Toothless would stay with him until he couldn’t anymore.
The vial of poison left Toothless’ line of sight as Hiccup picked it up. Toothless heard him swallow. There was a quiet clink as Hiccup set the bottle down somewhere.
“Love you, bud,” Hiccup murmured, running his hand slowly over Toothless’ scales. “Glad you’re with me,” he said. Then he laid down on top of Toothless, and was still.
Chapter 10: Perfect Timing
Chapter Text
Meatlug was sleeping. Fishlegs envied her.
He watched the mellow rise and fall of his dragon’s body for a few more moments, then sighed and rolled over in bed. Had he managed even a wink of sleep during the night? He doubted it. Scrubbing at his face, he turned over again so that he was lying on his back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of his hut on Dragon’s Edge. He could make out the very top of the ceiling now, no longer obscured in the shadows of night. Daylight was creeping in.
Giving up on sleep, Fishlegs sat up. From the cracks in his doorway, pale light filtered through, spilling across the hardwood floor in slender lines that snaked towards the foot of his bed. It was early. Too early.
Fishlegs glanced at Meatlug again. She was still sleeping peacefully, like he should have been. Like he wished he could. One of Meatlug’s ears twitched. Footsteps thunked from the other side of the door.
Fishlegs’ heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled out of bed, nearly falling over as the twisted tangle of blankets latched onto him. He clawed them off of himself just as someone knocked against the side of his hut.
“What happened?” Fishlegs hurried across the room and wrenched his door open with so much vigor that it banged against the wall. He scanned Throk’s neutral features as he stood politely in the doorway. “Is Hiccup back?” Fishlegs asked, craning his head out and scanning the deserted walkway to either side of them. He swallowed. “Is it an emergency? Are we under attack?”
Throk shook his head, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “No,” he said. “It is neither of those things.”
“Oh.” Fishlegs leaned back from the doorway, letting his posture deflate to its usual rounded slouch. Throk had urged him to get some well-needed rest, had said that he would wake him up only in case of an emergency, or if they received word about Hiccup. Fishlegs frowned. “Uh, what– what’s going on, then?”
Throk gestured in the direction of the Clubhouse. “You have a visitor,” he said, “from Berk.”
“Oh,” Fishlegs said again. “Right. Thanks.” He exchanged parting nods with Throk, then edged his way around him and onto the rope bridge to the Clubhouse. It jostled as he hurried along, creaking and swaying in the chilly morning air.
Fishlegs brushed his hands down his tunic, frowning at the wrinkles. Had Stoick come for updates on Hiccup’s whereabouts? And if so, what would he tell him? That his son was still missing? That the last people to spot him had been the Dragon Hunters? That even they seemed not to know where Hiccup had disappeared to? That the days were waxing long, and the riders were frazzled, and Fishlegs had gone too long without sleep?
He reached the Clubhouse before he was ready. He stood beside the doorway, hesitating for a moment, dread gnawing at his insides. Then he sighed silently, straightened his posture, and stepped inside.
Gobber was standing by the fireplace in the center of the room, watching the flames.
Fishlegs blinked. “Gobber?”
Gobber turned, a small smile softening his features as he laid eyes on Fishlegs. “Hello, laddie.”
“What are you doing here?” Fishlegs asked, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides.
“Ah, Stoick sent me,” Gobber said. “To see if there were any updates on Hiccup.” His light eyes swept Fishlegs’ form in quick calculation. “But I can see I’ll have no good news to report. You look terrible.” He gestured to the nearest seat.
“I know.” Fishlegs slumped into the offered chair and watched as Gobber settled into the seat beside him. “I haven’t been sleeping well. We’ve gotten nowhere searching for Hiccup–in fact, we’ve been set back.”
“Set back?” Gobber asked, folding his arms. “How did you manage that?”
“Krogan,” Fishlegs said darkly. He told Gobber about Krogan’s ransom and the events that followed, as they had been relayed to him via Terror mail from Astrid. “We lost so much time because of him.” Fishlegs held his head in his hands, elbows propped on the rough wood of the table around the fire. Hiccup had sat in this chair, days ago. “It’s been so long,” he said. “He’s never been gone this long.”
Gobber sighed, leaning back in his chair with a prolonged wooden creak that grated against the early morning calm. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins are all out looking, and they won’t stop until they find him. Sooner or later,” Gobber said, reaching over and patting Fishlegs’ shoulder, “he’ll turn up.”
Fishlegs let his hands drop from his face. “Are you sure?”
There was a fraction of a second in which Gobber said nothing, and Fishlegs’ stomach contracted, an imaginary Razorwhip tail crushing him.
Gobber smiled bracingly. “Of course,” he said. He stood and turned away, gazing at the view from the Clubhouse doorway. The feeble pre-dawn light washed his face in gray. “And in the meantime, you’ll need to get some sleep. You’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re so exhausted you can’t even see straight.”
“I know.” Fishlegs stood, too, then passed Gobber and sat down at the edge of the walkway in front of the Clubhouse, his legs hanging over the side. “That’s easier said than done, though.” He scanned the furthest reaches of the Edge as Gobber sat down beside him, eyes raking over the crests of the green hills, the snow-topped mountain peaks, the jagged cap of the volcano. He studied the deserted skies, the empty shore, the flat horizon line where the dark waters met the icy gray sky. It was all too still, too barren, too vacant. He never liked to be alone on the Edge. It wasn’t built for solitude.
“You know,” Gobber said, “Hiccup was my apprentice from a wee little lad.”
Fishlegs tore his gaze away from the horizon to contemplate Gobber.
“I got used to having him around,” he said. “There at my side every time I was working.” He gestured to the space beside him, at a young, invisible Hiccup. “Asking questions constantly. ‘What’s this? What does that do? Why do you make it that way?’” He chuckled, a fond smile crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes. “Ever the curious little Viking. I was always explaining things to him. Then I set up that little room for him, above the forge. You know the one.”
Fishlegs nodded. “He was in there more than his own house.”
“Aye, he was. He made that place his own private sanctuary, filled it with sketches and plans and parts and all manner of wild inventions. Most of the time, he was either there in that room, or at my side, studying, learning. But sometimes, he would be gone.”
“Gone where?”
Gobber shrugged. “Thor only knows. He just liked to leave–to run off somewhere, investigate some new place, search for something unknown, unfamiliar.”
Fishlegs’ lips twitched. “He’s still like that.”
“I know it.” Gobber nodded, grinning. “And Stoick–” He laughed. “Stoick used to worry about him, running off, getting into trouble. But I would always tell him, ‘You can’t stop him, Stoick. You can only prepare him.’ Because, sure enough, Hiccup would always vanish again.”
“What about you?” Fishlegs asked. “You weren’t worried?”
“Ah, Hiccup was skinny and weak–fragile as a fishbone. And not the most coordinated Viking, either. Always stumbling into things, falling over. Very accident-prone. But,” Gobber said, holding his hook up for emphasis, “he was sharp. As clever as they come. I figured he had a bit more in him than we gave him credit for.”
Fishlegs let out a huff of laughter. “I bet you didn’t realize how right you were.”
Gobber smiled. “Aye,” he said. “We underestimated all of you. When you lot came flying to the dragon’s nest, on dragons–” He chortled, shaking his head. “What a thing to witness.” The smile faded from Gobber’s features. He cleared his throat. “But then came Hiccup’s battle with the Red Death, and everything afterwards.”
Fishlegs nodded, remembering standing over Hiccup’s bed with the other riders in hushed silence. The eerie stillness of Hiccup’s prone form. Toothless, pacing the floor, claws clicking against the wood. The stoop in Stoick’s shoulders. The stinging smell of Gothi’s concoctions. The dip in the blankets where Hiccup’s leg used to be.
Gobber sighed, long and low. “When Hiccup came back around, it was to a new Berk. He had new responsibilities, new things to do with his time. I went from having him at my side most hours of the day, every day, to seeing him in passing, maybe once every few days.”
Fishlegs frowned; he had never considered how Hiccup’s change in lifestyle had impacted Gobber. “You must have missed him.”
Gobber tipped his head in acknowledgement. “It took some adjusting.” He glanced sidelong at Fishlegs. “I did keep his room the same,” he said. “Just as it was. Even now, it’s untouched except when he visits. There are still sketches of Toothless in there. Rudimentary blueprints of the tail fin, tacked up on the wall beside early inventions of dragon-fighting weapons.” Gobber smiled slightly. “But that’s how it is with Hiccup–how it’s always been. You get used to his presence,” he said, “and you get as comfortable as you can with his absence.”
Fishlegs rubbed his forehead. “Are you saying,” he asked, studying Gobber’s casual slouch, “that you’re comfortable right now? With Hiccup gone?”
Gobber gave him a forced smile, his lips pressed into a thin line. “As comfortable as you can,” he repeated. Then he stood with a grunt, and offered his hand to Fishlegs. “You should get some rest, then,” he said, as Fishlegs took his hand and rose to his feet. “And try not to worry too much. Hiccup always comes back.”
“Always?”
Gobber patted Fishlegs’ shoulder. “So far.”
Hiccup was aware of movement. A gentle rise and fall. Steady, present, reassuring.
He moved his fingertips, and they trailed along familiar territory. Toothless’ scales. He was lying on top of Toothless, rising and falling in time to his dragon’s breaths.
Hiccup opened his eyes. His upper half was slumped over Toothless’ head. They were lying on a dusty wooden floor, glazed over with warm sunlight that poured in from the open doorway. A box of vials sat in front of him, one slot empty. The poison.
He laid still for another moment, processing the situation as gravity seemed to abandon him. He was floating, feather-light, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as if he and Toothless were spiraling through the skies. Had the poison actually worked?
Hardly daring to believe his luck, Hiccup lifted his head a fraction of an inch. “Toothless?” His voice was hoarse from lack of use, but in the quiet of the healer’s hut it may as well have been the roar of a Thunderdrum.
Toothless scrambled to his feet so fast that Hiccup nearly dropped face-first onto the floor, but he caught himself with his arms outstretched. That was a good sign. He grinned at Toothless, who warbled happily and wriggled with uncontainable excitement. He bounded away and crashed around the hut, knocking into tables, chairs, and shelves with ecstatic energy.
Hiccup laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, bud,” he said. He sat up, leaning back against the wall and watching his dragon destroy the healer’s remaining possessions as he took a mental tally of his wellbeing. The fever that had clung to him for the past few days had finally receded, along with the rest of the poison’s symptoms. His heartbeat was blessedly normal, his mind clearer than it had been in days. He stretched his fingers out in front of him. The discoloration of the skin around the nail beds had faded, close to disappearing entirely.
Toothless knocked over a shelf with a particularly loud crash, then came to stand in front of Hiccup again. He padded in place, unable to keep still.
“I feel the same way,” Hiccup said, relishing the euphoria and the weightlessness that accompanied it. “Thank the gods it actually worked.” Still laughing breathlessly, Hiccup moved onto his hands and knees and began to push himself up. He winced as pain lanced through his side.
Toothless abandoned his happy dancing immediately, shoving his head into his rider’s space with a concerned warble.
“It’s okay, Toothless.” Hiccup patted his dragon’s head, smiling reassuringly. “I’m just stiff from being in that position for so long.” He braced himself for the wave of pain as he stood. When he was on his feet and steady, it faded to a dull, inconspicuous ache. He took a step forward, away from the wall, testing his balance. “See?” he said, his grin widening further. “All good!”
Toothless bounded to the door of the healer’s hut and fired a triumphant plasma blast into the sky, then came back to Hiccup’s side, pressing against his rider affectionately.
Hiccup sighed in relief, running his hands over Toothless’ scales. “Thank you for staying with me, bud,” he said, voice steeped in gratitude. He lifted Toothless’ head until they were eye to eye. “You’re amazing.”
Toothless rumbled a response, and the sound was immediately followed by another low growl, from his stomach.
“And also hungry, apparently.” Hiccup chuckled and headed for the door, Toothless at his side. “C’mon, bud. You deserve a feast.”
Together, they trailed to the doorway, Hiccup’s hand resting on his dragon’s scales. The swish of Toothless’ tail against the floorboards mingled with Hiccup’s footsteps, the only sounds on the island beside the rustle of the wind and the rushing of the distant sea. The two of them passed through the center of the village without sparing a glance at the well, heading for the shore. The sun glowed warm and welcoming overhead.
Hiccup closed his eyes, trusting Toothless to lead him, taking time to appreciate the moment. Freed from the poison coursing through his veins and the heavy weight of almost certain death, Hiccup felt lighter. The world felt lighter. Calmer. Safer. Toothless’ scales were warm beneath his fingertips, and the island breeze was playing with his hair now. With his eyes closed, he could imagine it was Astrid, raking her fingers through his hair with a ridiculously pleased expression.
It wouldn’t be long until he could see her again, until he could see all of them. He and Toothless would take the afternoon to rest up and restore their strength, and then they would get to work on a way out.
“We’re close, Toothless,” he murmured. “We’re so, so close.”
“Hey, I said quit it!” Snotlout reached up to swat at the Terrible Terror that had started to chew on the horns of his helmet again.
The Terror squawked playfully and landed on his shoulder. It bit his ear.
“Gah! Would you–!” Snotlout waved the Terror off his shoulder and sighed as it resumed its position on his helmet. “Why did I have to get the one that was teething?” The little dragon’s teeth scraped against the horns of his helmet. Saliva dripped onto his shoulder.
“Ah, gods.” Snotlout rolled his eyes. “I sure hope I’m the one to find Hiccup,” he said, “otherwise I won’t be sending any Terror mail and you’ll have been a complete waste of my time.” He pointed up at the Terror, who ignored him.
Hookfang roared quietly and dipped beneath the cloud bank.
“What is it, Hooky?” Snotlout asked. They emerged through mist into blue skies, the ocean churning below them. A land mass rose up out of the waters ahead, and Snotlout patted Hookfang’s head appreciatively. “Wow! A new island! You better take notes,” he told the Terror as they flew toward land. “That’s how to be a useful dragon.”
Hookfang rumbled a smug acknowledgement, dipping his wings to circle above the island.
“You think Hiccup found this place?” Snotlout leaned forward in the saddle, craning his neck to see the topography below Hookfang’s vast wingspan. The northern side of the island was jagged with mountain peaks, sharper and more inhospitable than the wider summits on Dragon’s Edge. The rest of the island was mostly composed of forest, the trees dipping into every valley, hugging the crests of each hill.
Hookfang angled his wings and they descended lower over the ground, just above the forest canopy.
“Look.” Snotlout pointed to a section of ashen land, cleared of all live growth. It was dotted with skeleton trees, blackened by ash, twisted and misshapen by fire. “We didn’t see any smoke, though.” Snotlout swallowed convulsively, his mouth dry. “Maybe the fire was older. Hiccup didn’t necessarily get caught in it.”
But Hookfang adjusted his course anyway. They streaked beneath the burned trees, Hookfang gliding swiftly between branches while Snotlout scanned the surrounding landscape. No Hiccup. No Toothless. No signs of life.
“Maybe they never even came here,” Snotlout said as they swooped up the side of a hill. “Maybe they– whoa.”
They landed on the crest of the hill. Snotlout stared open-mouthed at the ruins of the village before them, its buildings warped and blackened by fire, too. Goosebumps crawled up his forearms. “This looks bad,” he whispered. “Really bad.”
Hookfang rumbled a low agreement. Even the Terrible Terror had stopped gnawing Snotlout’s helmet. It gave a nervous squeak and fluttered down into Snotlout’s lap.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Snotlout wrapped his hands around the Terror automatically, letting it bury itself in the folds of his clothes. “Normally, I’d say we should get outta here. But–” he sighed heavily–“you know if Hiccup landed here, he would definitely go investigate this. So I guess that’s what we have to do.”
Hookfang huffed a breath of warm air that stirred the mixture of ash and dirt on the ground, then started forward. He crept through the ruins with caution, edging away from the buildings and keeping to the path.
“I don’t know,” Snotlout whispered. “This place looks pretty deserted.” He tore his gaze from a cracked workbench that had finally fallen to pieces atop the rest of the surrounding debris. Leaning forward on Hookfang, he squinted down the path ahead. The row of houses ended at a towering wall, its massive gate hanging open at an angle.
“Set me down up there,” Snotlout said. Hookfang scurried to the gate, eager to leave the eerie rubble behind them. Snotlout slid the Terror out of his arms and sat it between Hookfang’s horns as he dropped out of the saddle. “Stay here.”
Snotlout advanced on the gate, glancing briefly at the remainder of the village beyond. Right now, he was interested in the padlock. Someone had opened this gate. And he had a feeling he knew who it was. He hovered his hand over the ashen wood, making his way to the lock. He stopped at the smoldered impact where the lock should have been. He could almost hear the high-pitched whistle as Toothless prepared a shot. The blinding flash of purple-white light. Good job, bud, Hiccup had probably said.
For the first time in what felt like quite a while, a genuine smile spread across Snotlout’s face. “Gotcha.” He turned and waved Hookfang forward as he strode through the gate and into the more intact part of the village. It was empty here, too, but Snotlout hastened ahead, his heart thrumming, a powerful certainty compelling him.
He stopped in the middle of the village square and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hiccup?” he yelled. Two ravens screeched their protest, the pines at the cusp of the forest twitching as they flew away, unseen.
Snotlout waited, listening, holding a hand above his eyes to shade the fiery afternoon light. He glanced around at what looked like the village’s central square, a sturdy well in the center, houses on each corner. The house on his left had collapsed in on itself, heavy beams sticking out of the doorway. The house on his right stood in one piece, although its edges were smudged with smoke.
“Hiccup?” he called again. He listened for a moment longer, then tramped into the house on the right.
Snotlout stopped inside the doorway, frowning. His shadow draped across wreckage. Shelves, tables, and chairs had been knocked over, as if someone had ransacked the place. What had happened here?
He shifted, and the sunlight jumped, catching on something on the floor nearby. He stepped over the remnants of a wooden stool and crouched beside it. Broken glass. Something had fallen off of one of the shelves, breaking into menacing shards. Snotlout leaned closer. Liquid darkened the wood floor around the glass. This had happened recently.
“He can’t be far.” Snotlout rushed backwards, intending to run out the door, but he stumbled over the wooden legs of the stool and fell.
Hookfang stuck his head in the door, eyeing Snotlout’s position on the floor. He chortled, warm air blowing into Snotlout’s face and rifling his hair.
“Shut up, Hookfang.” Snotlout planted his hands on the floor to either side of him, preparing to get back to his feet, but he stopped. His left hand came into contact with something smooth. Not wood, but parchment.
He pulled the parchment out of the collection of items that littered the floor beside an overturned desk. His stomach jolted and he grinned, running his hand over the familiar markings. They were blueprints for Toothless’ tail fin, sketched out in Hiccup’s steady hand, notes scrawled into the corners of the page.
Snotlout met eyes with his dragon, letting out a huff of breathless laughter. “We’re close, Hookfang.” His fingers tightened on the edge of Hiccup’s design. “We’re so, so close.”
Chapter 11: The Scenic Route
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
From out of the campfire on the sandy shore, one piece of wood in particular held Hiccup’s attention. The one log of firewood that he had had the strength to collect. That one simple task had cost him a surprising–and frankly, embarrassing–amount of energy. After that, Toothless had taken over, nudging Hiccup to the ground with a gentle but non-negotiable gesture.
But in all fairness, the poison had been far from a cure-all. Though it had pulled him from the brink of death, it hadn’t restored his health entirely. He had still spent days wracked with poison and pain, had still crashed to the earth in a graveyard of burnt trees. Gods, he had even awoken from the crash to ravens hoping to feed on his corpse. He blinked at the log in the fire, trying to feel grateful that he had had the strength for that. Baby steps, he supposed.
He glanced at Toothless, who, for his part, was perfectly content with Hiccup’s progress. The dragon lay within arm’s length of Hiccup, purring beneath the warm afternoon sun, his eyes closed and his mouth open, tongue hanging out.
Hiccup smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
Toothless lifted his head, ears perked. He turned his gaze back toward the interior of the island, eyes narrowed.
“What is it, bud?” Hiccup asked. “Did you hear something?”
Toothless stood up, ear plates twitching in different directions as he listened with intense concentration.
Hiccup struggled to his feet and placed a hand on his dragon’s back for support. He stood still and listened along, following Toothless’ gaze. The waves breaking on the shore hushed them. The wind in the trees, too, whispered shhhh. The fire crackled softly at the edges of his perception. But there was no other sound, not that he could hear.
And yet Toothless had heard the sound again. He roared quietly at Hiccup, nodding toward the village and moving his body so that the saddle pressed against Hiccup’s uninjured side.
“I hear you, bud.” Hiccup slid into the saddle and leaned forward, pressing low to Toothless’ back as they left the beach, wending their way through the forest outskirts and back to town. Toothless skidded to a halt around the corner of the healer’s hut, and Hiccup shifted out of the saddle in silence. He edged forward and peered around the corner.
His heart skipped a beat and he clutched at the wooden wall of the healer’s hut, sagging. There, right in front of him, was Snotlout, Hookfang dozing a short distance away. Hiccup laughed breathlessly and opened his mouth to shout out, but the words caught in his throat as something dawned on him.
Snotlout was standing in front of the well.
Hiccup stumbled forward a few steps, unnoticed.
Snotlout’s arms were moving methodically, in time to a quiet squeak. He was pulling on the rope, raising a bucketful of poisoned water to the surface.
Before Hiccup knew what he was doing, he was running. “No!” he screamed. He slammed into Snotlout from the side, and the two of them struck the ashen earth and rolled.
Snotlout grabbed at him, grunting. Hiccup tried to wrestle away, but even on his best day it would have been difficult. His cousin had him in a chokehold within seconds.
Hiccup scrabbled at Snotlout’s fingers, trying to pry them from his throat. He snatched a breath. “Snotlout!”
Snotlout released him instantly, wrenching his hands away as if burnt. He scrambled away and got to his feet, panting. “Hiccup?” he asked, mouth hanging open.
Hiccup raised himself up on his elbows. “Did you drink the water?”
“What? No.” He shook his head dazedly, watching Hiccup in stunned stillness.
Hiccup let his eyes droop closed as relief washed over him like a tidal wave. “Okay, good.” He opened his eyes and grinned. “Hey, then,” he said, as Toothless padded over and growled at Snotlout.
“Gimme a break, Toothless!” Snotlout frowned at the Night Fury. “I didn’t know it was him, okay? When someone tackles you out of nowhere, you fight back.” He rounded on Hiccup. “And you!” He stabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “’Hey?’” he echoed.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, I haven’t seen you in a long time, so…” Hiccup trailed off, watching Snotlout uncertainly. His cousin was opening and closing his mouth like words had failed him. “Uh, Snotlout?”
“Where in Thor’s name have you been?” Snotlout exploded, his voice echoing off the buildings in the village square.
Hiccup gaped at him, speechless.
“We’ve been looking for you for ages! We’ve scoured every little crack and crevice on every stupid island from here to Berk!” Snotlout continued to rage on, gesticulating wildly, his face getting steadily more flushed as Hiccup stared. “We flew for hours and hours over the ocean, wondering if you’d drowned! Couldn’t have sent a simple note, could you? Like this: ‘Hey, guys, how’s it going? I’m alive, in case you were wondering!’”
Hiccup opened his mouth to say something about the island’s lack of Terrible Terrors, but Snotlout had already rushed on to his next complaint.
“And then we wasted so much time because Krogan tried to convince us that he had you!”
“What are you–?”
“Setting boxes on fire! Tying up stupid useless Dragon Hunters!”
Hiccup was thoroughly lost now, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“What an idiotic waste of time!” Snotlout clenched his fists at his sides and started to pace. “And then we split up!” he shouted, continuing his aggressively fragmented narrative of their search. “Flying for hours in separate directions! Mala was no help! Hookfang is exhausted! We flew for hours!” he repeated emphatically, coming to a stop in front of Hiccup. “Lots of hours! A stupid amount of hours!” Snotlout’s voice broke. He pressed his lips together in abrupt silence, his eyes glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. He was determinedly not looking at Hiccup.
Hiccup watched him mutely, taking in his widened eyes, the hunch of his shoulders, the strain carved into his hardened face. Snotlout’s hands hung loosely at his sides, unclenched. They were trembling. Hiccup blinked at him, then slowly began to smile. He recognized this all too well. Snotlout’s over-the-top anger was his go-to mask. His automatic coverup for insecurities, for perceived weaknesses. Things like fear, and worry. Hiccup relaxed into an easy slouch, regarding Snotlout with a sudden rush of fondness.
“I hate stupid search parties,” Snotlout said, kicking halfheartedly at the ground.
“Snotlout.”
“Why are they called parties, anyway?”
“Snotlout.”
Snotlout finally looked up and met Hiccup’s eyes. They watched each other for a long moment.
Hiccup smiled encouragingly. “I’m okay,” he said.
Snotlout considered this, his eyes flicking up and down Hiccup’s form for the first time. He frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “You look terrible,” he said.
Hiccup sighed. “Granted. But I’m alive, and that’s something, isn’t it?”
Snotlout let out a long breath and sank to the ground opposite Hiccup. “Yeah,” he said quietly, nodding. “You’re alive.” It was clearly more of a reassurance to himself than a response to Hiccup.
Hiccup bit back another smile, touched. They sank into several moments of companionable silence.
“What did you tackle me for, anyway?” Snotlout asked finally, standing up and frowning into the dark depths of the well. “I’m thirsty.”
“You don’t want that water,” Hiccup told him patiently. “It’s poisoned.”
“Poisoned!” Snotlout jumped back from the well, wiping his hands on his pants. “How do you know?”
“Because,” Hiccup said, grinning wryly, “I drank it.”
“You know, there are only so many islands.” Ruff shrugged as she and her brother walked through the sunlit forest, trampling the undergrowth. Barf and Belch crashed along behind them. “Eventually,” she said, “one of us is bound to find him.”
“Yeah, you would think so, wouldn’t you?” Tuffnut folded his arms and glared at the nearby bushes.
Something rustled on Ruffnut’s side.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Eh, probably another wild boar.”
“That’s true. We should probably stop checking rustling noises. Hiccup doesn’t rustle.”
“Noted.”
They continued their meandering path through the forest, scanning the scenery. The trees were widely spaced, allowing sunlight to spill through the canopy. Grass, bushes, and wildflowers grew in resplendence across the ground, hugging the tree trunks and stretching toward the sky, except in the places where they were worn down by the habitual paths of wild animals. Birds sang from somewhere high above, while the lower atmosphere hummed with insects.
Ruff slapped one that landed on the bare skin of her arm. “Ugh. Can’t we search somewhere other than a forest? I’m starting to get sick of them. I want a change in scenery.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Tuff admitted. “Maybe we’ll find Hiccup on a beach, or at a glacier, or–”
“In some caves?” Ruff asked, pointing. To their right, a mountain face was visible between the trees. A small crevice cut through the rock in a dark streak.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Tuff exchanged a mischievous grin with his sister, then the two of them snatched up dried branches, hurried out of the woods, and ascended the rocky slope.
“See?” Ruff said as they reached the cave entrance. “Small but accessible. Safe. Secure.” She ticked the qualities off on her fingers. “I bet we’ll find Hiccup and Toothless in here.” She held her branch out in front of Barf and Belch.
Tuff did the same. “Gods, I hope so.”
Barf breathed a small cloud of gas, Belch ignited it, and the twins pulled their makeshift torches away. Then they strode through the opening, the jumping flames bathing the cave walls in shifting orange light.
An echoing gurgle stopped them only a short distance away. Barf and Belch were trying to squeeze into the cave after them. Barf’s head reached down the tunnel while Belch’s neck craned awkwardly back to the opening, his head out of sight.
Ruff grimaced. “Not you two.” She shooed them back. “Wait for us outside.”
Their dragon retreated reluctantly, a misshapen silhouette against the fading afternoon light.
“C’mon,” Tuff urged from deeper within the cave. “Let’s search this place before nightfall. You know I’m not overly fond of the dark.”
“Oh, you mean scared?” Ruff taunted, jogging to catch up to her brother. They reached a fork in the tunnel, and went left in unspoken agreement.
Tuff scoffed. “You’re scared.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “If anyone around here is scared, pal, it’s you.” She jabbed her brother with a finger.
Tuffnut growled. The two of them stopped walking and banged their heads together in an antagonistic stare-down. The metallic sound reverberated through the caves, and then changed. The echo that reached their ears was not a metallic crunch, but an eerie draconic trill.
They turned as one in the direction of the sound.
“That wasn’t Toothless,” Ruff whispered.
The twins edged forward, following the winding paths of the surprisingly vast cave system. When tunnels branched off in new directions, they stood in silence, waiting for another stray sound. A huff of breath. The scrape of something sharp against stone. A low growl that carried through the cavern, amplified in the narrow passage.
They followed the sounds until the tunnel opened onto a spacious room, stalagmites reaching up from the floor and stalactites skewering down from the ceiling, almost meeting in the middle like monstrous open jaws. The draconic sounds they had been following echoed loudly through the room, filling the cool musty air, intermingling with drops of water that plinked quietly from the tips of the stalactites.
Their combined firelight permeated only a small portion of the heavy darkness. It danced in the cracks of the surrounding rock, and wrapped around pale green scales that gave way to menacing red barbs. This was the source of the inhuman sounds. A pack of sleeping Speed Stingers. Some lay curled on the floor, while others hung from stalactites, their stingers wrapped around the rock in an unyielding hold. One of the nearest dragons shifted in its sleep, its large gray talons scraping against the cave wall with a rasping hiss.
“Uh, how long do we have before dark again?” Tuffnut asked in a whisper.
Ruff swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “Now I’m scared.”
“I can’t believe you poisoned yourself, again.”
Hiccup shrugged, continuing to pour Monstrous Nightmare gel into the cracks between the stones that made up the well. The viscous green liquid seeped into each fissure, pooling down to the ground. “I mean, it worked, so…”
Snotlout scoffed, lathering the gel on his side of the well, too. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t absolutely insane,” he said. “You know, the twins are gonna worship you for that.”
Hiccup walked away from the well, frowning. “Ah, yeah, let’s not tell the twins about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to give them any ideas.”
Snotlout hummed in vague agreement and came to stand beside Hiccup. “Ready?”
Hiccup nodded. “Toothless?”
“Hookfang,” Snotlout called.
“Now,” they said together.
Their dragons fired on the well simultaneously, igniting the Monstrous Nightmare gel in a whoosh of flame. The stonework separated and collapsed in on itself, dropping into the depths of the well. The wooden roof collapsed on top of the hole, now charred like much of the rest of the village, sealing off access to the water below. Toothless and Hookfang dropped more rocks over the top from the pile Snotlout had collected, effectively turning the village well into nothing more than a simple cairn.
Hiccup sighed, leaning back against Toothless and contemplating the pile of unassuming stones. The well’s collapse brought a sense of closure to their time on the island. The village’s horrors were buried in the past now, unable to be dredged up again. It was time for healing, for a new day.
Or at least, it would be. Hiccup glanced at the sun, sinking behind the tree line as sunset colors smudged their way into the skyline. Night was stealing closer, dusk at the ready. Hiccup turned back to the cairn, nodding appreciatively. “At least we got that taken care of.”
Snotlout nodded. “And now it’s your turn.” He flipped open Toothless’ saddlebag and began rummaging through the contents. “Anything useful left in here?” He pulled Hiccup’s bag of medical supplies out and set them on top of Toothless’ saddle, poking at the remnants of bandages and unscrewing the canister of salve. “And speaking of useful,” he said, “why didn’t you pack a spare tail?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “You’re getting sloppy, Hiccup.”
“Actually,” Hiccup said, “I did pack a spare.” He gestured at Toothless’ newest tail fin, its fabric hanging uselessly from the metal. “The one we wrecked when we crashed here was our spare.”
Snotlout looked up, slowly lowering the metal container in his hand to the saddle. He blinked. “Then what happened to the original?”
The twins rushed through the tunnel, the flames from their torches leaping and popping wildly as they ran. The shifting light played tricks on their eyes, creating passageways where there were none, silhouettes with no one there, flashes of movement across solid rock.
“I thought you said you remembered the way back,” Ruff whispered urgently, as they came to another fork in the tunnel and skidded to an uncertain stop.
“It looks different going backwards, okay?” Tuff stared at the path behind them with wide eyes, gesturing frantically his sister. “You lead the way if you want. Just hurry!”
“Don’t shout unless you want them to find us faster.” Ruffnut’s harsh whisper echoed in the tunnel, grating against the rock walls in a serpentine hiss. She chose a path at random and barreled down it, Tuffnut on her heels. The firelight illuminated mere steps ahead of them, slowly filling in the nearest reaches of the darkness. “No!” She halted mid-stride, and Tuff knocked into her from behind.
“What?” he asked, whisking his torch away from her hair and directing it to the path ahead. But there was no path. A wall loomed before them, hard and unforgiving. Tuffnut cursed, running his hand along the wall, searching for an opening, a way through. “It’s no use,” he said, a tremor in his tone as he stepped back from the dead end. “We have to go back.”
Ruff nodded, her jaw set, her skin pale even in the firelight. “Go!”
They turned and sprinted back the way they had come, the rough cave walls repeating their panting breaths, the slap of their footsteps, the roaring of their torches. And then another sound broke through–a low, guttural growl that raised the hair on the back of Tuffnut’s neck.
They stilled in the middle of the passage. Ruffnut pressed a hand against her mouth.
The seconds dragged on in their own individual eternities as Tuffnut listened to the blood pounding through his veins, his sister’s hitching breaths, the too-loud crackling of their only sources of light. Beyond the fire’s reach, the caves were black, the dank air saturated with sounds of life. Quick, forceful breaths carried down the tunnel.
Tuffnut steeled himself and stepped forward soundlessly.
Ruff grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely audible, little more than an exhale. The loudest sound she dared to make.
“Maybe they’re still asleep.” Tuffnut matched her volume and took another step forward, his sister still clinging to his arm in a bruising grip.
Ruff stepped forward too, just as slow, and just as silent. “And if they’re not?”
“Then they’ll find us here, where there’s no escape. If we try the other tunnel, we might have a chance.”
Ruff stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching, and then she nodded. They began to walk forward, quicker now, but no less quietly. Ruff kept her hand on Tuffnut’s arm, and for once he didn’t mind. He was glad of it, even. He concentrated on her presence as they moved through the cave system and around to the other passage.
They turned the corner, and stopped. There was light ahead–pale light filtering through a jagged opening in the distance.
Tuffnut closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, shaking with relief. Ruff’s grip tightened around his arm for a moment, a celebratory gesture. They strode for the exit, increasing their pace as they neared escape, stealing silently through the rocky hall. The trill of a Speed Stinger drifted after them. But whether it was sleeping or awake, distant or near, it didn’t matter; they were close now. Mere steps from a way out, from a fighting chance.
Tuffnut kicked something as he stepped forward. It rolled away and clinked against stone. The note rang through the caves, sharp and clear.
The twins waited in their tracks, meeting eyes as they listened.
A raspy, high-pitched roar echoed from the depths, followed by a series of draconic chirps.
“Run,” Ruffnut whispered.
Tuffnut stooped to pick up the item he had kicked, then they sprinted the remaining distance to the exit.
They spilled out onto a wide rocky ledge, the wind rushing up to push against them with considerable force. It swirled around them in eddies, sending dead leaves, small twigs, and other detritus skittering in circles around the ledge. The light outside was gray now. They turned to the ocean in time to see the last rays of sunlight vanish below the horizon.
Ruff cursed. “How do we get down?” She leaned over the side of the ledge, but there was no clear path down, not even handholds in the crumbling rock. They were suspended a fair distance above the forest below. It was too high to jump. “Don’t just stand there,” she said angrily, rounding on her brother, who had offered no help.
He was staring down at the thing in his hands. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.
Hiccup’s spyglass. Ruff swallowed as she turned it over in her hands, her fingers exploring the familiar stitching in the side. “Okay,” she said. “We just have to find him before they find us.” She gestured to the cave opening, still empty.
Tuffnut nodded and turned to consider the opening, too. The wind swirled again, pushing the endlessly rotating debris against Tuffnut’s boot. He glanced down, shaking the twigs off with a small frown. A dash of color caught his eye.
Tilting his head, Tuffnut leaned down, snagged the tatter of bright red, and pulled. “Oh, gods,” he said. The unmistakable red fabric of Toothless’ tail fin fluttered in his fingertips, the painted white design cleaved through the middle by something sharp and serrated.
Ruffnut watched the fabric quiver in the wind, then raised her wide eyes to meet Tuffnut’s. “We need to move quickly.”
Tuffnut nodded and let the wind tug the fabric out of his hand. He watched it drift away, settling somewhere in the forest below. “We need a way down,” he said.
“You see Barf and Belch?” Ruff asked, scanning the sky.
“No.” He shook his head, eyeing the cave entrance, still dark and silent.
“Should we call for them?” Ruff asked, peering at the opening, too. It was a gamble. If Barf and Belch could reach them in time, they’d be able to get away. But if the Speed Stingers heard, and got to them first…
Tuffnut squared his shoulders. “Let’s do it,” he said.
“Barf!” Ruff screamed.
“Belch!”
A roar resounded from the darkness of the caves.
Ruff and Tuff retreated to the edge of the cliff, staring into the shadows. Another roar. Frantic, restless chirps. An excited trill.
And then, clicking. Long, lethal talons clicking against rock as the Speed Stingers closed the distance between them.
The first one melted out of the darkness of the aperture of the cave, its mouth open, jaw unhinged grotesquely, far at the back of its neck. It turned its head, considering them with one red eye, the pupil a terrifyingly cold slit.
“Don’t move,” Ruffnut whispered. But there was nowhere for them to go; their backs brushed against the whistling wind, their heels sticking out past the ledge, over empty space.
Two more Speed Stingers crept into the fading light of dusk, flanking the first Stinger on either side. One clicked its claws against the rocky ledge, an agitated, impatient rhythm.
A powerful rush of wind battered them, bringing with it a new sound. Wings.
“Yes!” Ruff and Tuff cheered together as Barf and Belch swept low to the ledge. The twins leapt off the rock face and jumped onto their dragon’s back as the Zippleback flew away.
“Thank the gods,” Tuffnut breathed. “I thought–”
A reptilian growl guttered in the wind.
The twins whirled. One of the Stingers had jumped on Barf and Belch after them, and was advancing up their dragon’s tail, making its way to the riders, head low, stinger raised. A hunting stance.
“No, you don’t!” Ruff yelled, producing a mace from nowhere and swinging it at the Speed Stinger with wild violence. The Stinger shrieked and fell off their dragon, but not before it had buried its blood-red barb deep into Barf and Belch’s scales.
The Zippleback solidified beneath them, green scales washing gray and hardening with a sickening crackle.
They plummeted to the forest below, the twins screaming, Barf and Belch unable to make their distress known. Paralyzed, the Zippleback crashed through the canopy, and the momentum threw Ruff and Tuff away.
The twins cracked through sticks and twigs, eventually slamming into branches solid enough to hold them. They clung to the tree, panting with effort as they scrambled up to safety.
“Barf!” Ruffnut shouted. “Bel–!”
“Shhh!” Tuffnut scrambled over to her and clapped a hand over her mouth. “We don’t want the Stingers to find us again,” he said.
For a moment, Ruffnut shook with a mixture of rage and anguish, but then she nodded. Tuffnut removed his hand.
“Do you think we lost them?” Ruff asked in a whisper, leaning over the branch and peering down into the dark undergrowth. In the oncoming night, the forest floor was barely visible.
Tuffnut examined the ground around them, too, sweeping his gaze across the lush landscape, the previously pleasant swathes of green now ominous patches of unfathomable shadow. Near the trunk of the tree across from them, something moved. Leaves rustled in a telltale whisper.
“There!” Tuffnut breathed, tapping Ruff’s shoulder and pointing down at the shifting shadows. The silhouette moved, then huffed.
“It’s a boar,” Ruffnut said, dropping her voice to a more cautious volume. Something else moved along the path behind it, but it made no rustle. No sound at all. The small figure tracked the boar.
The clouds shifted overhead and finally exposed the moon, filtering silver light down through the treetops and illuminating the scene below. It was a Speed Stinger, trailing unnoticed behind the boar.
“It’s being hunted.” Tuff clenched the branch tighter, leaning forward for a better look.
“By just one Stinger?” Ruff asked, peering around her brother.
Tuffnut shook his head. “No,” he said. “They’re never alone.”
The Speed Stinger hissed, loud and menacing. It startled the boar, which ran forward. Tuffnut recognized the briefest flash of movement, and before he could process what was happening, two Speed Stingers streaked out of the foliage on either side of the boar. One of them jabbed it with its stinger, and the boar froze, paralyzed instantly.
The three Speed Stingers circled the boar, chirping curiously, their sharp talons snagging in the long grass.
One of them lunged forward with a vicious snarl, and sank its teeth around the boar’s neck.
Tuff and Ruff gasped, pulling back and ducking low to the branch, out of sight. They stared at the gnarled bark, breathing shakily as the Stingers devoured the boar, the sounds of their feasting clearly audible in the trees. Tuffnut flinched as something snapped. The Stingers’ growls were muffled. Something tore wetly. Teeth gnashed on flesh, clicked hollowly against bone.
And then, movement in the grass. Sliding.
Tuff peered through the branches. The three Stingers were dragging the remainder of the carcass away. He watched them go, muscles taut, heart pounding. Only when they were out of sight for several minutes did he begin to relax.
He leaned back and met eyes with Ruffnut. “Speed Stingers were already scary,” he said.
“But these ones,” she whispered, “are hungry.”
Tuffnut shuddered. “We need to find Barf and Belch. They’re defenseless while they’re paralyzed, and–” He remembered the snap of bone, and blanched.
Ruffnut nodded, looking sick. “Let’s go,” she said.
The two of them scaled down the tree and tracked back to their dragon, carefully avoiding the glistening path in the grass where the Stingers had headed for their nest. They jumped at every broken twig, paused at every rustle of the bushes, stood back to back defensively when claws scrabbled against bark. But they made it to Barf and Belch with no sightings of the Speed Stingers.
Their dragon had crashed at the very edge of the forest, just a body’s length away from the edge of the island and the ocean below. The moonlight illuminated their rigid scales, their useless wings, their unmoving eyes.
“Oh, Barf,” Ruff whispered. She patted Barf’s head comfortingly while Tuff stroked Belch’s neck.
“Any ideas?” Tuff asked, flicking his gaze back to the surrounding forest.
Ruff frowned. “I wish they avoided something other than daylight. We’ve got nothing to fend them off.” She sighed and paced around Barf and Belch, Tuffnut mirroring her movements in the opposite direction.
They stopped with both of them on the island’s edge, toeing the rocky cliffs, listening to the ocean thrash below. They exchanged glances–the beginnings of an idea–and dropped to their hands and knees, peering safely over the edge.
“Yes!” Ruff cheered in a whisper. Tuff waved his arms in a silent triumphant dance.
Below the cliff’s edge, about a quarter of the way down to the ocean, was a rocky outcropping similar to the one outside the cave exit. The rock shelf was nearly invisible in the dim moonlight, but it looked large, wide enough to hold the twins and their dragon, with room to spare. Best of all, it appeared to be inaccessible from the ground, unless the Speed Stingers were crazy enough to jump and strand themselves.
The twins shared conniving grins and circled back around their dragon.
“You think it’ll hold all our weight?” Ruff asked.
A stick snapped in the forest behind them. Something glowed red out of the darkness.
“It’ll have to,” Tuffnut said.
Speed Stingers sprang out of the shadows, but the twins were already running. With an almighty yell, they shoved their combined force into Barf and Belch, and the three of them rolled over the edge of the cliff, vanishing into the inky blackness below.
Notes:
Hey, there! Thanks so much for reading! Just wanted to take a moment to say that I am so, so grateful for all of the comments! I'm not responding to them since I don't want to give away the story in any way, or otherwise influence the perceptions of my work. But, I will happily respond to all the comments on the very last chapter. Until then, though I hold my silence, know that I'm loving all of the feedback, support, and speculation. You guys keep me writing. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, and I hope my work continues to thrill, please, and tease. Catch ya later! - who is sabrina
Chapter 12: Safe and Sound
Chapter Text
Barf and Belch slammed onto the rock shelf midway down the cliff, and Ruff and Tuff were thrown off their dragon. They rolled away, coming to a stop at the rocky edge.
The twins scrambled back to Barf and Belch, peering into the darkness overhead. They scanned the edge of the island, its outline threaded in silvery moonlight. Shapes moved along the rim. Red eyes glowed from the shadows. Draconic chirps cut above the low rush of the ocean. The Speed Stingers were watching, debating.
Ruff pulled out her mace, holding it at the ready. But after several moments, the shadows melted away, and the huffs of breath and curious trills faded, lost in the sounds of the night. Ruffnut sighed, lowering her mace and sagging against Barf’s solidified neck. “They’re gone,” she breathed.
“Thank Thor.” Tuff turned away from the island and examined the limits of their questionable shelter, toeing the edge and peering at the churning ocean below. He paced back to where the ledge hugged the side of the island. He frowned. A narrow path snaked away to the right, curving into a gap in the cliff face. It was impossible to tell whether the path reached the main island or not. He gulped, elbowing Ruffnut and gesturing at the path. “Do you think it leads back to the island?”
Ruff pursed her lips. “I hope not,” she said. “Otherwise the Stingers might be able to reach us after all.” She gave the shadowy path one last wary look, then turned and began rummaging through their saddle bag. A quiet squawk rent the uneasy silence. Ruffnut pulled a Terrible Terror out of the bag.
“Wow, that thing slept through all that?” Tuff asked, mildly impressed. The Terror hopped onto Barf and Belch’s back, unfurled its wings in a long stretch, then curled up in a ball again, closing its eyes.
“Hey,” Ruff said, poking it with the pencil she fished out of the bag. “You can’t sleep yet; you’ve got a job to do.”
“Can you see well enough to write?” Tuff asked, glancing up at the night sky. The glittering mass of stars streamed down on them, adding only slightly to the moonlight.
“Eh, it might be a little sloppy, but it’ll have to do. I’ll make it short.” Ruff pulled a blank scroll of parchment out of the bag, then spread it flat on the rock ledge. She laid down beside it and began to write.
“How soon do you think Astrid’ll get here?” Tuff asked, eyeing the cliff path. The darkness there was unmoving.
“Soon,” Ruff said. “Stormfly’s fast.”
Tuff nodded. “Don’t forget to tell her about Hiccup.” He twitched his fingers, remembering the feel of the coarse fabric of Toothless’ red tail fin in his hands. The tear down the middle. The frayed edges of the shredded fabric. He swallowed, seeing the flash of the vermillion stinger in his mind’s eye. He glanced at Ruff, who was scrawling across the page with clear urgency. “Do you think they got them? ‘Cause you know they’re a package deal. If the Stingers froze one of them, they brought both of them down.”
Ruff stopped at the end of the letter, holding the pencil above the parchment, the charcoal tip trembling slightly in her hand. She tightened her grip on it, taking a deep breath. “Hiccup and Toothless are probably hiding somewhere, like we are.” She rolled up the parchment and stood, her jaw set, the muscles in her arms tense and strained. “We’ll find them in the morning,” she said, tying the note to the Terror’s leg and sending it off. She stood beside Tuffnut, examining the cliff passageway, too. “If we survive the night.”
Hiccup peeled the last of the bandages away from his torso, completely revealing the skin beneath. Its usual pale sheen was marbled with purple that deepened to black when the campfire guttered. A burn mark glistened in the firelight on his right side, the skin beginning to heal, but still raw in places. With each breath Hiccup took, his chest expanded, then relaxed, moving in a steady cadence. It was the only thing about him that could be described as steady.
Snotlout gritted his teeth. Even his cousin’s weight had diminished. Hiccup had always been skinny, but his build now was different. He was no longer lean, but gaunt, his facial structure a little too clearly defined, his bones a little too outlined against his skin. Snotlout half wished that Hiccup had kept his tattered tunic on. He hated seeing this, hated being aware of every mark on Hiccup’s thin frame, every lingering effect of illness and injury. Sure, he was no longer missing, and he wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t okay, either. Not by a long shot.
Hiccup tossed the old bandages into the fire with a deft flick of his hand—that, too, Snotlout supposed, was something steady—and glanced over at his cousin. He arched an eyebrow.
“What?” Snotlout asked defensively.
“Ah, nothing,” Hiccup said with a slight shrug. Even his characteristically enthusiastic gestures had been scaled back, likely to avoid any pain from pulling at his injuries. But despite his poor condition, he was smiling, his tone amused. “It’s just that you look like you want to murder someone.” Hiccup’s emerald eyes flicked up and down Snotlout, studying his demeanor. “Mad about something?”
“No.” Snotlout snatched up the roll of fresh bandages. “Sit up straight.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hiccup drew himself up, correcting the slight slump in his posture.
Snotlout held the bandage against his cousin’s skin, then began winding it carefully. “Too tight?” he asked.
Hiccup shook his head, remaining silent.
Snotlout dropped his gaze back to the bandages and continued to wrap Hiccup’s ribs, his movements illuminated by the crackling fire nearby. The warmth of it washed over them, along with the bubbling of the nearby creek and the quiet whispers of the wind in the pines. Their dragons’ breaths huffed from their places behind them. The ocean waves breathed in the distance.
“Thanks for doing this,” Hiccup said.
“Shut up, Hiccup. And you better not tell the others. I don’t want them thinking I’ve gone soft.”
Hiccup laughed lightly, making the bandage slip in Snotlout’s fingers. “I don’t think anyone would ever think you’ve gone soft.”
Snotlout sighed inwardly. His dad would. He could almost hear Spitelout’s indignant scoff, see the haughty arch of his brows. What do you think you’re doing, boy-o? You’re not a healer. You’re not Hiccup’s servant. Let him do it on his own. It’s every Viking for himself, you know. Snotlout bit down on his rising insecurities and focused on the strength of their team. They were better together—all of them. They had proven that enough.
And despite the many times he had tried to quit, the times he had tried to force his will on the others, and the times his reckless actions had caused more harm than good, Snotlout had learned that he had a place among the riders. That, in defiance of the lingering voices hissing not needed and not good enough, he was accepted. Valued. Relied upon.
But trying to convince himself never worked half as well as these moments. Not the ones where Hiccup said, ‘I need you, Snotlout,’ or ‘Great job today, Snotlout,’ but rather the moments in which he said nothing. No protests. No questions. Just quiet, unreserved trust.
Snotlout dropped out of his thoughts as Hiccup began to tilt to one side.
“Hey.” Snotlout snapped in his cousin’s face, watching his eyes flicker open again. “You gotta stay upright for this.”
“Yeah,” Hiccup said, rubbing at his eyes and straightening his back. “Got it.” He cleared his throat as he watched Snotlout finish the bandaging. “So, how is everyone doing?” he asked as Snotlout tied a knot, then tossed him the spare tunic he’d brought from Dragon’s Edge. Hiccup pulled it over his head, obscuring the evidence of the hardships of the past few days. “How’s Astrid?”
“Astrid!” Snotlout sprung to his feet and cursed, running to Hookfang.
“What? What’s the matter?” Hiccup made to stand up, but Snotlout waved him down.
“Astrid’s gonna kill me,” he said, snagging the Terrible Terror from Hookfang’s side and hurrying back to the fire. “I was supposed to write her as soon as I found you.” He dropped to his knees at the fireside and dumped the contents of his saddle bag onto the grass. He seized a pencil and a roll of parchment. “Thanks a lot, Hiccup. Your insane poison story distracted me.”
“Hey, wait. You’re writing Astrid, right?”
“Yeah, duh.”
Hiccup stretched his hand out. “Let me write it.”
Snotlout hesitated.
“You know it’ll make her feel better if she sees my handwriting. That way she’ll know I’m okay.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘okay,’ exactly,” Snotlout said doubtfully, but he tossed the pencil into Hiccup’s waiting palm anyway.
“Yeah, whatever,” Hiccup said as Snotlout rolled him the parchment. “You know what I mean.” He unfurled it and began to write, scribbling quickly across the page. When he had finished, he rolled it up and gestured at the Terror in Snotlout’s lap. “C’mere, little guy.”
The Terror hopped down and padded toward Hiccup, but before he could get halfway, a dark winged form streaked from out of the surrounding darkness and barreled into Snotlout.
“Ah!” Snotlout cried, jerking back instinctively.
It was another Terrible Terror. It tilted its head at him and gave a squeaky roar. There was a message tied to its leg.
Hiccup and Snotlout exchanged bewildered glances.
“Well, open it,” Hiccup said, waving him on.
Snotlout untied the knot and spread the letter open, holding it near the light of the fire. “What the–?” He scanned the letter with mounting confusion.
“What is it?” Hiccup asked.
“It’s from Astrid,” Snotlout said, lowering the parchment with a frown. “She said she’s gone to help the twins, and that the twins found you.” He looked around suspiciously at the darkness encompassing the edges of the firelight.
“What? That’s impossible,” Hiccup said, glancing warily at their surroundings, too.
“I know.” Snotlout shook his head, then guffawed. “Muttonheads.”
But something had dawned on Hiccup. His eyes widened and he sat up onto his knees, looking more alert than he had for the last few hours. “Oh, no,” he whispered.
“What?”
Hiccup shook his head grimly. The wind kicked up, whistling more sharply through the trees, swirling the fire into chaotic agitation. The flickering light crossed over the bags under Hiccup’s eyes, the exhausted stoop of his spine, his hands planted in the grass to keep himself steady. “If they’re not here, but they think they’ve found me, then they must be on my trail. Which means–”
“Oh, Thor.” Snotlout gulped, catching on. He met Hiccup’s pained gaze.
The campfire sparked, embers hissing.
“Speed Stingers.”
Astrid wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and readjusted her grip on the saddle. Something roiled in her stomach as a dark land mass blotted out the stars on the horizon.
“There it is, Stormfly,” she whispered, taking one hand off the saddle to stroke Stormfly’s scales. “We’re gonna find him.”
Stormfly chirped happily.
Astrid smiled tremulously, then patted her dragon’s neck. “Come on,” she said. “Reconnaissance time. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, but the twins are in some kind of trouble, so let’s get a lay of the land.”
Stormfly adjusted her course, sweeping upwards, away from the ocean. She dipped her wings, and the two of them began to circle the island, inspecting it carefully.
“Mostly forest.” Astrid peered into the darkness, scanning the gaps between the trees. Something moved in the shadows. Astrid blinked and it was gone.
Stormfly roared uneasily.
“Yeah, I know, girl.” Astrid ran a hand down Stormfly’s neck in a soothing gesture. “Whatever that was, it was fast. Let’s steer clear.” Astrid leaned forward, trying to glimpse the rest of the island, its topography shrouded in night. “Caves,” she noted as they swooped by a small stretch of mountainous terrain. They curved around the cliffs, skimming more forest lands. A branch snapped nearby.
Stormfly dropped altitude and roared quietly.
“What is it?” Astrid asked as Stormfly steadied herself. They were now flying by the island’s cliffs, level with the forest floor. Astrid glanced down.
A short distance ahead, a rocky ledge jutted out from the side of the cliffs. A misshapen form took up most of the space. Astrid distinguished two familiar draconic heads.
“Barf! Belch! Ruff! Tuff!” She leaned forward in the saddle as Stormfly streaked closer, then hovered in place above the twins and their dragon. But there was no one else with them. No sleek black scales or glowing green eyes. No head of fluffed, wind-swept hair. No lean silhouette waving beside the twins. Astrid squashed down the disappointment that burned behind her eyes. “What are you guys doing down there?” she called.
The twins were jumping up and down on the ledge, waving—not in greeting, as Astrid had assumed, but in frantic warning. “Shhh!” they hissed, voices barely audible above the rush of Stormfly’s wings.
Something lurched out of the forest ahead.
Astrid gasped and jerked away, Stormfly moving with her as a Speed Stinger leapt off the edge of the island. Its glowing red eyes fixated on her, its rows of teeth glinting in the moonlight, chunks of flesh hanging from the gaps between them. Astrid’s knee-jerk movement had pulled her out of its violent trajectory, but it passed close enough that its putrid breath stung her nostrils. It slammed into Stormfly, then slipped over the edge of her wings, shrieking as it plummeted to the ocean below.
But the Stinger was not the only one plummeting. Stormfly’s scales grayed and hardened beneath Astrid’s hands.
“No!” she cried, but they dropped like a stone. Stormfly smacked against the rim of the twins’ rocky ledge, tilting preciously, and Astrid was propelled off of her, skidding to the edge.
She screamed as she toppled over the side, but a strong hand latched around her forearm. Astrid looked up, breathing heavily.
“Hang on,” Ruff grunted, reaching another hand down to bolster her grip. She pulled Astrid back onto solid rock. Together with Tuffnut, they shoved Stormfly closer to the side of the island, balanced more safely on the ledge.
“Speed Stingers.” Astrid sighed and slumped against Stormfly, running a hand down her face. “It had to be Speed Stingers.”
“Tell me about it,” Tuff said quietly, dropping to the floor, too.
Astrid rubbed her temples. “I thought you said you found Hiccup.”
Ruff tossed something to Astrid.
She caught it. Her breath hitched. “Hiccup’s spyglass,” she whispered, turning it over in her hands. The third stitch from the bottom was loose, the leather starting to pull apart. He had wanted to fix that. “Where’d you find this?”
“In the caves,” Ruff said. “And we found something else, too.”
“What?” Astrid asked, looking around curiously, but the twins produced nothing further.
“Toothless’ tail fin,” Tuff said, frowning down at his boots. “It was split down the middle.”
Astrid clenched her fists, tensing against the cold fingers of dread that brushed against the base of her neck. She swallowed and nodded once. “Then the Stingers missed. If they got the tail, they didn’t get Toothless. Hopefully they never did.”
“We think they’re hiding somewhere on the island, like we are,” Ruff said.
“Wait a minute.” Astrid shook her head. “Unless one of them got stung, there’s no reason they should be here. Hiccup packed a spare tail fin. They should’ve just flown away in the morning.”
Tuff growled. “Oh, great. So they’re either paralyzed, or…”
“Or gone.” Ruff cursed. “I thought we had him.”
“We still might, if they weren’t able to leave.” Astrid stood, pacing the limited distance of the ledge. “I sent word to Snotlout; he should be here by the morning. Once it’s light, we can search the island and determine for sure whether they’re here or not. Then we’ll either have found them, or we can rule this island out.” She sighed and glanced down at Hiccup’s spyglass. The lens reflected the scattered stars overhead. “All we need to do,” she said, “is wait out the night.”
“Uh, yeah, about that…”
Astrid turned, frowning at Tuffnut’s tone. “What?” she asked.
He gestured to the side of the island, heading to the boundary of their ledge with Ruffnut.
Astrid followed them, coming to a stop at their side. What she had thought was a boundary was instead a small path, the narrow passageway twisting up into the cliffs and out of sight. “Okay,” she said, with another long-suffering sigh. “Looks like waiting out the night just became a lot harder.”
Ruff hummed in agreement. “We don’t know if the Stingers can reach us that way or not.”
Astrid tramped back to Stormfly and retrieved her axe. “Better safe than sorry,” she said. She rejoined the twins and examined the path. It was sturdy and thick, but at least it was narrow. “We’ve gotta take this down,” she said. “Then we know we’re secure. If they find this path and come for us, we have no defense.”
The twins pulled out their own weapons, regarding the pathway doubtfully.
“We’ve gotta bring it down with nothing but our close combat weapons?” Ruff asked.
Astrid advanced up the path and knelt down. “Yep,” she said. “Our dragons are out of commission, so unless you have a better plan…”
Ruff sighed and dropped to her knees beside Astrid, skirting the outer contour of the passage. “We’ll only be able to work two at a time.”
“Then we’ll rotate.” Astrid brought her axe down against the rock. It cracked, a tiny, shallow fissure running through the surface.
Ruff smashed her mace against the pathway with a crunch. The crack splintered more. A sliver of rock broke away. “This is gonna take all night.”
Astrid hefted her axe, glancing at the shadowy reaches up ahead. “We don’t have all night.”
Chapter 13: Nothing to Worry About
Chapter Text
Hiccup pushed himself up on his knees and stood, swaying alarmingly in the firelight.
“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Snotlout shot to his feet as Hiccup steadied himself and headed for Toothless, who stirred from his sleep and stretched.
“We need to help them,” Hiccup said, cinching his saddle bag more securely to Toothless’ side.
“Hey, no, wait a minute!” Snotlout strode past Hookfang, who rumbled, opened a bleary eye to watch Snotlout track by, then went back to sleep. “We don’t need to do anything,” Snotlout said, marching into Hiccup’s space and moving him away from Toothless. “You need to take it easy.”
“But the Speed Stingers—”
“—are dangerous, I know. But Astrid and the twins can handle themselves.” Snotlout continued to guide Hiccup back to the fireside, Toothless padding along in the grass behind them.
Hiccup returned to the campfire without protest, but didn’t sit back down. He shook his head. “If Astrid went to help the twins, then the twins are already in trouble. They might be downed. You think she and Stormfly can get the twins and Barf and Belch out of there by themselves?”
Toothless warbled, curling behind Hiccup in a comforting gesture, pressing his head against his rider’s back. Hiccup moved his hand back automatically, running it over Toothless’ scales.
“Stormfly can take the weight just fine,” Snotlout said, easing to the ground and hoping that Hiccup would follow.
But Hiccup continued to stand, folding his arms and frowning down at Snotlout. “I know that,” he said. “But the weight will slow them down. How could they be fast enough to get away from the Speed Stingers then? Toothless and I barely made it.”
Snotlout glanced away, glaring into the fire.
“And what if the Stingers get Astrid or Stormfly, too?” Hiccup continued, unrelenting. His tone was hard and forceful, but his knees buckled. He stumbled back against Toothless, letting his dragon take some of his weight. “Then what happens?”
Snotlout clenched his fists around tufts of grass and forced himself to let out a slow breath. “I know they’re in trouble, Hiccup. I know they might need help. I’m not arguing with you about that.”
Hiccup huffed and rolled his eyes. “Then why are we arguing at all?”
“Because of you.”
“Me? What–?”
“Yes, you.” Snotlout sighed bitterly and got to his feet again, a familiar rush of heat building within him. He advanced on Hiccup with clenched fists, the muscles in his arms taut. “Do you think I forgot the bruises all over your body just because you put a tunic over it? Do you think I forgot the bruised ribs, or the burn, or the bags under your eyes? You think I don’t notice the way you wince when you move, the way you sway when you stand? Or how about the way you support your weight with your hands, against trees, against walls, against Toothless?”
Hiccup shifted off of Toothless, mouth pressed in a thin line, brow creased as he glared back at Snotlout. Toothless shifted, too, trying to support Hiccup again.
“Or,” Snotlout asked through gritted teeth, “is it that you think I’ve forgotten the fact that you nearly died?”
Hiccup glared at Snotlout for several more moments as the fire crackled between them, his posture straight, his head held high in steely defiance. Then he glanced away.
Toothless crooned.
“Ugh, fine.” Hiccup sighed and sagged against Toothless, no longer fighting the exhaustion. He sat down on the grass and leaned back into his dragon. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer.
Snotlout nodded once, then took his seat again, too, avoiding his cousin’s gaze.
“I know I’m not exactly in great shape. But they’re still in danger,” Hiccup said. “So you should go.”
Toothless huffed in his rider’s face, a deep grunt of disapproval.
“I agree, Toothless,” Snotlout said. “That’s a terrible idea.” He stabbed his finger at Hiccup, voice dropping to a threatening growl. “You’ve been missing for almost an entire week, and I just found you, and I swear to Odin I am not leaving this island without you. Got it?”
Hiccup groaned. “I appreciate that, Snotlout, but–”
“No,” Snotlout said with finality. “That option is off the table.”
“Then we go together.”
Snotlout picked at the grass beside him, twisting the blades. He was silent for a long moment. “Just get some sleep, Hiccup,” he said. He continued to pull at the grass, the firelight flicking restlessly over the greenery. Astrid and the twins would have to be okay on their own. Hiccup was in no shape to fly.
The bubbling of the creek and the distant roar of the ocean droned in the background, accompanied by the sharp, raspy whistle of wind in the pines. Hookfang grunted in his sleep. Snotlout chanced a glance at his cousin, hoping to find him asleep, too.
Of course he wasn’t. He was lying back against Toothless, his arms crossed over himself, staring up at the stars. But he was fighting the lull of unconsciousness, his eyes drifting shut and blinking open again.
“The island looked peaceful at first,” Hiccup said, the words running together in a slight slur.
Snotlout frowned. He should ignore Hiccup, force him to get some sleep. But he was curious. He took a deep breath, then asked, “This island?”
Hiccup moved his head a fraction of an inch. “Where the twins are,” he said. “And Astrid.”
Oh, great. Snotlout turned away and began wrenching at the grass again. Of course they were back to this. “Hiccup–”
“We’d been flying for a while. Landed for a break.” Hiccup shifted his position against Toothless, stifling a wince. “And we noticed these trails,” he said. “Game trails, all over the island, paths in the undergrowth worn down where something was dragging its kills. Some were grown over, but there were recent paths. Fresh blood.” Hiccup’s features crinkled in the starlight. “Parts.”
Snotlout stilled, his fingers wrapped around a chunk of grass but unable to pull it out.
“So we followed a trail,” Hiccup continued, voice low and breathy. “It led back to these caves. We stopped on a ledge, surveyed the island. Then we went into the caves at sunset. As soon as we crossed that threshold, we knew we weren’t alone. We could hear them in the dark.”
Goosebumps rippled across Snotlout’s forearms. He knew those sounds all too well—the curious trills, the primal, high-pitched roars, the racing pattern of talons on the ground as the Stingers stalked from the shadows.
“Recognized the sounds immediately.” Hiccup sighed quietly, a lingering exhale that hung in the darkness at the edges of the campfire. “Tried to sneak away, but they were already after us. Just as we reached the cave entrance, one of the Stingers caught up. Sliced its barbed tail clean through Toothless’ prosthetic fin. Shredded the fabric. We crashed—one of our better landings, actually—and I barely got the spare on before they found us again.” Hiccup sat up a little straighter against Toothless. “We got away in the nick of time,” he said, turning to meet Snotlout’s gaze levelly. “If I had been one second slower, we would never have left that island.”
Snotlout drew his hand back from the grass and wiped his palms off on the fabric of his pants. He looked away from Hiccup, down at his hands, staring at the dirt encrusted beneath his fingernails.
“When we left, we flew low to the water, circling the edges of the island.” His voice was even softer now, a whisper that all but vanished in the wind. “There was a natural harbor,” he said, “tucked away beneath the cliffs, where the ocean had sculpted these vast caverns. We didn’t stop to explore it, but we flew close enough to get a look. There was a single ship floating there, dulled with dust, the pattern on the sail indistinguishable. It had been sitting in the water for so long that the hull was starting to decompose. You could smell the mold eating away at the siding. Whatever rope had anchored it to land had long since withered away, but it was stuck there, drifting in the tide.” Hiccup gritted his teeth and adjusted his position again, now sitting up straight. “Toothless and I were lucky to get off that island,” he said. “Clearly, not everyone does.”
Snotlout stood, scrubbing a hand down his face with a quiet groan. He started to pace, boots swishing in the lush grass. “Okay,” he said. “Even if I agreed that we should go—and I haven’t, by the way—we still have a problem.”
Hiccup closed his eyes wearily. “Don’t say me.”
“Toothless.”
“Toothless?” Hiccup asked, eyes springing open. Toothless lifted his head and snorted at Snotlout, offended.
“No, I mean his tail,” Snotlout said, gesturing to the tail fin with the old, tattered canvas still hanging off.
Hiccup shook his head. “That’s not a problem,” he said. “The mechanism works perfectly fine, thank you very much. It’s just the fabric that didn’t hold.” He looked pointedly toward the fire.
Snotlout followed his gaze to where he had dumped the contents of his saddle bag earlier. Clean, folded fabric draped around a pair of amber-coated goggles. “Fine,” Snotlout said. “You’re lucky Fishlegs made me pack a bunch of random crap for you.”
“I’ll be sure to thank him later,” Hiccup said, a small smile taking the edge off his haggard expression. He reached a hand forward.
Snotlout knelt by his things and tossed the fabric to Hiccup; it sailed past his outstretched hand and landed in his lap.
“Perfect.” Hiccup gestured at Toothless’ tail, and his dragon obediently swung it around to his rider. Hiccup detached the prosthetic tail fin with practiced ease and began removing the torn canvas. When he had finished, he twisted carefully around to pull a roll of tools out of his saddle bag.
“Hang on.” Snotlout strode over to Hiccup’s side and snatched the tools, holding them up out of reach.
“What now?” Hiccup asked, frowning. He made a half-hearted grab for his supplies, but Snotlout kept them away.
“If we do this,” Snotlout said, “we do this on my terms. You hang back. You don’t engage. You stay out of danger. Got it?”
Hiccup flushed, red creeping into his sallow cheeks. “Snotlout–”
“I know you like to push yourself and test your limits, but you can’t do that. Not tonight.” Snotlout held Hiccup’s gaze. “If we go,” he said, “we’re leaving that island with everybody. That means Hookfang and I back up Astrid and the twins, and you don’t get yourself killed. Okay?”
For a moment, Hiccup held his silence, his jaw set, and Snotlout was reminded that this was the Viking who had hunted down a Night Fury alone in the hopes of winning his tribe’s approval, who had doggedly sought Hamish’s treasure in pursuit of his father’s acceptance, who had kept the bounty on his head a secret with the aim of shouldering the burden himself. But he had grown a lot over the last handful of years. He had risen above that recklessly self-destructive streak, Snotlout thought. He had stopped striving to rid himself of the title of “Useless,” had grown out of his desire to prove himself, the need to earn his place. Month by month, year by year, he was learning to settle into the respect and loyalty that Berk had already given him long ago.
Hiccup relaxed. His posture faltered and some of the tension left his face. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Deal.”
Snotlout slapped the roll of tools into Hiccup’s palm. “Let’s do this.”
Hiccup rolled out the tools and slid a sharp blade from its pouch, then began to unfold the fabric. Snotlout watched him measure it against the prosthetic fin for several seconds, then he turned and paced around the fire while Hiccup continued to work.
If Hiccup was right—like usual, Snotlout noted sourly—then the twins were already downed. Astrid would be on her way. He shook his head, remembering the desperate rage on Astrid’s face as she had struggled against him and Fishlegs, trying to visit her wrath upon the Dragon Hunter who had taunted them about Hiccup’s absence. No, Astrid would have wasted no time speeding to the twins, to Hiccup—or so she must have thought. Astrid would be at the island right now. Snotlout bit his lip. How had they fared against the Speed Stingers?
“Ah.”
Snotlout jolted out of his thoughts as Hiccup hissed. He whirled on his cousin. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Hiccup said quickly, grabbing scrap fabric and wrapping it around his right hand. As Snotlout watched, the beige fabric darkened, red blooming in the center and running outwards in eerie tendrils.
“Are you serious, Hiccup?” Snotlout chided. “I turn my back for two seconds and you’re bleeding?”
“No, I just– the knife slipped,” he said, gesturing at the fabric, the distinctive tail fin shape halfway cut. The edge of the fabric was spattered with drops of red.
“Give me that.” Snotlout knelt beside Hiccup and yanked the knife and fabric away from him. “Just show me where to cut.”
Hiccup sighed and traced the outline. Snotlout followed his instructions as closely as possible, scowling as he sliced through the fabric. Hiccup was usually so careful. His wrists and forearms, Snotlout knew, were riddled with burn marks and scarred slivers from his time as Gobber’s apprentice, learning how to work with metal and fire, how to move meticulously, with calculation. Those scars were all old because Hiccup had learned from them. Everyone knew the deftness of his hands, the unerring steadiness of his movements when he was busy with his craft. And yet, just now, Hiccup had slipped.
Snotlout finished cutting the fabric, and Hiccup tugged it away, arranging it over the mechanism and readying a needle and thread.
“You can’t hurt yourself with a needle, can you?” Snotlout elbowed his cousin lightly, avoiding his injuries.
“Shut up, Snotlout.”
Snotlout chuckled quietly and leaned back, watching Hiccup work. He threaded the needle through the fabric in precise intervals, his hands moving in rhythm with Toothless’ breaths. Snotlout wondered briefly if that was coincidental or on purpose, but he figured it didn’t matter. Hiccup seemed to be working smoothly and steadily again.
“Almost done,” Hiccup murmured as he stitched.
Snotlout raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
Hiccup hummed in agreement. “This is the easy part,” he said. “Just a few more stitches, and– oh, great.” He lifted his bandaged hand, and the tail fin came with it. Two stitches connected the fabric of the tail fin to Hiccup’s sleeve. “I can fix that.”
Snotlout raked his knuckles against his forehead, watching as Hiccup undid the stitches. “You’re not inspiring a lot of confidence here.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Hiccup said, shaking back his sleeve and picking up the stitching again. “I’m running on no sleep.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be going on a rescue mission.” Snotlout pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting his decision.
Hiccup sighed. “We’ve been through this,” he said irritably, cutting the thread and tying it off in a knot. He held the tail fin out in front of them, closing it and opening it again, the mechanism whirring and clicking. Hiccup nodded, then crawled over to Toothless’ tail and attached it. His movements were familiar and quick, well-rehearsed. “Look,” he said, turning back to Snotlout. “I know I won’t be much help.” He swallowed and gestured at the space between them. “But we,” he said, “are all they’ve got.”
Astrid leaned against Stormfly, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles on her dragon’s scales. Her forearms ached, a steady, throbbing pain that at least provided some distraction. She would rather focus on that than Hiccup.
Astrid groaned quietly and put her head down on Stormfly. It was too late; she was thinking about him again. “I’m so tired,” she whispered, her vulnerable admission drowned out by the metallic crunches of Ruff and Tuff hacking away at the cliff passage. These words were meant only for Stormfly and herself. “I’m tired of being on edge all the time. Constantly wondering, questioning, imagining.” It felt good to vent aloud, almost as good as smashing her axe repeatedly against rock. “I’m sick of being worried.”
Stormfly didn’t move, but Astrid could envision her response—a sympathetic chirp, a comforting gesture, her snout pressing into Astrid’s palm.
“I just want to know,” Astrid said, tilting her head to watch the twins slam their maces into the path. A chunk of rock slid away and dropped to the ocean below. “I want to know where he is, if he’s okay. If he’s even alive.” Her breath hitched and she clung tightly to Stormfly. “What terrifies me the most,” she said, “is the possibility that we’ll never know.”
In Astrid’s mind, Stormfly huffed her dissent.
“You’re right, girl,” Astrid murmured, nodding. She swallowed and straightened her back, raising herself to her full height. “We will find him,” she said. “Sooner or later. No matter what it takes.” Astrid closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, running a hand down Stormfly’s neck. “Thanks for the pep talk, girl,” she said, smiling sadly. Then she hoisted her axe and strode to Ruff and Tuff.
“Only a couple hours until dawn,” Tuff said. “Maybe they won’t find us.”
“That would be nice.” Ruff brought her mace down against the path, splintering more rock. Little pieces trickled off the edge and fell soundlessly to the water beneath. “Although that would mean we did all this for nothing, and that would kind of suck.”
“Personally, I’d prefer the first option,” Astrid said. She tapped Ruffnut’s shoulder. “My turn.”
Ruff stood and backed away while Tuff shifted his position so Astrid could kneel beside him. And in the brief absence of the clink of metal against rock, a guttural growl unfurled from the darkness.
“Get back!” Astrid pulled Tuff away from the break in the path until the three of them stood side by side on the ledge.
Four red eyes glowed from the shadows on the passage.
“Two of them,” Ruff noted in a whisper. “What do we do?”
Astrid stepped further back and her heel clicked against stone—the pile of rubble they had been stacking out of the way. “Rocks,” Astrid breathed, bending down and feeling for three suitable projectiles, keeping her eyes fixed on the advancing Stingers. She passed two rocks to Tuff, who passed one along to his sister.
“Now?” Tuff asked. He raised the rock over his head as the Stingers edged forward, their pale green forms ghostly and indistinct in the dim moonlight.
“Wait,” Ruff said. “Let’s see if they can make the jump. Maybe we cleared enough of the path already.”
“Good plan.” Astrid retreated further with the twins, distancing themselves from the separation in the path. “Be ready,” she warned.
The Stingers crept forward, the scrape of their talons audible on the stone as they closed in. One of them hissed, then lunged. Its powerful legs propelled it over the gap in the passage, its jaws stretching open as it pounced.
It landed easily on their side of the path.
“No!” Ruff growled, flinging her rock. The missile found its mark, striking the Stinger on the side of its head, and it stumbled backwards.
Tuff hurled his rock, too, and it smashed into the Stinger’s leg, knocking it back, over the edge of the cliff. For a moment, the Stinger struggled for purchase, shrieking its outrage. But then, unbalanced, it toppled over the side and disappeared.
“Get the other one!” Tuff scrambled for more rocks, but Astrid had already pitched hers at the retreating Stinger.
The rock shattered against the cliff face, crumbling in the empty darkness.
Astrid cursed. “It was too fast.” She ran a hand through her hair and stood there beside the twins, panting.
Tuffnut leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “At least they’re gone.”
“They’re not gone.” Astrid snagged her axe from the ground and approached their too-small gap in the passage. “Those were scouts,” she said. “That one is returning to the pack, and then it’ll come back with more.”
“We won’t be able to hold them all off.” Tuff lifted his mace and rejoined Astrid on the path. “Not without our dragons. Not without help.”
Astrid grasped her axe tighter, her fingers molding into the familiar leather grip. “I know.”
“Snotlout was trying to find Hiccup, too,” Ruff said. “If he doesn’t get here in time–”
Astrid struck her axe violently against the path. “I know,” she said again.
Tuff smashed his mace into the passageway, too, frowning. “And if he does come, and he does help us, but Hiccup isn’t here anyway, then all we did was waste more time.” Tuff said nothing else, but he didn’t need to.
Every second without Hiccup was another chance for disaster, another possibility that they were too far away to help when it was needed most. That they would find him too late. That they would miss their shot. That the worst would happen before they could do anything to stop it.
Astrid lifted her axe again, focusing on the burn in her muscles. “Believe me,” she said, “I know.”
Chapter 14: Stronghold
Chapter Text
The further they flew, the tighter the knot in Snotlout’s stomach became.
He was caught between two crucial goals—protecting Hiccup, and rescuing Astrid and the twins—that seemed utterly incompatible. Like trying to put out a fire while needing to conserve the water supply, there was something lost in every gain toward one goal or the other. Every delay to favor Hiccup’s ill health was a setback for Astrid and the twins, and every continued effort to help them took a visible toll on Hiccup.
Hookfang coasted alongside Toothless, half a dragon length behind—out of habit, but also so that Snotlout could keep a better eye on Hiccup. The cutting wind seemed to take a filleting knife to his cousin’s spine, peeling his strength away like scales from a fish. As Snotlout watched, Toothless gave a quiet roar of alarm and fumbled in the air, accommodating for Hiccup’s sloppy riding for the third time in the last half-hour.
“That does it.” Snotlout urged Hookfang forward. “We’re landing,” he called, guiding his dragon to a nearby cluster of sea stacks.
Hiccup made a noise of protest, but Toothless changed course, the click of the automatic tail fin lost in the rush of the wind and waves.
“Oh, c’mon, Snotlout,” Hiccup said as soon as their dragons touched down on the slick rock. “I’m sick of having this conversation. We’re nearly there!”
“Hey! You agreed to my terms,” Snotlout reminded him, sliding off Hookfang and stomping over to Hiccup. “And I say we need to figure out another way to do this, because I am not letting you get killed.”
Hiccup’s face flushed, bringing a ghost of color to his sickly pale skin. In the moonlight, he looked made of wax, like he’d crack in two if dropped. “Astrid and the twins need help,” he said for maybe the hundredth time that night.
“Yeah,” Snotlout agreed, “but you can’t give it to them. You can’t even fly straight. How are you supposed to swoop in and rescue them?”
This was enough to incense Hiccup into scrambling down off Toothless, a simple action that took way too much effort in his current state.
The anger drained away from Snotlout, leaving a bedrock of dry certainty.
Hiccup found his footing and opened his mouth to argue.
“Go stand on the moss,” Snotlout said, cutting him off.
Hiccup stared. “What? What does that even—? Why?”
“Do it.” Snotlout pointed at the bright green moss that blanketed the center of the sea stack.
“Fine.” Hiccup shook his head and crossed to the fluffy ground cover. “If the only way we can continue this conversation is on the moss, then so be—Whoa!” His grumbling broke off into a strangled cry as Snotlout gave him a calculated shove, toppling his cousin onto the soft growth.
Toothless barked a growl, sweeping forward to intercept them, but Snotlout waved him down. “I’m not gonna hurt him, Toothless,” he said.
“Too late,” Hiccup groused. He moved to sit up, but Snotlout got on top of him, pinning him gently but firmly.
“Okay, Hiccup. If you can get up, we’ll go.”
“Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous! We’re wasting time!”
Snotlout didn’t move. “If you really think you can go on this rescue mission, prove it.”
With a huff of annoyance, Hiccup started to struggle under Snotlout’s hold, half-heartedly at first, then with purpose. Snotlout maintained a light grip, evaluating. Within seconds, Hiccup was panting with the effort, and Snotlout had not moved an inch.
“I don’t think this is a very fair test,” Hiccup managed between breaths.
Snotlout was unmoved. “Yeah, you can fool everyone else with your skinny physique all you want, but I haven’t forgotten I lost two teeth to you.”
Hiccup struggled for a few more moments, then relented. He dropped his head back onto the moss with a sigh, looking away to glare at the night sky around them. “Okay, fine. You win,” he admitted. “I’m down.”
Snotlout got off him immediately and rolled onto his back beside his cousin, feeling no pleasure in this victory. Speed Stingers were probably surrounding their friends even now.
“You should go,” Hiccup said. His voice was hoarse, grated with defeat.
Snotlout had never wished more that he could be in two places at once. “I can’t—“
“Snotlout. You swore you wouldn’t leave me on that island, and you didn’t. You did good. I appreciate you.” Hiccup took a deep breath. “But I can’t get into any trouble on a sea stack in the middle of the ocean, okay? You can leave me now.”
But something—Snotlout didn’t know what exactly—prevented him from agreeing. They were so close to Astrid and the twins now, and Snotlout could easily fly off to help, then return with the rest of the gang. But the idea of it felt wrong, didn’t sit right on his chest.
Something tugged at his memory. A rule, about the short term and the long term.
Snotlout gazed up at the glimmering sky, listening to Hiccup’s labored breathing beside him, and the memory pooled around him like water: a dragon raid, in the years before the Red Death. His dad, framed in firelight, standing in place while a wave of Viking warriors broke around him, rushing on.
Snotlout sank into the recollection.
He was just a kid at the time, but allowed out during raids to tend to the fires that cropped up. He’d strayed from his peers to douse a fire near the village center when he’d seen it: the exact moment in which a Monstrous Nightmare raked an enormous talon across Stoick’s middle. Snotlout had been half-afraid the chief would simply separate, pieces of him rolling away like cut timber. But Stoick only sank to the ground, doubled over with his back to Snotlout, so that he hadn’t seen the blood.
Snotlout’s dad sprang from nowhere and covered the chief, beating back the dragon’s attacks with a roar of fury. Seconds later, the rest of their contingent of Vikings caught up and forced the Nightmare to retreat.
Stoick, Spitelout, and the rest of their group had been advancing toward Berk’s grain storehouse, to hold the line there and prevent the dragons from igniting their precious reserves. But now, with Stoick down, the remaining fighters were looking to Spitelout for direction.
Snotlout held his breath, watching. Everything he knew about his father indicated that Spitelout would now lead the charge, sprinting toward the storehouse with a deep-throated war cry.
Spitelout raised a fist. “Protect the storehouse!” he yelled, and the clamor of a half-dozen blood-thirsty Vikings rumbled in the wake of his command, like thunder after lightning. Then they streamed to the storehouse, parting around the chief and Spitelout, who did not advance one single step.
Snotlout watched, confused, something akin to disappointment souring in the back of his mouth, as Spitelout knelt, helped the chief to his feet, and retreated in the direction of the Great Hall.
Later that night, Snotlout had found his dad celebrating with the group of Vikings who had successfully defended their grain stores. He was in high spirits, glowing with pride.
“There you are, boy-o!” Spitelout shouted upon seeing his son. He pulled Snotlout close in a rare affectionate mood. The scent of smoke, ale, and sweat stung his nose. “Come to celebrate with your father, eh?”
“Yeah,” Snotlout said, pasting a smile on his face as his dad hauled him up onto the bench beside him. This was weird. Spitelout was normally at his happiest and rowdiest after racing ahead to do something on his own—proving his mettle, as he called it, usually while thumping his chest. Why was he so prideful now, having stayed behind?
When the boastful chatter had faded to a quieter level of camaraderie, Snotlout took the opportunity to nudge his father. “Hey, Dad?”
“What is it, boy-o?”
Snotlout shifted in his seat. “Why didn’t you go to the storehouse with the rest of them?” Then he braced himself internally, expecting anger or indignation.
Spitelout surprised him for the second time that night. He patted Snotlout’s back and leaned in conspiratorially, signaling that he was about to give him some important advice. Snotlout straightened, watched his father with wide eyes.
“Hear this, boy: There is no glory in a short-term victory that sacrifices long-term success.”
Snotlout nodded, cataloging the words in his mind. No glory in a short-term victory that sacrifices long-term success.
“Sometimes, son,” Spitelout continued, “you must send your might”—he thumped a fist against his chest—“ahead of you”—he punched a commanding finger toward the middle distance—“while you hold your ground, and guard the path beyond.”
The path beyond. Snotlout scrunched his nose, trying to wrench meaning from this solemn pronouncement, to connect this explanation with what he’d seen in the village square. Spitelout standing resolute, the chief at his feet.
“Understand?” Spitelout asked.
Snotlout didn’t want to look stupid. “I understand you, Dad.”
His father clapped a large hand on his shoulder. “Good lad,” Spitelout said, and warmth ran like spilled ale down Snotlout’s front. He told himself he’d understand it later.
Snotlout had almost forgotten this line of wisdom in the book of lessons he’d learned from his father (some of which, he was realizing lately, were better than others). But it came back to him now, and after growing in the years since, through the lens of experience, it made sense to him this time around.
The path beyond—the long-term future of the tribe—was the most important thing to protect, something that could not be sacrificed for the sake of a single battle. That night, Spitelout had sent his might ahead to protect the storehouse, while he himself had remained behind for the most important task: guarding their future. A future which hadn’t been in the grain in the storehouse after all, but rather in the survival of the chief.
The reason Spitelout had held his ground while the Vikings raged into battle ahead of him that night was the very same reason Snotlout could not leave Hiccup here on this sea stack tonight.
Snotlout looked at Hiccup lying beside him on the moss and saw not the slightness of his build nor the exhaustion ringing his eyes, but the determined set of his jaw, the strength of will in the rise and fall of his chest. In under a week, he’d survived and endured three crash landings, a minor impalement, bruised ribs, malnutrition, fever, and a lethal dose of poison. He’d lived and investigated and even created through all of it. Unearthed and laid to rest a tribe’s tragic history, fashioned a tail fin for Toothless from scraps, gambled for his own life—and won.
Growing up alongside scrawny, accident-prone Hiccup and now living in close quarters on the Edge, it was easy to take all that Hiccup was for granted. To mold into everyday mundanity the man who had ended hundreds of years of war between Vikings and dragons. But sometimes—in moments like these—Snotlout was snapped into a wider view.
Hiccup was the future of Berk.
And he’d noticed the staring. He turned his head to regard Snotlout with a crease between his brows. “What?”
Snotlout was far ahead of this moment, in the path beyond. Years, maybe decades from now. More lines on their faces, more hardiness in their bones. More, or maybe less, like their fathers. Hiccup, Chief of Berk. Snotlout, his right hand.
“I said I wouldn’t leave that island without you,” Snotlout spoke finally, “but what I meant was, I’m not leaving you until we’re home safe.”
He waited for Hiccup’s protests or petulance, but neither came. Hiccup seemed to have clicked into that moment with Snotlout, the echoes of their future ringing back to haunt the past. Acceptance straightened Hiccup’s spine and he nodded—curt, matter-of-fact, like Stoick.
“So where do we go from here?” he asked.
Snotlout tapped his fingers in the spongey moss. “Send your might ahead of you,” he muttered.
Tuffnut’s fingers ached. His fingertips were curled awkwardly around the rim of Ruffnut’s helmet, which was filled with rocks they’d collected while deconstructing the thin ledge that snaked along the cliff face and back up to the main part of the island. Using Ruff’s helmet and an odd assembly of stray parts from the supplies in their packs, Tuff, Ruff, and Astrid had cobbled together a makeshift sling. Rudimentary as it was, it was helping them. For now.
The muscles in Tuff’s forearms burned as he and his sister held the helmet back, pulling against the tension of the sling.
The silence was near-deafening.
A bead of sweat ran down the back of Tuff’s tunic.
Trills from the other end of the path—the Speed Stingers returning again, testing the waters.
“Hold,” Astrid breathed.
The staccato of talons on rock. Curious. Cautious.
Closer now.
“Hold.”
Tuffnut peered into the darkness ahead, past the gap they’d made in the ledge. Shadows shifted in the inky black.
A draconic shriek pierced the night, and the shadows surged.
“Hold.”
Tuff could see them now, pale green skin spectral in the moonlight, jaws extended, scaly bodies rushing with inhuman speed—
“Loose!” Astrid shouted.
As one, Tuff and Ruff released the helmet, pelting the payload of rocks at the Stingers. Missiles clattered against rock, smacked into draconic scales. The Stingers hissed and retreated around the bend in the path. Again.
In the space before the next onslaught, Tuff and Ruff piled rocks into the empty helmet.
“This is the last load,” Tuff reported. He glanced at the sky, willing the moon to track faster across its path, the dawn to come a little quicker. But it was no use. They were out of time, and out of tactics.
“Any chance they’ll take the hint and leave?” Ruff asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Tuff said. “Maybe they’ll decide they’ve had enough this time, and go pick on some easier prey.”
Astrid, always strategy over solace, shook her head. “These guys are too smart. They’ll keep testing our line until they find a way in. And they’re about to, next time.”
Tuffnut cursed. “It totally sucks we have to go out fighting dragons, after we’ve stopped actually fighting dragons.”
“I know,” Ruff agreed. “Rude.”
Astrid waved them quiet. “Ready.”
They pulled the helmet back.
“Hold.”
The Stingers advanced.
“Loose!”
Rocks.
Hissing.
Retreat.
Tuff, Ruff, and Astrid moved the sling back by their paralyzed dragons, out of the way. It was close combat now. War. Any minute, those Stingers would come back down the path and find them open to attack at last.
Tuff wiped the sweat off his hands, grabbed his mace.
“Shield wall,” Astrid commanded.
The three of them held their shields in their left hands and stood shoulder-to-shoulder along the width of the path, readying their weapons on their right. The tight wall of wood and metal would allow them to stand against the Stingers longer. But Tuff held no illusions about the outcome of this fight; they were outnumbered, overpowered, and unprepared.
Tuff exchanged glances with his sister, and understanding passed between them. They would go out together, and they would go down hard.
“Loki!” Tuff clanged his mace against his shield, relishing the way the impact reverberated up his arm. “Let me claim five enemies before I go!”
“Loki!” Ruff cried. Another jolt of iron on wood. “Put ten enemies under my feet!”
Tuff and Ruff looked to Astrid, whose grim smile was sharp. Ferocity edged her features, burned from beneath her skin.
“We’ll go as Vikings should,” she said. “We might even be able to stop the Stingers from getting to our dragons. They’re only getting Stormfly if they go through me first.”
“For Barf and Belch!” Ruff yelled.
“Yeah!” Tuff drummed his mace on his shield again, and when he stopped, the silence filled with draconic trills. The Stingers were advancing again.
“The All-father smiles on deaths like ours,” Astrid said. “I’ll see you two in Valhalla when this is over.”
Valhalla. Tuff fancied he could hear the roar of the feasting halls even now.
An idea occurred to him. “Do you think that’s where Hiccup is?”
The Stingers edged closer, testing their limits, meeting no defenses this time.
Ruff shook her head. “I don’t know, that doesn’t sound right to me somehow.”
They looked to Astrid.
“Either way”—Astrid twirled her axe—“we’re about to find out.”
A Stinger shrieked; their forces thundered down the path.
“Hold the line for as long as you can,” Astrid reminded them as they tightened their wall. “Once they break through, they’ll pick us off fast.” She braced against her shield in preparation for the impact, and Tuff and Ruff followed suit. “For Berk!” she screamed.
“FOR BERK!”
The first wave of Stingers jumped the break in the path, then slammed into their shield wall.
Tuff was glad he’d braced, or their wall might’ve broken immediately. As it was, his boots slid back a few inches on the gritty rock face, but he renewed his efforts and kept the right edge of his shield tight against the left edge of Ruff’s.
“Forward, forward!” Astrid chanted, her yell almost lost beneath the cacophony of snarling and spitting. “To the breach!” She pounded a steady beat against her shield, and Tuff and Ruff did the same, marching in time to the drums of war. Blood roared in Tuff’s ears. His panted breaths parched the back of his throat.
They were gaining ground, slowly but steadily pushing a group of Stingers back toward the gap in the path. Claws and stingers thunked futilely against the wood of their shields. As Tuff, Ruff, and Astrid marched, they could feel the resistance ebb; dragons at the rear of the advancing party were starting to fall to the water below.
“Yeah!” Tuff yelled, a wild hope sparking in his chest, and he lurched ahead in a moment of light-headed fervor—but he’d lost the beat.
Too late, he tried to fall back in step with the others, but the slimmest of cracks had opened in their wall, and a blood-red barb darted in and out in the space of a single heartbeat.
Tuff met eyes with Ruff, too stricken to make a sound, as his sister’s skin muted to gray and her look of surprise solidified to stone.
Their wall buckled, and with it, their last line of defense snapped.
Chapter 15: The Bitter End
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Like Gothi casting her runes, Astrid could glimpse the future: This was the end.
Ruff was fully frozen with her shield extended against the onslaught of Speed Stingers, a statue of Viking defiance in the face of death. On her other side, Tuff gave way, their shield wall folding like dragon’s wings as Stingers’ bodies—scaly, warm, smelling of blood and rot—pressed against them in a relentless advance.
Here, now—this was it.
And Astrid would go down swinging.
With a wild yell of rage and grief—she loved this life, how dare they pry it from her—she barreled into the pack of Stingers, driving more of them off the edge of the path. She dodged two stingers, hacked at open jaws with her axe, then embedded the blade in the flank of a Stinger that was ripping into Tuffnut’s shield. Blood surged through her veins—alive, alive, until the bitter end.
Another barb flicked at her.
Dodge.
Dodge.
Hack.
Slash.
Scream—
Astrid stopped mid-swing, her body reacting before her mind caught up.
The attacking Stingers paused, too, eyes turning to the night sky.
A new sound.
A familiar sound.
Astrid’s stomach jolted, as if she were falling from a great height. Goosebumps erupted across her forearms. Hope, impossible hope, took the breath from her lungs.
A high-pitched whistle was building in the darkness.
The space to her left exploded in a shower of purple-white light. Stingers scrambled away, bits of rock flew, and wisps of Astrid’s hair fluttered in the warm gust, but Astrid didn’t move, entirely confident in Toothless’s aim. Entirely sure that now, they were safe.
They were all safe.
Relief made her weak at the knees; she stumbled back with a breathless laugh.
Tuffnut emerged from the rubble of his broken shield, a claw mark down one side of his face, shining red in the moonlight. “YEAH!” he yelled, pumping a fist in triumph.
Astrid joined in with his cheers as Toothless fired a few more blasts and the remaining Stingers fled. “Yes!” She and Tuff were jumping up and down, flushed with ecstasy, trying and mostly failing to follow Toothless’s path through the night sky, the draconic form that blocked out the stars.
Had she ever been happier than this moment right here?
“Hiccup!” she cried, waving her arms to flag him down.
Tuffnut wedged his mace into the arms of his temporarily paralyzed sister, then waved too. “Hey! We were supposed to rescue you! No fair!”
Wings flapped somewhere in the dark.
“There!” Astrid nudged Tuffnut and pointed at the pitch black shape that was drawing nearer—Toothless coming in with a slow dive. “Hiccup! Thank the gods! Are you—?”
Astrid stopped. Speech abandoned her. Beside her, Tuff fell still and silent.
They could see Toothless now—and only Toothless.
“Wait…” Tuff said.
Astrid blinked, uncomprehending, as Toothless swooped past them with a long glance in their direction. Moonlight streaked over an empty saddle. Then his tail fin clicked—automatic—and he vanished into the surrounding night.
Astrid huffed a breath as if she’d been kicked in the gut.
“Wait,” Tuff said again, shaking his head. “That can’t be right.”
But it was.
They had seen it.
She fell to her knees. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered, but she was lying to herself. Hot tears had already begun spilling down her cheeks. Hiccup had been gone too long. She’d started to expect this, in the darkest recesses of her mind.
Tuffnut staggered, dropped to his knees beside Astrid. “Maybe,” he started, his voice trembling. He didn’t finish.
Toothless, without Hiccup? There was only one explanation.
Astrid took an involuntary gasp of breath and sobbed. She tilted into Tuff, who held her and said nothing while her heart shredded itself into pieces.
What had she been doing when it happened? Pummeling that Dragon Hunter’s face in the hold of that ship, relishing the way her knuckles split on his teeth? Frantically putting out that fire in the tunnels while Krogan made his escape? Or had she been sitting on the landing strip at Dragon’s Edge, watching the sunset and wondering, when Hiccup had breathed his last?
How long had she lived without realizing her world had already dropped out from under her?
Seven days or seven seconds, she supposed it didn’t make a difference in the end.
Too late was the only length of time that mattered.
She had been too late.
And Toothless flew alone.
Hiccup tightened his grip on Snotlout’s shoulder and leaned forward in the saddle, straining his neck for a better view around his cousin’s broad frame. Toothless flew just ahead of them, guiding Hookfang and his passengers back to the island, back to Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Astrid.
Gods, he’d missed them.
And Thor, how he’d missed her.
Eagerness and anxiety churned in Hiccup’s stomach. Toothless’s demeanor had indicated that things had gone well, that everyone was at least more or less alright, but until they could see the others for themselves, the details of their situation were anyone’s guess.
The form of the island grew larger against the backdrop of the sea. Toothless tucked his wings slightly and dropped into a gradual dive around the westernmost edge of the island.
Hookfang followed suit, in a steeper and clumsier dive that jarred Hiccup and Snotlout. Hiccup held in a wince, but Snotlout must have felt him tense; he patted Hookfang’s side.
“Easy, Hooky,” Snotlout said, and their ride smoothed out.
Up ahead, Toothless was coasting toward the edge of the island—rocky cliffs that jutted almost straight up from the ocean. The slanting moonlight outlined fissures and fractures in the crag, the rock face an eerie maze of black and white.
Hiccup traced Toothless’s trajectory forward, and his breath caught. “There! On that ledge!”
“I see them!” Snotlout whistled low. “Doesn’t look good.”
The misshapen silhouettes of Barf and Belch and Stormfly were immediately obvious—and clearly immobile. Where the ledge slimmed to a narrow path, there was a human figure, still equipped with a shield, equally unmoving.
“Looks like they got one of the twins,” Hiccup said.
Two more figures were kneeling side-by-side on the path, facing the ocean. Were they moving at all?
Hookfang rumbled uneasily as they approached. One of the kneeling figures turned a helmeted head.
“Look, Toothless is back!” Tuffnut’s voice, raw and ragged, drifted up on the wind. “And he brought Snotlout!”
Toothless and Hookfang slowed to hover beside the rocky path.
“Yeah,” Hiccup said, grinning, “and he brought someone else, too!”
Tuffnut’s mouth dropped open. Astrid, kneeling beside him, finally looked up.
A wave of emotion broke over Hiccup as he looked at her—here, with him, for real. Relief melted the tension from his shoulders and warmth flared in his chest. The utter completeness of the moment—returning to hearth and home after an odyssey—overwhelmed him, drowning his power of speech.
Astrid stared, wide-eyed, tear tracks gleaming on her face in the moonlight. She breathed his name like a prayer. “Hiccup?”
“Astr—“
She launched herself onto Hookfang and pressed her lips into Hiccup’s.
He sank into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her, fingers tightening on the fabric of her shirt. Astrid pulled him in deeper with an elbow crooked around the nape of his neck; her other hand clutched a tuft of his hair. This—this was like flying, like the wind carding through his hair, like the sensation of weightlessness in the middle of a free fall.
Astrid pulled back to study him, holding him at arm’s length, a fresh tear spilling from the corner of one eye. Her smile was a fragile thing—uncertain, like the first wobbling steps of a baby dragon. Her hands trembled in Hiccup’s.
“I saw Toothless, alone,” she whispered, “and I thought—I thought—“
Understanding hit, followed closely by a jab of guilt. “Oh,” Hiccup said. “Oh, Astrid, I’m so sorry—we didn’t mean to scare you guys…” He glanced at Tuff, who, he now noticed, looked shaken too.
“It doesn’t matter,” Astrid said, shaking her head. “You’re here now.” She interlaced her fingers with his and searched his face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” he said, just as Snotlout said, “No!”
Hiccup gave an annoyed growl and shot Snotlout a glare before turning back to Astrid. “I—well, let’s just say it wasn’t the relaxing break we were hoping for,” he hedged. Snotlout snorted. “And I’m a little worse for the wear, I guess, but”—he grasped Astrid’s hands tighter—“I’ll be alright, I promise. I just need a few days.”
Astrid let out a big sigh, part relief, part resignation, and pulled him into a gentle hug. “Eventually, you’re gonna have to tell us all what happened—but not tonight. You need rest. We all do.”
“And now we actually can rest,” said Snotlout, frustration clipping his words, “since we’re finally not all in danger at the same time.”
“Well, mostly.” Tuffnut nodded at the paralyzed Ruff, Barf and Belch, and Stormfly. “We should probably still get off the island of vicious Speed Stingers, though.”
“Hell yeah,” Snotlout said. “This island blows.”
Caldera Cay was distinctly beautiful in the early morning, a gray-green silhouette against a canvas of blush pink and warm orange clouds. Fishlegs let out a long, slow breath as Meatlug adjusted her course in the cool sea air, headed straight for Defenders of the Wing Island.
Astrid’s message ran through Fishlegs’s mind on repeat, a mantra: Hiccup safe. Everyone alive. Come to Defenders of the Wing.
Safe and alive. That was all they could ask for, wasn’t it?
With a tinge of anxiety coloring his sense of relief, Fishlegs patted Meatlug and gestured to the edge of town, where Barf and Belch, Stormfly, and Hookfang were easily visible lounging near the tree line. Not far from the dragons was a small hut—stone and wood, sturdy—and an unlit fire pit out front. Benches were arranged in a circle around the fire pit.
Fishlegs directed Meatlug to land beside the other dragons, then jogged to the pit. Snotlout was sprawled on his back across one of the benches, snoring. On another, Tuffnut was messing with his sister, who looked stiff and oddly… glossy? Fishlegs did a double-take at the dragons, and noticed the same waxy look on Barf and Belch and Stormfly.
He gulped. Speed Stingers.
“Hey,” Tuff said when he spotted Fishlegs, giving him a casual nod. Something had clawed one side of his face, the skin starting to ripple around the newly healing wound.
Fishlegs grimaced sympathetically, but Tuff seemed alright otherwise. Ruff was starting to gain some movement back, it seemed, as were the dragons. A cursory glance at Snotlout—fine too.
Rising anxiousness made Fishlegs weightless. He turned back to Tuffnut clumsily, like gravity had abandoned him. “Where is he?”
Tuff didn’t need clarification. He wrenched his sister’s arm with an unpleasant cracking sound, and she pointed involuntarily to the hut.
Heart thrumming, Fishlegs ran.
He burst through the door into a dim and quiet room. Small sounds filled the hushed space while he blinked the daylight from his eyes—fire crackling, the soft breathing of a sleeping dragon, a subtle shift of fabric.
When his eyes adjusted, he saw Astrid watching him, a finger over her lips to signal for quiet. She was curled up in a big wooden chair at the far end of the hut, a wool blanket draped over her front. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and strands of her hair stuck up at odd angles like stalks of hay, but she looked calm. At peace.
It was this, more than anything, that got Fishlegs’s lungs working again. He let out a quiet breath and moved toward her in silence.
A long fire pit took up the center of the hut, the flames warming the room to a sleepy temperature. The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the aroma of something hearty and tantalizing—some kind of soup simmering in the cauldron that hung over the fire. Just beyond the hearth, the edge of a bed was visible; Astrid nodded to it with a reassuring smile.
Crinkling the edge of his tunic in his sweaty grip, Fishlegs rounded the corner of the hearth and stopped beside Astrid.
There, at last. Hiccup.
Fishlegs whispered a prayer of gratitude and drank the sight in like mead, the back of his throat burning, an odd sort of lightness in his head. Hiccup was sleeping soundly, features smooth and undisturbed, blankets tucked around his slender form. Toothless was sprawled on the floor to the right of the bed, sleeping just as deeply.
Alive.
Safe.
After all this time.
Fishlegs gave Astrid a shaky smile. “It’s good to see him,” he said softly. “Both of them.”
Astrid nodded. She settled back in her chair, leaning to one side and resting her chin on her palm. She watched Hiccup the way one watches the sun setting over the ocean, the stars pricking through the fabric of the sky at dusk. Fishlegs imagined she’d passed what was left of the night this way, keeping vigil.
“So,” he whispered, easing to the floor beside her, “what happened?”
“Snotlout has all the details, or most of them; he said he’d tell us after you got here so he didn’t have to keep repeating himself. Plus, he was dead tired—we all were. The gist of it, though, is two crash landings, two new islands, Speed Stingers, and—to quote Snotlout—a ‘creepy village of death,’ whatever that means.”
Fishlegs huffed. “Hiccup doesn’t do things by halves, does he?” Then he sobered, watching Hiccup’s still form. He didn’t want to ask the next question. Or, rather, he feared the answer. He swallowed. “And the damage?”
“Bruised ribs and this weird burn mark on his side are the main things, injury-wise. But apparently, he was sick most of the time.”
“Sick?” It wasn’t what he’d expected from two crash landings.
“Mhmm. Whatever it was, it passed, but…” Astrid’s voice wavered and she stopped abruptly. She cleared her throat before resuming. “It must’ve been bad. He lost a lot of weight; you can see the outline of his bones in places.”
Fishlegs blanched at the mental image.
“And he was exhausted, worse than I’ve ever seen.” She let out a long breath. “But he made it through, thank the gods. He just needs rest.”
“Yeah, okay. Rest.” He couldn’t keep the tremble out of his voice, couldn’t stop the sudden chill that gathered at the base of his neck. As he watched Hiccup sleep, an old fear dredged its way to the surface of Fishlegs’s mind. He chided himself and tried to push the thought back into the murky depths of the past.
Astrid shifted in her chair. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, nothing. It’s stupid.”
“What?”
“It’s childish.”
Astrid leaned over the arm of the chair to frown at him. “Come on, Fishlegs. I’m not Snotlout; I won’t make fun of you for it.” She nudged him with her foot. “Talk to me.”
He sighed and looked away, into the flames, the shifting, unpredictable patterns of red and orange. “You remember when Hiccup lost his leg, how long he was down? How we’d all take turns visiting, sitting there with Stoick and Toothless, or Gobber, or Gothi, and just waiting?”
“I remember.” Her voice was low, weighed down with the memory.
The fire spit a cloud of embers that whirled in the updraft, then winked out one by one.
“It kind of haunted me,” Fishlegs said. He dropped his gaze, picked at a pine needle that had wedged itself into the tread of one of his boots. “After Hiccup was better and we all started hanging out more, doing dragon training and all that, there was a night where we all slept in the Academy together. It was the first time since making peace with the dragons. And in the morning, I got up pretty early. You were already awake, I think, but Hiccup was still asleep. And I looked at him, and this stupid thought just hit me: What if he doesn’t wake up?” He scoffed at the notion, unconvincingly.
He chanced a glance at Astrid. She wasn’t laughing. Sorrow lengthened her face, pulled her shoulders into a heavy stoop. Her sincerity cut him, and the rest of the story bled out.
“For a while, I was afraid to be around Hiccup when he was asleep. Every time I saw him like that, that what if nagged at me. It was really unsettling. But we spent more and more time together, and sleeping around each other was unavoidable, and so that fear just… decayed, over time.” He shrugged. “I’d forgotten about it, actually. But for some reason, just now, I can’t relax when—“ He forced himself to look at Hiccup, and the thought loomed again; Fishlegs was cold in its shadow.
“I never knew that,” Astrid said after a few solemn moments had passed.
“I never told anyone. Hiccup doesn’t know, either. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing, Fishlegs. That was a rough time. It stuck with all of us, in different ways.” She leaned over to squeeze his shoulder, a comforting gesture. “Hey. He’s gonna be okay, though. He promised me.” She smiled. “And if you’re still worried, you can always look at Toothless.”
Toothless had shifted during the course of their talk. Now, he was curled upside-down, his belly facing the ceiling, pink tongue hanging from his partly-open mouth.
Fishlegs laughed softly.
“See?” Astrid said. “He would not be that relaxed if something was really wrong with Hiccup. You know he’d be right at his bedside, fretting.”
Fishlegs brightened. “You make a good point.”
They settled into a comfortable silence, and as he watched Hiccup, his unease abated. Hiccup didn’t look particularly strong or healthy, sure, but his breathing was deep and rhythmic, his expression smooth in dreamful bliss. It was probably the best sleep he’d had in days.
The warmth of the room and the sense of peace in the air started to pull Fishlegs’s eyelids down. He’d get to have the best sleep in days tonight too. He imagined they’d sleep here, to give Hiccup more time to rest before traveling back to the Edge. All of them piled into the room, sleeping around the hearth. Safety in numbers. Comfort in togetherness.
The sound of raised voices snapped Fishlegs back to attention, and he jerked up; he’d been nodding off against the side of Astrid’s chair. Tuffnut and Snotlout’s voices carried through the door.
Toothless rolled over again with a little grumble of protest, his ear plates twitching.
Hiccup shifted in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Yet the slight movement was enough the quell the remainder of Fishlegs’s worries.
He stood. “I’ll tell them to be quiet.”
“Wait.” Astrid stood too, stretching. “I’ll come with you. I want to hear Snotlout’s story.” She gathered up her blanket, then draped it across the foot of Hiccup’s bed. Then she hesitated, a hand outstretched toward Hiccup, and Fishlegs could read her warring desires in her movements: wanting to touch Hiccup, but not wanting to wake him. After a moment, she settled on moving a lock of hair out of his face, then she stepped back and motioned to the door.
Toothless opened an eye as they passed, keeping track of their comings and goings.
“Thanks, Toothless,” Astrid whispered as she opened the door.
Fishlegs closed the door behind them on Toothless’s answering warble.
Outside, it was brighter, the warm light of the sunrise sharpening to a clear golden glow. Birds sang from the surrounding forest. A breeze swept in from the east.
Around the fire pit, Tuffnut was half-yelling, “Pleaseeeeeeee—“
“Shhh!” Astrid hurried over and waved a threatening finger in Tuff’s face. “If you wake up Hiccup, I swear…”
“Snotlout promised he’d tell us what happened when Fishlegs got here, and there’s Fishlegs right there!” Tuff used Ruffnut’s arm again to point.
Ruff contributed four syllables of nonsense through paralyzed lips.
“She says she sees him too,” Tuff translated.
Astrid rolled her eyes. “No one is trying to deny Fishlegs’s presence.”
“Well, he’s not holding up his end of the deal!” Tuff jerked his sister’s arm at Snotlout.
“Okay, okay!” Snotlout threw up his hands. “Gods! Did you have to wake me up right when Fishlegs got here? Excuse me for trying to sleep like a normal human being. I don’t look this good just by magic, okay?”
Ruff made irritable noises again.
“She says you can sleep when you’re dead!”
“Will you guys please just keep it down?” Fishlegs hissed. He took a seat on a bench beside the twins. “C’mon, Snotlout. Tell us—quietly.”
Snotlout huffed. “Fine. Just know that I’m still tired, so you’re all robbing yourselves of my peak storytelling artistry—“
“Snotlout,” Astrid growled.
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying.” Then he gave a long sigh, scrubbed a hand over his face, and began. “I learned all of this out of order, but here’s how it went down for Hiccup and Toothless. Their first of many disasters was encountering the Speed Stingers…”
Hiccup woke slowly, as if floating up through several layers of awareness. He registered the crackling of flames first, and his mind supplied an image: Gobber’s forge on Berk. He must have fallen asleep in his upstairs workshop, puzzling over a saddle for Toothless—something that would allow him to control the movements of the prosthetic tail—
Toothless.
Toothless was here too, his breathing audible.
What was Toothless doing in Gobber’s forge?
Confusion propelled him through the last few layers of semi-consciousness and he sat up, head swirling. Blankets peeled off him and piled in his lap. “What the—?”
Toothless was beside him in a heartbeat, sticking his face into Hiccup’s with a happy warble. His breath smelled like fish.
Hiccup laughed. “Hey, bud,” he said, hugging his dragon. He blinked at the unfamiliar room around him while his mind cleared, the odd haze of dream and memory burning away like the morning fog.
What was the last thing he remembered? He’d been so exhausted that it all blurred together, the last several hours more a patchwork of impressions than a coherent string of events: Snotlout, wrapping bandages around Hiccup’s torso with a scowl, a campfire blazing in the background. I don’t want them thinking I’ve gone soft. Stormfly, rigid with Speed Stinger venom, swinging on a rope tied to Hookfang. Astrid, sitting criss-cross in a large wooden chair, poking at a bowl of soup. A line of red on Tuffnut’s face. Moss on a sea stack, soft and damp beneath him. Astrid’s hand on his face, the moon a halo around her. Get some sleep.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter. “Defenders of the Wing?”
Toothless gave a pleased little roar.
Hiccup smiled and turned to get out of bed.
Toothless intervened.
“This again, bud?” Hiccup asked, more affectionate than annoyed. He scratched under his dragon’s chin. “I just want a little change of scenery, okay?” He could hear the distant sound of his friends’ voices, achingly familiar and sorely missed. He wanted to be there; he wanted to be in that. Besides, the mixture of heavy sleep and fragmented memory left him feeling detached. The world was surreal, uncertain. He wanted to feel the earth beneath him, the warmth of the sun on his skin. “I promise I’ll take it easy, Toothless.”
With a quiet grumble, his dragon relented, moving back to watch Hiccup stand, then accompanying him to the door. Hiccup opened it and blinked at the daylight. Fresh air curled around him, cool and invigorating. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath—grass, pine, woodsmoke, sea salt. Nearby, Snotlout was talking at length.
Hiccup headed for the collection of benches ringing an unlit fire pit in front of him. Snotlout, Astrid, Fishlegs, Ruff, and Tuff were all seated there. Snotlout was gesturing in deep, animated discussion, while the others listened in rapt attention.
“…actually worked!” Snotlout was saying. “Can you believe it? It wasn’t long after that when Hookfang and I found the island, and we met Hiccup in the old village square. He told me about all that craziness, so you can see why I forgot to send a Terror—“ He broke off when he saw Hiccup, his mouth hanging open for a second in surprise. “Hiccup!”
The others turned.
“Hiccup!” Tuff yelled, spinning his sister around to face the same direction, and kicking Fishlegs in the process. “You poisoned yourself on accident, and then on purpose?!” He wore an awed expression that, frankly, made Hiccup uncomfortable.
“Snotlout,” Hiccup chided, frowning. “I thought we agreed not to tell the twins about that.”
“Oops.” Snotlout didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
Fishlegs was looking as gobsmacked as Tuffnut, his hands on either side of his helmet. “Oooo! Hiccup! Do you understand the implications of this? This could revolutionize the way we approach healing—“ He sputtered, overcome for a moment with academic excitement and the flood of ideas doubtlessly streaming through his mind, then squeaked, “I need to write this down!” He lunged for Meatlug’s saddlebag.
Astrid was the least excited. In fact, she looked uncharacteristically small, her shoulders slumped, one arm hooked around herself in a gesture of self-comfort. Her eyes, wide and hurt, did not leave Hiccup. After a moment, she cleared her throat and composed herself. “What are you doing up?” she asked him softly. Then, firmer: “Did this muttonhead wake you up?” She jerked her head in Snotlout’s direction.
“No, no,” he said, waving Astrid’s ire down. Behind her, Snotlout mouthed, Thank you. “I just got up on my own and wanted to get some fresh air for a bit.”
Astrid glanced at Toothless, who was hovering loosely behind Hiccup, then shrugged. “Okay. Want to walk with me?” She indicated a grassy knoll off to their left.
Hiccup grinned. “Please.”
She smiled and walked toward him. At the last second, instead of falling into step beside him, she engulfed him in a hug.
He melted into her embrace.
“How close was it?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
He recalled the herculean effort each breath took, the uncontrollable tremble in his hands as he lifted the vial of poison to his lips. Toothless’s scales, familiar and warm beneath his fingertips. Love you, bud. Glad you’re with me. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Close.”
She tightened her grip on him—still mindful of his injuries, the gods bless her—and buried her face into the crook of his neck. He responded in kind, encircling his arms around her waist, gratitude smoldering in his heart. Thank Odin he was alive to have this moment.
They separated reluctantly, their hands still hooked together, and wended their way up the gentle incline. Toothless rushed ahead of them, then rolled happily in the grass, purring. Hiccup and Astrid lay down in it too, the lush blades soft and cool beneath them.
Astrid squirmed into position just behind Hiccup, so that he was half resting on her.
Her fingers found his hair.
He felt the gentle pull of her braiding.
“I’m sorry your relaxing break turned into such a nightmare,” she said. “For you, for all of us.”
Hiccup could read her worry in the tone of her voice, the quick, antsy style of her braiding. But just now, he could think of nothing but the feel of her fingers in his hair, the sun blanketing the two of them in gold. Toothless’s low purrs hanging in the sea-kissed air. Tuffnut and Snotlout laughing somewhere below.
The trials of the past week were trifles compared to the exuberance of an existence like this. Hiccup couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
He reached up to twine his fingers around Astrid’s. “Ah,” he said, “it could’ve been worse.”
Notes:
And that's all, folks! Thanks so much for reading, and especially for any kudos or comments you might've left in appreciation! I hope you all had as much fun reading as I did writing.
Thanks again, and until next time, may you have all the best adventures!
Catch ya later,
who is sabrina
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Destinyandchicken11 on Chapter 1 Wed 17 Jun 2020 11:20PM UTC
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Last Edited Mon 21 Dec 2020 07:41PM UTC
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