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It was a quiet night on Berk, one long awaited after weeks of raging storms. The only upside of the everlasting darkness was the lack of usual inconveniences – dragons. Astrid was sitting in her bedroom by the window, watching the cloudless sky, where stars slowly appeared, one after another.
She focused on the brightest star, thinking of nothing in particular but enjoying the cool air. The bright star seemed closer tonight, almost as if it were moving towards her. As a child she used to love the stars but as the years passed and she realised she would never reach them, the admiration turned pointless. But tonight it felt like the childish dream to fly among the stars returned to her and made her climb from the window to the rooftop of their house. As she watched the sky, the inkling of something about to happen grew. It must have been a trick of the eye, but one star really seemed to be getting closer and closer. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. The scorching star was dwindling towards the earth. It couldn’t have been just a shooting star in the distance, no, it crashed so close, it looked like it fell on Berk. Could it be? Was it even a star? But what else could have fallen so rapidly? Not a dragon, for sure, there was no sound of a screech and no way that any dragon would attack them during the storm season.
Astrid was encompassed in an urge to check out the forest, not expecting to find anything, but to make sure that it was just a trick of the lights. She would go in the morning, she decided.
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Astrid was trekking in the woods, swinging her axe in hand, and practising a new trick she saw her mother do. The clouds were back, obscuring the sun, as was expected. There was nothing out of ordinary in the woods, just as she predicted, even though a quiet voice in her head hoped otherwise. The silly tales of shooting stars got to her. She laughed at herself, throwing the axe at a tree with perfect precision. No time for fables, she had better get on with her exercises.
As she wrenched the weapon from the tree, there was a sound in the air. She did a quick check to see there was no one around. And yet, another sound, resembling a laugh or… a roar? Surely, it must have been someone from the village, probably here to train as well. But… what if?
She strolled towards the sound. As she got closer, she could distinguish a human voice. It would only be a quick check, to ease her mind. With that thought she reached a clearing that was a deep cove. How come she had never seen it before? She leaned from behind a big rock to peek inside and gasped. In the middle stood a huge figure, a spot of red and black mixed together, almost like a… dragon?! She immediately ducked, breathing heavily, trying to slow her heart down. It was quiet again, not a sound that a dragon would make if there was one in the first place. It must have been a trick of light or her imagination running wild. Even if, it didn’t stop her from gripping her axe tighter. She needed to double check, hopefully whatever it was, it hadn’t spotted her.
The second time she looked, the tension dissolved and turned into confusion. There was something indeed, someone, a man standing in the middle of the cove by himself. He was clad in black, tall but thin and he looked young, perhaps slightly older than her. His hands were fumbling – was he talking to himself? She did not recognise the man, perhaps a relative of one of the villagers. A traveller? In the woods far away from the village? Astrid had the strangest feeling of unease, that there was something shifty going on. Who was he? Unless… she did see something falling from the sky yesterday but… no, that would be ridiculous.
Before she decided whether to approach or get help (she was a great fighter, but common sense was telling her not to engage) the stranger turned and looked straight at her. There was no doubt he had noticed her, his expression puzzled but intent. Astrid was frozen in her spot, unable to back away. She met his eyes cautiously. A moment later she was shocked again when he spoke. ‘Hello,’ he said with a little wave. His voice was carried well by the water in the cove.
“Hello,” she replied. Then, without thinking, she blurted, “Who are you?”
He continued to study her, his eyes flickering around the area, but then he sent her a sort of sheepish smile. She did not trust it one bit. “I must have got lost in the sea. I assume it was the storm that led me off-track. I would kindly appreciate it if you told me where we are.”
“If you’re a traveller than where is your boat? Or crew?” She let the suspicion drip into her tone.
“Wouldn’t I like to know. I must admit, I don’t know what brought me onto this island. The last thing I remember is the rainstorm and the next thing I know is I woke up here.”
Sceptical as she was, he did seem confused even though she was unnerved by how his eyes barely left her. As if he were the one that should be wary. Still, there was only one course of action for her to take.
“If you are telling the truth, I believe our chief might listen to your story and aid your… situation.” He nodded eagerly. “Well, then, if you will…” She gestured between them as a beckoning sign. He looked around himself, as if he had any belongings to collect (which he didn’t) and moved towards the cliff beneath her.
Once he had climbed to the top, he stood a few metres away from her, sweeping dust from his clothes. From up close she noticed one of his legs was a metal prosthetic, more advanced than the wooden limb-replacements she would see on Berk. He looked older than she had assumed, although his manner of speaking already betrayed his maturity. He had brown hair that flew freely in the wind, reaching the middle of his neck. The oddest part was his armour, it reminded her of scales, and it did not look convenient for sailing with all the elements sewn in. He wasn’t muscled in the way most vikings were, rather skinny for his height which presented an image of mild danger, even feebleness. In an instant Astrid was reminded of one of the first rules in combat, or in life perhaps, to never underestimate your opponent based on first impressions. The easiest way to get yourself stupidly defeated.
He lifted his head, and she was once again met with his attentive gaze and wide smile. Almost as if he weren’t stranded on an unknown island, and that caused Astrid’s skin to prickle. Was he playing her or was he just a fool, oblivious to the situation?
“Shall we go?” He tilted his head. “Pardon, but I haven’t caught your name.” Damn, she should have asked that first. She did not want to give him her name. But he was on her island, and she’d be damned if she turned away from a confrontation.
“Astrid.” Her grip on her axe tightened as she observed his reaction, eyes going wide, lips parting as he inhaled sharply. Where the hell did that come from? “And you are?” Her voice was no longer neutral, not concealing her discontent with the weird newcomer.
He hesitated for a second before switching back to his unperturbed pose. His smile gave him away, more of a grimace, really. “Harold. Harry.” He extended his hand which she tentatively grabbed.
“Harry,” she repeated. “Welcome to Berk.”
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Hiccup had never imagined that hearing the sentence “Welcome to Berk” would fill him with so much dread. Without further conversation, Astrid started walking and Hiccup followed right behind. She was striding resolutely through the trees but kept peeking through her shoulder at him. He understood the distrust, he wouldn’t have any reason to trust her either. That is, if she wasn’t, well, Astrid.
The daunting thing was that she did look like Astrid, with the blond hair and little skulls on her dress. She had the same untamed fire in her eyes, held her head high and manoeuvred her axe like an extension of her arm. Definitely Astrid. The only problem was that, due to some meddling from the gods, it was Astrid from years ago, five or six in the past, he guessed.
So here they were, Hiccup at the age of twenty-one, the chief of Berk, or at least a Berk, and young Astrid who did not recognise him, regarded him with the utmost suspicion, and who had just announced that they were on Berk, as if Hiccup’s world weren’t spun upside down at the revelation.
Once she introduced herself, his mind started offering possible explanations of the situation, but he couldn’t settle on any that wouldn’t indicate he had gone crazy. He had seen his share of unexplainable things in the world, but there was no way that time travel was real. It must be a dream, a weirdly solid one, but a dream, nonetheless.
Out of habit, he introduced himself with his incognito name, and he couldn’t be more glad about that. It had been useful on several missions, as his real name became vastly recognisable around the archipelago. Instead of going undercover with a new made-up story all the time, he built himself a sort of alter ego that would help keep his story credible. It also developed into a running joke, led on by Snotlout and Tuffnut, about a guy named Harry who was responsible for all their mistakes and bad decisions. Thus, it was not Snotlout who blew up the latest improvement to Berk’s defences, obviously it had been the mysterious Harold the Elusive who appeared out of nowhere to wreak havoc. Just as it was not the twins who were responsible for the delay in food shipments, because Harold the Elusive crossed their way, then slipped into the shadows laughing maniacally.
Hiccup smiled at the thought of his friends, although the fondness was obscured by his current predicament. If this truly was some weird version of Berk, then where were the others? How did he even get here, and why? He had told Astrid the truth, he really had no recollection of how he got to the cove or what happened that had thrown him into the storm. Had he been travelling, it would not have been by ship which led him to the most dreadful thought: where was Toothless? Was he safe, or stranded somewhere? Did he get thrown into this world as well? The uncertainty was taxing on his brain, but he had to stomach it until he could find out more.
Before Astrid found him, he had been about to ask the local dragons to look for Toothless. There was a pair of Scuttleclaws lounging about when he woke up and they trusted him easily. Before he could communicate with them though, they were interrupted. The dragons heard a newcomer before him and fled into the cave before he managed to ask anything. Thankfully their reaction had warned him of the incoming threat. Well, the threat was a young version of his lovely partner but still better to not be caught fully off guard.
He decided to assess the situation in the village, figure out where he stood. Then he would sneak away to the dragons. Gods, if this really was Berk from a few years ago, then… the dragon raids, the sturdy people, and the chief… It wouldn’t do well to draw conclusions based on doubts and questions. There must be a reasonable explanation to all of this, right? Surely, he wouldn’t be confronted with his father or… dammit, his younger self.
As trepidation filled his head, they reached the end of the woods and stepped into the village. And the view was more unsettling than he could have imagined. It was the same durable Berk from his past, where most buildings were new, his fire-preventing inventions inexistent yet. And no dragon in sight, though there was a sickening number of weapons stacked beside the houses for easy access. Of course, it could not have been easy, could it?
They walked through the village, not passing many people as it was a rather vile time to be outside due to the weather. Hiccup was looking to Astrid for directions, projecting the picture of a clueless stranger, never mind that he could tread these streets with his eyes closed. Berk seemed so different to what Hiccup had come to call home. Under different circumstances it would have been exciting to compare the future to the past but in that moment every alteration unnerved him and brought unwelcome questions. One of them was relentlessly echoing in his head, “How to get back to his Berk?” that remained unanswered.
Astrid was trotting in step with him, thus he allowed himself to observe her. It was bizarre to see her like this, with no sign of recognition in her eyes. Her hair was braided as usual, and her steps were confident. He always admired her strength and cool head, and to see it at such a young age… he couldn’t help but admire her even more.
The Great Hall loomed over the village, a constant reminder of who they were at heart. The wooden entrance was covered in carvings, presenting symbols and swirls, displaying the duality between humans and nature. The two giant statues guarding the door were a fusion of vikings and gods. They used to scare Hiccup, as if they would come alive and take him away for not being a ‘proper viking’. Ah, yes, the old times.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the great hall, in the square stood a familiar figure, distinguishable from afar by the wooden peg leg and wild gesticulation. He was standing with his back to them, chatting with a woman who surely had better things to do. Well, at least some things don’t change.
“Gobber,” Astrid called. The man in question turned around and the lady took her leave.
"Hullo, Astrid," he smiled at her and squinted at the newcomer. “And who is the new lad?”
Hiccup extended his hand, there’s no use being discourteous, right? “Harold. It appears I have crashed on your island during my travels.”
“I found him in the woods, in the cove down west. Claims he doesn’t know how he got there,” Astrid’s steel-like voice worked like a bucket of cold water. Not even Gobber recognised him, which smashed the last tiny thread of hope that it was all a weird dream. He truly was at their mercy.
“Aye, the storm does twist the mind, isn’t that right, lad? I suppose you’re goin’ to the chief now. I bet he’ll find a way to help you.” He put his hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. A fraction of his concerns lifted at this display of kindness.
“Thank you,” he returned the smile Gobber granted him.
Behind him, Astrid projected the exact opposite of Gobber’s welcoming appearance. Her arms were crossed as she glared at him with renewed force. Somehow, he managed to vex her even more. He really would like her to be on his side, but hopefully he wouldn’t stay around for long enough for it to become an issue. Astrid caught his gaze, trying to convey a wordless threat which was, well, slightly adorable. Astrid of his world was a force never to underestimate, unless you were in for a quick injury, and her younger version certainly possessed similar qualities.
They started climbing the stairs leading to the Great Hall when a voice stopped him. “Oi, laddie!” He turned around and looked at Gobber. “You sure you never been to Berk?”
Hiccup froze, wondering what could have brought this on.
“No, not that I recall. Why do you ask?”
“You remind me of an old friend. Perhaps some distant relatives,” he mumbled.
“Might be,” he smiled and continued after Astrid. He kept his hands close so that no one would see them trembling.
Gobber trailed after them, having mentioned the chief’s changing moods. Oh, Hiccup was well acquainted with his father’s temper. Although no one had mentioned Stoick’s name, Hiccup assumed there had to be no other possibility, unless in this strange world Berk had named Spitelout chief, and in that case, he would be in a dire position.
However, more dire than being stranded on his home island of the past? Hard to surpass. The idea of seeing his father made his knees weak. To speak with him again after almost two years was like a dream, but he didn’t trust himself to remain level-headed upon meeting him and not being recognised. He had to be composed enough to come off as trustworthy to get them to help him, or at least not cast him out immediately. Could anyone even help him? How do you get back to your own time without coming off as a lunatic? Gods, the option that he truly had lost his mind was still on the table.
They reached the top of the stairs where gates towered over the island. This was it, then. He took a deep breath and pushed the heavy door.
Candles lit up the space, despite it being a clear midday. The small windows didn’t provide much light, build that way to keep out the cold. People were gathered around the tables with drinks and snacks, and the hall was bursting with conversations and disputes. In the middle there was a circle of people, listening to one loud speaker. Spitelout, Hiccup recognised, who was gloating over his recent dragon killing triumphs. Wonderful.
Astrid meandered through the hall without hesitation, checking over her shoulder whether he was nearby. Most people they passed were familiar to him, yet he felt like a ghost among them, granted a couple glances, nothing more. The age difference wasn’t as striking as with Astrid, at first glance she was the one who looked pulled out of her time. However with each step he noticed several dissimilarities in the hall. The huge map of the archipelago, that Fishlegs and him hung a few months ago, wasn’t there on the wall. In his time he had also applied modifications to the window problem to bring out more natural light. As for the people… Well, they were still the rowdy Hooligans, although it was a gloomy sight to have no dragon flying around.
Astrid led him around the pillars and stopped in front of a huge wooden table where a line of people waited to be granted the chief’s attention. A stack of papers and other appellants hid him from Hiccup’s view. He tried to calm his racing heart and remember that he needed the meeting to go smoothly.
Nothing could have prepared him to hear the voice he had been missing like an aching wound for the last months. He didn’t even care for the words, as his father solved someone’s yak problem. His mind shut out the rest of the room and embraced the low and calm voice, which made him feel at ease and homely. Stoick spoke surely but kindly, the great chief that his people admired and respected. Hiccup felt warm, the thorns that used to cut his heart day by day evaporated. Breathing became easier, as weight fell from his shoulders that had been there from long before the crash in the past.
In no time, the people before them scattered and there he was, standing in front of him, looking strong, slightly tired, but most importantly, alive. His face was surrounded by vibrant colours, the red hair and the beard, and the striking, incisive eyes. There was fierceness and distance in those eyes, yet no malice. This was the chief of Berk, the protector of his people, the unrivalled force of the archipelago. Hiccup wasn’t a stranger to this sight, he had witnessed a fair amount of Stoick’s mood. Even though, he was desperate to see his father’s gaze – the special look reserved for Hiccup.
“Astrid!” Stoick addressed her, glazing over the newcomer. “What brings you here, eh?” She straightened her back and smirked. “I was training in the woods today when some weird sounds drew me in. Then, in the cove, down west, I came across this guy,” she pointed her thumb at Hiccup. “Who claims to have mysteriously appeared from the storm. No ship, no crew, no explanations. Seems suspicious enough to me.”
Hiccup stepped forward under the chief’s scrutinising look. He tried to project as much sincerity and harmlessness as he could, and to be honest, he didn’t need to try hard. He waited until the chief addressed him, submitting himself under his judgement.
Eventually, Stoick’s eyes went from him to Gobber, who was standing beside them, from whom he received the smallest nod. He then turned to Hiccup, displaying a tiny smile under his beard, and said, “So, what is your story, boy?”
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Stoick, Gobber, and Astrid were listening to Harold recounting his story which wasn’t more detailed than what Astrid had already heard. He had scraps of memories, he remembered the storm but not his boat, waking up in the woods but not the crashing. And nothing in between.
Astrid found him not long after he had woken up in the cove. He didn’t have a clue what had been his destination, with whom he was travelling, what for, nothing. And it was maddening how Stoick and Gobber were listening to this guy, nodding, and believing his words in stride.
The truth is, she didn’t know what to think. There was a slight possibility that his story was real, and in that case, she supposed, he would have been terribly frustrated to be stranded away from home. There were small quirks she picked up on, but could they reveal his genuine feelings? His posture, for instance, looked confident but from up-close, he was too still and rigid to be relaxed. He fumbled with his fingers when he spoke, but did the nervousness come from deception or his situation? Perhaps he was trustworthy, and honestly what danger could he pose against all of Berk? But it wasn’t Astrid’s job to decide his fate so she focused on what she could do – that was protecting her island in case it all turned disastrous in a blink.
“I knew a lad once,” Gobber interrupted Astrid’s pondering. “Whose ship ventured to the markets during a storm for a piece of jewellery. A thunder struck the boat right where the captain was standing. And I kid you not, the lad completely forgot who he was! Those storms, eh? They lost him in the sea and found him a month later on another ship. The man was one step from becoming a pirate!” He regarded Harold with sudden seriousness. Then he shook his head. “Nah, you don’t look like a pirate to me.”
Sure, memory loss wasn’t unheard of. However, Astrid still had unanswered questions and keeping quiet for long wasn’t really her thing. “What do you do for a living, then? You must remember something.”
He responded with a smile, the first one that resembled a real one. “I’m a blacksmith. And an inventor, of sorts.”
“Are you now?” Gobber raised an eyebrow. “With arms like these?”
Stoick joined in his laughter. Astrid expected the man to be offended or in any way annoyed, but he was still smiling gently, as if the chide came from old friends.
“That is what my chief says,” Harry continued. “Right before she commissions a new double-headed axe.” Another wave of laughter erupted from the men, followed by Stoick enquiring. “A chieftess, you say?”
“Chief,” he repeated. “She bears the status of chief on our island.”
Fascinating. Astrid noticed that two men got curious as well. A female chief, who was not specifically the wife, was not uncommon, though still rare, much to Astrid’s dismay.
“Well, then, Gobber, I suppose you don’t need an extra hand in the forge, do you?”
“Ay, depends on whether your boy shows up late in the morning, again. I’m telling you, he’ll gouge his eyes from that nightly reading.”
They chuckled once more. While Harry was looking around the Great Hall, Stoick measured the newcomer, a strategy plotting in his head. Whatever he saw in the stranger, Astrid was keen on knowing.
“Listen, boyo,” the chief’s voice thundered in the hall. For some reason, she anticipated the answer as if it were her fate on the line. Although she still wasn’t sure what verdict she wanted to hear. “We’ll help you get back to the sea.”
Harry’s shoulders dropped as he exhaled. But Stoick wasn’t done yet. “However, you’ll have to wait for the storms to pass. In this weather you’re more likely to be lost again, if not end up dead.”
A sound of thunder echoed through the room. “Oi, even the gods agree with you,” said Gobber. “It might be weeks before their wrath subsides.”
“We’ll find you a place to stay. You may show off your smithing skills under Gobber’s eye. For now, grab a bite, you must be hungry. Astrid will show you around, alright, lass? I’ll find you tomorrow, you can ask Gobber for anything you need. That is all I can do at the moment.”
Harold was regarding Stoick with wide eyes, absorbing every word. He was fidgeting, no longer as carefree as he projected at first. He should be glad, right? He would be going home, eventually, no one can control the tides, after all. He wasn’t thrown into the sea, declared a spy, or worse. He had been received rather kindly, there was no looming threat over him on Berk.
“Thank you,” he nodded, sounding earnest. His neck was stretched to meet the chief’s gaze. “Thank you so, so much… sir.”
“Now, now, off you go and eat, we wouldn’t want you to pass out on your feet.” He granted them a grin and shooed Harry and Astrid away with his hand. The man did look quite sickly in the hall’s lights, not to mention his hands were still trembling. Astrid figured she was now stuck with the stranger, so they might at least get a good dinner.
“Come on, let’s go before the food disappears.” He wasn’t looking at her, frozen in spot with his head hung low. She shook his arm to get his attention. He snapped from the daze, lips parted and eyes apprehensive, so unlike his initial composed appearance. Ah, it might have been the day’s exertion coming down from him. “Hello. On we go.” This time he followed her towards the food table in the corner.
He was stuck here for gods know how long. As long as he had no ill intentions, he would be alright.
Indeed, he had nothing to worry about, did he?
At least not tonight.