Chapter Text
Prologue
The Den of the Red Death
“Hiccup.” Astrid murmured as her eyes darted around nervously. “This isn’t the same way we came in.” Her voice was kept particularly quiet to avoid being overheard by their nosy friends. “This doesn’t even look like the island.” She added, and he watched her squint to try and see past the slew of trees sprawled before them.
He swallowed thickly, mind instantly rushing for logic. “Maybe we took a wrong turn.” He offered. “Or maybe we just came out the back...”
“You and I both know that the island didn’t have this many trees. Plus, whatever was left there was mostly...dead or scorched.” From the battle against the massive dragon that had taken Hiccup’s leg, so long ago. “There was that light.”
They’d only gone back to Dragon Island to explore outside of mating season, when they could enter the caves without new parents attacking. Their team – the same team they’d always had – had returned to the island to slink through the bee hive network found within, searching out the hole where the Red Death had lived, feeding off the other dragons catches. They had each used their own dragons to get to the bottom, horrified at the depth but not surprised. There had been a few terrors who had trailed along, eager little things, but Hiccup had ignored them in favor of pacing the cavern where once a monstrous beast laid its body.
There had been runes inside that cave, written in a language not even Fishlegs had been able to read. Wearily, Hiccup had brushed his hands across them. They had glowed blue, brilliantly so, and then the world had gone dark.
They had woken to dust in their lungs, each of them hacking; yet they hadn’t been inside a hole anymore. They had found themselves in a simple cave where light had filtered through a small opening.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder to check on the others. They were busy at work trying to make the opening larger so the bigger dragons could get through. Only Stormfly, Toothless, and the terrors had been able to follow them out. Toothless was clawing at the rock face from the outside while the bulkier Meatlug smashed her tail against them from the inside.
The twins were helping to pull out the smaller, easily moved rocks while Snotlout sat watching and Fishlegs talked Meatlug through the motions.
It was a relief to see everyone unscathed and working together, and the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders since he first awoke eased away. “What you’re suggesting is physically impossible. Magic?”
“Wasn’t ten years ago when we both thought that Vikings living peacefully amongst dragons was impossible.” Astrid pointed out, shrewdly. He eyed his wife with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Leave it to Astrid to shove his own teachings back into his face.
“Nine years.” He replied offhandedly. “And four months, since I met him.”
“I know. I keep count too. Hiccup...”
“We’ve been in bad situations before, more than our fair share. We already checked the caves and the runes we saw aren’t inside this one and we didn’t have any way of reading them anyway. We’ve survived worse, Astrid. We’re Vikings. It’ll be okay.” He butted his head against hers in a sign of affection. “We’ll get through this just like we get through everything else.”
“This isn’t a bad growing season or a heavy snowfall Hiccup. This is...unexplainable.”
“Things happen for a reason.” He cupped her cheek. “We’ll get through this. I promise you.”
She smiled. “And you always keep your promises.”
“I do. Think you can help me carry that log over? We might be able to use it as a lever to move the rocks out of the way.” Together they jogged over to scoop up the dead tree. It was Stormfly who dropped on top of it once in place over Toothless’ back, using his weight to help.
The rocks came crashing down in a flurry of noise and dust, one clashing loudly over Ruffnut’s helmet much to her brother’s amusement. Still, they were relieved when the rest of the dragons were finally freed.
“We’ll stick to the ground.” Hiccup cautioned. “We don’t know what’s out here yet, so it’s safer to stay hidden for now.”
“Have you seen this lot?” Astrid asked amusedly as she swung up into Stormfly’s saddle, the Nadder merrily bobbing along toward the tree line. “I don’t see them doing quiet, or hidden.”
“We have to try.” Hiccup shrugged at her. Everyone was listening to him attentively for once, and he realized just how shaken they all were. “We’ll see if we can find somewhere with water then make camp.” He suggested, for once thanking Gobber’s horrible survival training classes that had, in fact, taught them how to fend for themselves in their youth. “Stick close and try to keep quiet unless absolutely necessary. That means life or death, nothing else.” He stooped to pick up two of their five Terrors, letting the small creatures make themselves comfortable on his shoulders. One of the others settled into Tuffnut’s upturned helmet, the other two making their home atop Meatlug.
Content with the fact that together, they had never failed, Hiccup took to walking alongside Toothless. He brought up the lead of their expedition while Astrid fell into the back. She was a skilled warrior, even if not the strongest – that title went to Fishlegs for all that he hated fighting – but her place as his wife, as the female leader of their clan was behind their people, supporting them every step of the way.
It fell to Hiccup to be the light to guide their way. A heavy burden but one that the Haddock’s had carried for years.
As he walked, he mused, one arm curled across the back of his best friend’s neck.
As the children of Berk grew and the dragon population had sky rocketed, Hiccup knew they wouldn’t be able to support everyone for long. There had been a few hard winters where starvation was a possibility – too many mouths to feed and yet too short a growing season to feed them all. The wild boars and other such creatures that inhabited their woods had been hunted to near extinction, to the point where he’d convinced his father to start catching and breeding wild hogs like sheep.
It had only created more mouths, for pigs ate much.
Their land had started to become almost barren. There was a bone-deep sadness in everyone’s eyes as they all wondered who would slip to death in the quiet of the night.
Hiccup though, he was a thinker. There were other islands not overly far from Berk, although too treacherous for any ship to get through – the seas there littered with the vessels of Vikings who’d failed before them. He had pleaded his case to his father.
Let me go. Let me take my team and whoever else is willing to come and let us go. I’ll write, I’ll visit, but we can’t all stay here. We’ll take dragons with us instead of ships, dad. I know you think I’m too young but I’m of age now. I’m married. I have my own home. Don’t sacrifice us all to death because you can’t stand to see me go. You know I’m right. I’ve been right before, dad. Do I need to prove anything else to you? Please. Please trust me.
His father had let him go with one third of the village at his back.
It had been hard at first. Lodgings couldn’t be built overnight and they’d slept out in tents, the only warmth from small fires and the feel of dragon scales surrounding them.
It had taken two years to build what they had now; a proper working Viking village, complete with grazing pasture for livestock, groaning ships docks where they’d managed to clear paths on the ocean floor, and massive catapults to ward off attack. He’d visited his father in the years since their new home had been created but found that he sort of liked being in charge of his own village.
It was in his blood after all.
“If I can’t get us home.” He told Toothless, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “I’ll make us a new one. How’s that sound, buddy?” He let his nails dig gently into warm scales, smiling at the rumble-purr that left the black dragon’s chest. “Yeah. We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we?”
Toothless turned gold-green eyes to his friend, a smile dancing within them. The beast nodded slowly and Hiccup could see the message there; it didn’t matter where they were. They were together, so they would be okay.
OoOoO
They found water in the form of a crystal clear, bubbling stream not quite big enough to be a river. Fishlegs tested it before deeming it drinkable, and they all binged until their stomachs sloshed uncomfortably. “We’ll need to do something about food.” Hiccup worried to Fishlegs as they made a sweep around their camp – a very tiny clearing. The tree tops were thick enough to shield out the setting sun, and he hoped they were thick enough to keep out rain, should the sky decide to open up. They were all sticky with sweat, their heavy winter furs and the chain mail they wore beneath having proved unsuitable for this climate, as it was much warmer.
“We can worry about it tomorrow. I’m hungry too, but we’re all exhausted right now. If we ask the dragons to go out and fetch food, you know we’ll only get regurgitated fish heads...or something worse.” Fishlegs pulled a face. “I brought rope though, in Meatlug’s saddle.” Good old Fishlegs, always thinking of the improbable. “We can try to rig a net, set it up in the stream. Maybe there’s some fish or something.”
“Give it to Tuff and Ruff; they’re the best knotters we have.” Hiccup nodded. “You go do that, I’m going to make sure there isn’t anything lurking. Toothless!” The dragon bounded to his companion as Fishlegs shuffled into camp. Together, they prowled the parameter of camp.
Nothing. Not a bird, not a rabbit, not a peep. Absolutely silent.
Feeling dread in his gut, they returned. He set up a watch – Tuff and Ruff first, for they always had a hard time falling asleep – and after checking to ensure their mediocre fish trap was in place, he settled beside Astrid to sleep. Toothless curled close at their backs while Stormfly took to the trees.
He fell into a fitful sleep beneath a sky that wasn’t his, worried thoughts turning into bad dreams that haunted him even though he wasn’t awake.
OoOoO
Bilbo felt a wave of apprehension roll over him. “Oh no. No, no, no. The last time you dolts sent me towards a flickering light I happened upon three trolls, and almost got the lot of us killed. I’ll not be heading towards anymore, thank you very much. We are to tell Thorin at once, do you understand me?” He scolded at Fili and Kili, who were holding one of his arms each.
His protests died as they – embarrassingly easily, he might add – used the grip on his arms to hoist him off his feet and carry him through the underbrush. He could scream for Thorin or Gandalf that much was true. Yet if he did, it would most certainly alert whomever the fire belonged to that there were strangers amongst them. “I’m going to kill you both.” He hissed instead, kicking his legs out in an effort to get a grip on something, anything.
“No you won’t.” Fili murmured.
“We’re just going to take a peek. If it’s nothing dangerous, we leave it alone. If it is dangerous, we tell Thorin.” Kili added.
“It’s perfectly safe, Bilbo.”
He cursed the day he’d told them to stop calling him Mister Baggins which had been just as they were leaving the rock, where the eagles had dropped them. Only a half a day ago and he was already regretting it.
He was really beginning to hate Dwarves.
When the makeshift campsite came into view, he honestly had no idea what he was seeing. They were...people, of a sort. They looked like Men but appeared around the same size as the Dwarves – not especially tall, but a fair bit bigger than a Hobbit. There were six in total, although only two were awake.
They were related, that much was obvious. They sat back to back on a short rock and the male of the pair had a shield in his lap, fingers drumming out an absent beat on the worn metal. The female – only known as such for the breasts she clearly had, hugged tight by a corset like top – was steadily sharpening a wicked looking battle ax. If he were to guess, he’d place them as looking to be around Fili’s age.
They had sun kissed skin and golden hair – the male had his hanging in thick, matted lines across his back. The female had a braid hanging over both shoulders, tied in a way that they looked almost like weapons, and there were two smaller ones near her temples that stood on end. There were feathers and beads on both, and the male sported a close-shaved beard, similar to Kili. His shoulders were broad, what they could see of his arms strong. His sister was slimmer but they could see the tell-tale definition of muscle on her as well.
“I hardly think they’re a threat. Probably just travelers.” He whispered to his own companions. He felt ridiculous, spying on a camp of...whatever it is these people were.
Until he heard a rasping inhale. His gaze slid past the siblings on the rock to beyond them, where a two headed beast lay...only no. It was not a beast. One of the heads lifted into the air and as the jaw opened in a yawn something akin to lightening gurgled from its throat.
“Dragon.” Fili breathed out as though the word had been punched from him.
Bilbo had to agree. It was a dragon – he knew it, and they knew it, despite none of them ever having laid eyes on a real one before. A dragon, smaller than the one they were off to kill but most likely similar if the mouth, wings and scales were any indication. Which he believed they were.
“We need to go get Thorin.” Kili whispered.
For once, Bilbo agreed.
Their camp was still alive, supper only just finishing up. “Uncle.” Fili blurted, coming to a sharp halt in front of Thorin who peered up from his bowl with a cocked eyebrow. “We followed lights, and came across a camp. There are strange creatures there. They look like men but they are only our size.”
“None of that matters –“ Bilbo snapped, shoving at Fili’s shoulder.
“There are dragons, uncle. At least one, as far as we saw.” And they really should have taken a closer look, stupid. “It’s horrible, two headed, disgusting.” Kili gasped out. “We didn’t stick around to see if there were others, but there are dragons. I know we haven’t seen any in person but –“
“They were definitely dragons.” Fili finished, eyes darting across his uncles face. “What will you have us do?”
Thorin was out of his seat, bowl cast to the side. “I will have us all bear arms and take to battle with this new enemy.” He said grimly as one hand fell to his sword. Around him his Company and one Wizard raised as well, meals forgotten. “Show us the way.”
Dragons, he thought, will need to be destroyed. They cannot be left alive to wreak upon others was they have brought upon my kin. It was a sound justification in his mind; in the mind of his companions as well, he was certain. What if they’re being summoned to Smaug?
Traveling with their Hobbit had taught them the art of stealth. They formed a semi-circle of soldiers as they watched the now-dosing dragon, both heads deep in sleep.
The male of the pair appeared to be falling asleep, head dipping down to his chest. The female had her head leaned back against his, her eyes focused on the stars in a dream-like wonder. Thorin wondered if they’d been enslaved by the beast, if perhaps their weapons were more for show than use. Surely as a pair they could slay a sleeping dragon? No one would be foolish enough to befriend the vicious creatures.
He felt Dwalin tense beside him, ax at the ready. It had been decided that the hardened warrior would be the first to go in – he’d requested it. He caught Dwalin’s eye out of the corner of his own and silently he nodded.
The warrior lunged from the underbrush with a battle cry so loud it startled the male back to awareness. The dragon’s eyes opened; it looked confused, brain sleep added. The ax swung downwards in a deadly arc, certain to meet its mark and behead at least one of the two skulking, horrible faces and –
Twang
The male’s ax clashed into Dwalin’s, the vibration reverberating through the small clearing and obviously shaking both of them. Dwalin was surprised enough to stumble backwards as the female screamed Hiccup in a rasping, whiskey-rich voice. Her ax came flying at Dwalin quick enough that he only just barely managed to block.
The siblings fought as one, shoving him backwards as they took a stand before the beast who had finally found its feet. An awful green smoke cloud billowed from one mouth, the smell absolutely noxious as the cloud floated to the ground, brushing near their feet.
The rest of the Company descended upon them.
“Barf!” The female shrieked.
“Belch!” The male added.
“No! Idiots! They’ll set fire to the whole clearing!” The new comer was a very, very large fellow – quite possibly larger than Bombur. He held a mace in his hand and he grabbed onto one of the dragon heads, pulling it close to him. “Tell them to stop you guys! You’ll blow us all up!”
The siblings shared a glance before the male grabbed the free head. His fingers scraped against the underside of its chin and the dragon...collapsed.
It seemed almost boneless, one half of the body falling limp against the grass, eyes rolled into its head. The other side followed soon after.
“Drop your weapons and back away.” The female growled finally, swinging her ax at them again.
Thorin raised his eyebrows. “It’s three against an entire Company, girl. You put your weapon down and step aside so we may slay this cursed beast that has obviously bewitched you.”
“Over my dead body.” She spat.
“A Company? We’ve got dragons, nimrod.” The male added.
“Uh, guys I don’t think –“
“Shut up Fishlegs.” They said as one, before sneering at each other. He had moved to stand at his sister’s side.
“I don’t know how you do things around here –“
“-but you are not touching our dragons.”
“Both of you stop it.” A new voice added. This one belonged to a female.
She was...pretty, in an odd way. Entirely beardless, for certain. Her legs were encased in brown leather, feet covered in thick leather and fur boots. Her skirt appeared to be made from metal, linked in a way that reminded Thorin of his grandfather, Thror. The belt around her waist made a clinking noise as she moved and they noted the small skulls hanging from it, from various creatures, it would appear. The shirt she wore was brown; the leather laces at the throat of it undone. It clearly wasn’t hers, for it was much too large in the shoulders. It hung off them at either side, revealing cream colored underclothes. There was a very dainty, very discreet crown settled around her blond head. It was silver much like the rest of her adornments – cuffs on her ears – and a pretty little sapphire laid in its centre, highlighting her eyes.
“It’s obvious.” She started, hands held peacefully outwards, “That there’s been a misunderstanding here. No one is going to be killing anyone. What we’re going to do is take a deep breath and talk about this like adults, which it seems we all are.” Both of her brows were raised as she crept ever forward. “How does that sound? Good? Everybody is good?” She spoke as though she was talking to a small child, or a beaten dog.
It irritated Thorin.
“They started it.” The male grunted.
“Yeah.” The female added.
The new girl rolled her eyes upwards, mouthing a prayer.
“Enough of this.” Thorin decided as he pushed past Dwalin, who let him. “You will step aside this instant!” His voice had risen to an obvious bellow, and he grabbed the crowed woman by the arm to shove her out of his way. They clearly didn’t know what they were doing; his duty was to his people, but he couldn’t allow another to fall under the control of a dragon.
Only his grip slipped as a black scaled monster dropped from above, silent as a shadow and dangerous as death. He hit the ground hard, sword tumbling from his grasp as the beast used its clawed front legs to pin his arms to the ground. The mouth parted, teeth glinting in the faint light as its mouth began to hiss, and the smell of smoke filling his nose as a glow began, purple-tinged.
To die by a dragon’s fire in the middle of the woods was a dishonorable way to die, indeed. He was reminded of the white Warg who had bowled him over just as easily, chest aching.
“Toothless, no!” Yet another new one. Leather and metal clad fingers dipped daringly into the corner of the monsters mouth. “Get off of him, come on buddy back it up.”
The slitted eyes widened to almost comical innocence as the beast stepped back off of him. It sat, tall as Gandalf, on its rump. The tail swished lazily.
The woman he’d grabbed was being held back by the siblings, one arm wielding a sword; the other held a battle ax. “Son of a hack troll.”
“Hey you okay? He didn’t hurt you did he?” A hand reached tentatively out to help him up. The face belonging to the body was sincere. He had hair similar in color to the Ri brothers, shaggy around his face and falling to almost his shoulders. His eyes were bright and concerned. Thorin shook his head and allowed himself to be helped to his feet, the warg wounds still lightly aching.
Once standing, a knuckle duster clad fist slammed horribly against his cheek. The redhead shook his hand out. “Sorry.” He apologized. “But that was for grabbing my wife.”
“That beast is not toothless. And I cannot allow them to live. Where there are dragons there is only destruction to follow.” Thorin rubbed a hand over his jaw, forcing the pain of it from his mind. Can we kill them still? We’ll have to remove these people. The warrior in him began formulating a plan.
The redhead made a sympathetic noise. “I understand. I really do. I’m Hiccup by the way. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. The third.” He held out a hand for a shake. Thorin indulged him, hoping that perhaps he could make these fools see reason.
“Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King under the Mountain.” He said in kind. “At your service.”
“My...? Oh. At yours.” Hiccup released him. “This is my wife, Astrid. My close friend Fishlegs, my comrades Ruffnut and Tuffnut and my cousin...” He trailed off. “Wait.” He twisted and the creaking noise made all their eyes trail downwards. He had a false leg, oddly shaped and metal. “Snotlout? Guys, where are Snotlout and Hookfang?” He cried.
“Don’t look at me! Tuffnut was keeping watch on that side!” Ruffnut cried.
“Hey! Way to be a sell-out.”
“Both of you enough!” Astrid shouted. Her battle ax waved above their heads, and they both ducked further away from her. “Hiccup, why, in the name of Freya would Snotlout leave camp?”
“Better question is how far did he go? If he heard all the screaming Thor knows he’d have been here swinging his hammer.” Fishlegs said, sounding worried. “How did he sneak himself and Hookfang out?”
Astrid’s lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to her husband. “Think you can keep this under control?” He nodded. “I’m going out to find Snotlout with Stormfly. You’re the negotiator, you stay here.” She pressed a finger over his mouth to shut off any of his protests, before stealing a quick kiss. “I’ll be okay. Trust me. Trust Stormfly.” They butted heads gently and then she whistled.
The blue and gold beast looked like a bird as it bobbed its way to them. She swung up into the saddle with her weapons strapped once more to her body. With another low whistle from the woman the dragon’s wings spread. Two long flaps and it was airborne.
Hiccup watched her go. “Why don’t we all sit down and have a nice discussion about our respective reasoning’s on how to deal with dragons.” He cast Thorin and Company a soft smile. “Tuff, Ruff, can you guys go check the traps? See if we caught anything yet. Take BB with you.” He jerked his chin towards the dragon. “’Legs, with me. Keep Meatlug lose.”
Meatlug turned out to be a grotesquely fat dragon, with large lumps all over her body. She was curled into a burnt patch of grass, watching them all with half lidded eyes. Fishlegs rubbed between her eyes and patted her snout as he took a seat in front of her, using his body to shield hers.
Ori let out an undignified yelp as one of the Terrors – deep purple along its back – scampered by his feet.
“Just ignore them.” Hiccup suggested as he leaned heavily on Toothless. A Terror clambered up to sit in his lap, and his hand set to stroking its small head adoringly. “Since you seem bent on killing my friends, I’ll let you go first.” He told Thorin; his lips were pulled into an almost playful smile.
If they understood, they’d be more willing to listen. The only way to get them to see reason was to repeat their tale.
Thorin let Balin explain the fall of Erebor to the Great and Terrible Smaug. The strange dragon-friends listened with rapt attention, the siblings having returned halfway through the telling, fishless. “Here we do not befriend dragons. We kill them, for they bring only destruction in their wake.” The greying man intoned gravely, before explaining to them all that they were Dwarves, that Bilbo was a Hobbit – Ruffnut seemed enthralled with his pointed ears and hairy feet – and that Gandalf was a Wizard.
“I thought Dwarves were those things that stole Gobber’s underpants.” Tuffnut muttered, unfortunately loud enough for the present company to hear, and become offended by.
Fishlegs rushed to rectify the situation. “Those are Gnomes, Tuff, not Dwarves.”
“Oh, right.”
“She’s been gone a while.” Ruffnut was finally pulled from her overly friendly inspection of Bilbo by her own thoughts.
“You may seek her once your tale is told.” Thorin said icily.
It fell to Fishlegs to explain their story. He spoke of the Red Death and the Boneknapper. He stumbled as he explained the heroic way Toothless had saved Hiccup, how they relied on one another to survive now. He spoke at length of how dragons had become the Vikings strongest ally, of their famine and rebirth. Finally at the end, he spoke to Gandalf of the mystic runes in the dragon cave.
“I fear I’ve never heard of such a thing.” The old Wizard said voice carefully blank.
Hiccup hummed noncommittally before he stood. “I figured as much.” He tossed them a carefree smile. “It’s okay though. We’ll find a way home. After we get your home back.” He jabbed a finger at Thorin, who couldn’t hide the look of surprise.
“I will not take you into my Company. Our treasure is already-“
“We don’t want your treasure.” Hiccup argued. “But if there’s a dragon that needs training, you can bet all the gold in your mountain that we can handle it. Or kill it. Whichever comes first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and for the first time since they’d met him, he seemed kingly – which, they supposed, he was. He called himself Leader but King was the word used in Middle Earth. “We’ll train your dragon or he’ll go the way of the Red Death, and then we’ll find our way home. But until then if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my wife and cousin.” He scooped a helmet off the ground and set it upon his head. “Come on Toothless, let’s go find the others.”
The rest of the Viking moved to follow, dragons at their sides. Thorin’s mind was made up quickly; he would be a fool to let these strangers and their evil companions stray too far. “We will come with you.” He growled.
As a group they marched as one.
OoOoO
They found the others near an overhanging of rock. Snotlout was crouched low beside Astrid who was stretched on her stomach, peering over the ledge as subtly as she could. Their dragons were sitting together near the tree line, Hookfang chewing at a claw and Stormfly grooming his scales. Hiccup patted both dragons on the head before dropping down and crawling to the overhang. “What is it?” He whispered.
The rest of them realized something was wrong. The siblings – twins, Ori had found out – shifted nervously and exchanged glances, hands falling to their weapons.
It was Gandalf who approached the Vikings to take a peek before forcing them all into a hasty retreat from the overhang. “Goblins.” He told Thorin. “They must have come down from the mountains, following our trail.”
“Goblins? They’re a lot bigger than our Goblins.” Snotlout rubbed the back of his head, and then scratched a hand through his thick black beard.
“Those are hob-Goblins.” Fishlegs replied.
“Bookworm.” Snot said it like it was an insult.
Hiccup growled. “And it’s saved your sorry hide more than once, ‘Lout. Be nice or I’m taking Hookfang and leaving you here by yourself. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than fighting with each other.”
“Plus,” Ruffnut added, sounding oddly sedate. “We all know if ‘Legs wanted to he could wipe this forest floor with your arse.”
Snotlout’s face turned a furious shade of red as he sucked in a breath to yell at her. Two hands slapped over his mouth – Astrid and Hiccup.
“What –“
“About – “
“Goblins –“
“Do you not-“
“Understand?” Astrid finished. She grimaced in distaste and jerked her hand away as Snotlout slathered it in spit. Hiccup didn’t pull away, simply glared harder and knocked a fist lightly against his cousin’s helmetless head.
“They’ll be hot on our trail as soon as they catch our scent.” Gandalf said finally, watching the Vikings with a mixture of amusement and horror. “We must make haste to leave this place.”
“An enemy at your back is an enemy with a chance.” Astrid said. Her voice and her eyes were like ice, staring at the jagged overhang of rock. “You can run if you want but they’ll always be five steps behind you. If you kill them now, they’ll be gone forever. That’s up to you, though.” Her hand reached around to the ax strapped to her back.
Hiccup eyed her. “There can’t be more than fifty.” He mused aloud. “We should be able to take them.”
“Does this mean I finally get to smash things?” Ruffnut sounded eager as she tipped her helmet back a bit so she could see. “I miss smashing things.”
Hiccup grinned to himself as his dragon sidled up to him. In a flash, he was mounted. “Let’s make quick work of this, guys. Try not to set the entire forest on fire, okay? Aim straight, and aim true. If you have to get into close range combat, do it. Remember we only have a limited amount of shots before we’re out of ammo. Astrid, there’s archers down there – you and Stormfly head to them. Shoot them down as fast as you can. Fishlegs, go with Astrid. Meatlug should be thick enough that the arrows can’t hurt her. Ruff, Tuff, run as distraction – keep their eyes on you. Snotlout, if you can, get off of Hookfang and let her do her thing. You know what I’m talking about. Terrors, go for the throat. Toothless.” His hand stroked down a sleek black neck as he leaned forward, preparing himself. “Let’s fly.”