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Somewhere over the table, Astrid is slumped, hair entirely unbraided and strewn over her face in an entirely un-characteristic, messy braid. The kind of chaos he’d well-take from his sister, but Ruff looks more put-together than almost anyone else, if sprawled backwards against Barf’s neck with one arm behind her back, muttering under her breath about how her back will hurt forever and she’s not properly leaning on anything counts as put together. Better than some of the stuff he’s seen Ruffnut doing, anyway. So.
Fishlegs is rubbing at some obvious bruises on his arm, leaning against Meatlug, who’s worried and licking at him. Hiccup’s the only sane person, sitting calmly at the clubhouse table, and Tuff drops beside him, ‘cuz that’s probably where he’s supposed to be.
And tries really, really hard not to look at Snotlout, sulking and miserable in a far corner, one leg swollen and, you know, purple-ing.
“Okay, that’s it,” Snotlout yells out, somehow conscious enough to keep yelling. “I’ve had enough of these stupid Nadders!”
“Guys, we can’t just let them get killed,” Hiccup tries.
“I’m not sacrificing my legs for that, thank you!” his cousin yells shrilly.
“Yeahhh,” Astrid sighs, “We can’t just let them die, but seriously, even Stormfly’s getting tired, and there’s just too many.”
Anybody got any brilliant ideas?” Tuffnut asks, too tired to think. When’s the last night he slept through? Uh, three days? And counting. No, much, much more. But. Point is, he’s cranky.
“I do have one, actually,” Fishlegs intervenes, “We need another dragon from the Sharp Class. And we don’t have time to train another group of Nadders to do the job for us, so…”
“Heather!” Tuffnut shouts out, because for as dumb as he is, he has brains.
“Yes, Heather,” Hiccup is shooting up, happy and alert. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’m so stupid.”
“Yes,” Snotlout adds, viciously, “Yes, you are.” Everyone looks at him. “What?!”
“Watch your tongue,” Astrid says sharply, combing her fingers through her hair.
“You’re to the one with a poisonous spine in your leg!” Snotlout shouts, like somebody needs the reminder. Tuff had laughed because, honestly, it was better than screaming or crying or going murderous on the dragons they are trying so, so hard to help, who think they’re being attacked. ‘cuz it’s hunting season. And from boars and yaks and stuff, they learn and it makes them jittery.
“Heather might not be able to help much,” Hiccup intervenes, standing, “But you’ve got a good idea – Fishlegs, and, uh, Tuff. Thanks. We should send her a letter, ask her for help. I – I’ll write something up now.”
“I’ll do it!” Tuff protests, “I’ve been writing to her…” Then he thinks about telling Heather that he wants to see her in person and just freaks out. “Okay, fine, you do it, you do everything cool.”
Hiccup laughs a little, then he pulls out a paper to scrawl a quick message on, whistles for Sharpshot, and sends the thing out.
Which is all great and well to Tuff, anyway. And a bit scary. They’re gonna see-see Heather again. Which is sort of… wow. It’s been a long time.
***
Heather arrives by midday the next day, uninjured and as perfect and serene as she always is, which is just as wow. Tuffnut feels entirely worn from existence, which is getting, you know, annoying. The Nadder migration has been crazy. And in a not-so-great sort of way.
But Tuff is immediately back to that scrambling and flustered state where he honestly doesn’t even know what to do or say or anything, and it’s embarrassing. Ugh.
By the time he and Ruff fly and run up, Hiccup and Heather are exchanging hugs and a few words, and the girl moves past him to Astrid, and exchange a few hi’s and stuff themselves. Tuff tries not to be twitchy. The last time Heather spent a long while hanging out with the girl, she fake betrayed them, made everyone believe it, and Astrid just rolled right along.
Which means, in short, that he’s just, y’know, jumpy.
Because if Heather fake-died or something next, he’d be devastated. And Chicken is enough of a heartache herself, thank you very much.
“Hey!” Tuff blurts out, frantic and fumbling, “We should sing the Dragon's Edge welcome song.”
“Tuff, we don’t have a Dragon's Edge welcome song,” Hiccup tells him flatly with a pointed don’t embarrass yourself in front of her face on. Too late. His name is Tuffnut Thorsotn, and embarrassment is the core of his existence.
“Sure, we do,” he argues quickly, because Heather is here and they really should make it something of a party. Besides, she deserves a nice, warm welcome. “It’s very catchy. I can perform it in several keys and there's sort of a dance that I do along with it…”
“Yeah. I think Heather would rather set her gear down and get settled,” Astrid intervenes.
“I’d love to hear your song later, Tuff,” heather calls over her shoulder as Astrid loops her arm through the other girl’s and drags her away. Hiccup trails after, and Tuff just stands there, panicked and jittery.
“Good. Oh, Heather, you're gonna love it. And now I have time to warm up…” He trails off again, realizing panickily that, actually, he’s completely and utterly clueless about what to do. Okay, Yeah, Hiccup told him to just. Be him. Which is actually really hard, thank you.
“Ya need some help?” Ruff asks teasingly sauntering over to him. Tuff scowls back at her.
“No,” he insists, just to be difficult. “No, I can handle it just fine on my own.”
“Mhmmm.” Ruffnut giggles. “Fine. Feel free to get your girlfriend on your own.”
Tuff waits, for about fifteen seconds as his sister saunters away before panicking. “Wait! Come back! I can, uh, we can write the song and I’ll give you some of the credit. But mostly me.”
“Sure,” Ruff says with upmost glee, “But you’ll owe me.”
“Fine!”
“Greaaat.”
How can Ruffnut be enjoying herself so much?!
***
Heather finally confesses, later that day, to be still having issues with the Dagur thing. Even though Tuff wrote a three-page long letter to make her feel better about it, both front and back, even if they had an ink spill on one of them. And, all the riders pitched in with their own. They’ve sort of been hoard-sending her letters mostly non-stop since Viggo happened.
Tuff heard from Ruff who heard from Astrid who heard from Hiccup who heard from heather, or something along those lines.
Which is a lot of herd-from’s, but they go in to fuss over a miserable Snotlout who just wants to eat even though he’s throwing up. The boy is completely ridiculous.
And then Heather of all people cooked dinner, and Tuffnut is swooning over the gloriousness.
“Your cooking is great,” he’s fumbling, hoping desperately this food isn’t chicken, because he absolutely loves this food. It’s glorious, and with Ruffnut as the usual cook, she pranks while cooking, and it’s absolutely horrible. They seriously need one good cook on Dragon’s Edge, and while Snotlout is passable, he also only cooks meat.
Which is boring.
Tuffnut really likes variety. Spitelout apparently had very specific tastes and was cranky to anyone who tired exotic, which is so dumb.
Astrid’s taste is just bad, Fishlegs doesn’t cook, and Hiccup burns everything he touches.
So, that leaves Ruff.
‘cuz Tuffnut really thinks he has better things to do, even if he, you know, helps. Sometimes. “And who’s hogging the gravy?”
“Mine,” Snotlout says, piled in a heap of misery on the corner, leg propped up by pillows because something about swelling, and is still managing to eat way, way too much.
“Uh, Snotlout, you know you’re gonna throw all that back up, right?” Astrid asks pointedly.
“Don’t care,” he says and keeps right on stuffing his mouth.
“Uh, I’m with Astrid,” Fishlegs intervenes.
“Of course, you’re with Astrid. You’re always with Astrid,” Snotlout scowls and keeps eating.
“Snotlout, please stop hoarding food,” Heather interjects, which about breaks it up, “I made enough for everyone.”
Snotlout begrudgingly lets the gravy bowl get gleefully snatched by Ruff, who tries to take the rest for herself until Tuff kicks her under the table.
“Guys,” Hiccup intervenes, ‘I hate to break it up, but we’ve got more Nadder’s incoming.”
Tuffnut moans. “No way! We just sat down to eat.”
“Some of us finished eating,” Fishlegs uselessly offers.
Tuff is about to throw everybody into the ocean.
“Heather, you and Windshear could come with us. We can sure use the help,” Hiccup says, already leaving his plate of glory to Snotlout’s mercy and climbing on his dragon.
“Windshear is still tired from the long trip. We'll only slow you guys down,” Heather objects.
“Uggghhh, fine,” Snotlout huffs, then waves. “Okay! Heather can keep me company, then. You’re nicer than Hookfang.”
His dragon snorts fire at him.
“Hey! Hookie, wounded warrior here!”
“Alright, I’ll stay with Snotlout,” Heather settles, “Be careful out there, guys.”
Tuff is most definitely being careful as can be after that. He realllly wants to get back to the Edge in one piece, after all.
Also, for the record, if Hookfang and Windshear got in a fight, no shock. Happens every day. Moody dragon.
***
“Whoa!” Heather’s laugh is wild and free, but she sounds happy here.
Tuff cackles, air rushing across them as they dangle and swing down the zip-line system that Astrid hated so much and has wisely finally learned to appreciate. He’s still so smug Hiccup checked the plan right off. He is amazing.
Young, but amazing. Just like Heather.
They carefully crash land on one of the lower parts of the island, tumbling over a few times. Heather looks winded, but she’s laughing, too.
“This was definitely an interesting transport method.”
“Yeah! Just wait ‘til you try it in the dark. It’s amazing. Hiccup checked the plan right away. Unlike Astrid, she was so cranky. This was Ruff’s and my idea.”
“Definitely a good idea,” Heather is agreeing, and they turn to see Fishlegs waving to them from nearby.
“I picked out a place for your hut,” he offers. “Uh, technically, we talked over and picked a place for your hut. If you want to stay.”
“I’m not sure we want to build anything permanent quite yet. But, if I do end up staying, you picked out a nice place for me,” she replies, smiling and scanning over the area. “Thank you, Fishlegs.”
He smiles back a little shyly.
“Trust me,” Tuffnut tries, “You’re gonna want it. Astrid is really bossy. You aren’t gonna wanna stay in her hut.” He shudders.
“I was thinking about asking Hiccup if I could stay over with him,” she says, “You know, if we don’t sleep in the clubhouse, which is also fine.”
“Uh.” Tuff is fumble-y again. “Uh, Hiccup’s house? That thing’s more cluttered than yak mutton with yak. Or more than a Gronckle-fest with Gronckles.”
“I’ll just stick to the clubhouse,” she settles, “Windshear and I are used to sleeping together, anyway.”
“Suuuuurre.” And of course, that little glorious moment is entirely ruined when off they go for another Nadder fest, trying to chase the pesky little nasty creatures away when they shoot fire and poison spikes in sheer rage at the dragon riders trying to save their lives. Rude. Really rude.
Windshear comes with them, and Tuffnut is about as happy as can be, hyper and gleeful about the entire ride and entirely innocent of the obvious what’s about to come.
Until Windshear starts getting a bit jittery, though Tuff is pretty distracted dodging angry dragons. There’s so much yelling and everybody yelling that he honestly didn’t even notice Windshear getting riled up until the spikes start flying, and then his entire body is being jolted, head throbbing and spinning, and barely manages to grab Belch’s horns to keep from tipping right off.
And a nice, long silver sparking spike is stuck from his helmet. If it weren’t caught, it would’ve sliced right through his head.
A Windshear spike.
“Windshear?” he turns, dizzy, the sunlight too bright and scratching in the back of his eyes. Owww. Turning his head hurts. “Mean, mean girl, what’s wrong with you?!”
“I’m so sorry, Tuff!” That’s Heather, struggling with her dragon and semi-hysterical. “I don’t know what’s – what’s happening. Hiccup, we’re not doing you guys any good.”
“Heather, it’s fine,” Astrid interrupts, “Sometimes the dragons just get a little skittish.”
“No, I’ve seen her skittish. That's not what this is,” Heather Argues, shaking her head. “I’ll see you guys back at the Edge. I have to figure out what's wrong with my dragon.” And then she’s just pulling off, Tuffnut still overwhelmed and honestly really hurt.
Heather’s dragon just tried to murder him. What did he even do to her?
“Okay, guys, Nadders first, then we deal with Windshear. Ruff, Tuff!”
“Please say "Wall of Fire". Please say "Wall of Fire”,” he chants hopefully.
“Wall of Fire!”
“Yeah!” Tuff screams with excited glee.
Except Nadders don’t like fire, you know? Mean, rude, impolite creatures.
It should be very obvious a fire-wall to the face is only meant to help.
Can they stop throwing poison spikes?!
But the fifteen seconds of everything-on-fire glory lasts until a flaming spike sails through the flame wall and hits not him, but Ruff.
His sister shrieks as she falls, toppling from her saddle and dropping. Down.
“Ruff!!” He thinks that was Hiccup, and Tuff doesn’t need to tell their dragon to dive for Barf and Blech to let out shrieks of terror and dive to catch her. It’s not only them, either – most everyone is going for Ruff. His poor, poor sis who did not deserve to be poison-stabbed and nearly-drowned by the evil little creatures she was just trying to help.
Ruffnut is just falling.
Hiccup and Toothless have a near-catch-her dive, and Tuff suspects Hookfang would already have her if Snotlout had been watching, but Snotlout can’t fly right now. They had to leave him alone with Smidvarg and the Gang.
Barf and Belch catch her in their claws, the dragon swooping downwards and over the water before slowly pulling up again.
“They got her,” Astrid calls.
“I think the Nadders scattered,” Fishlegs offers, “Most of them changed course.”
“That’ll have to be good enough.” Toothless is flying right below Barf and Belch. “We gotta take care of Ruff.”
And then it’s just a mad scramble.
Fishlegs takes her from the Zippleback, glaring at and daring everybody to try stealing her, and carries her into the Clubhouse. Heather is nearby, but all Tuff can think about is his sister, mostly unconscious, a Nadder spine embedded deep in her right shoulder. He really hopes that didn’t break ribs, but fumbled questions are being met with shushing and all he wants to do is scream, and there’ blood.
His sister’s blood.
Not the kind of laugh-about scratch or scrape from something crazy and fun, but something actually, potentially lethal, streaking down her clothes and Tuff finally kicks everybody out of the way to get her tunic off, and somebody’s yanked the spine out and Fishlegs is scrambling to get some sort of antidote.
‘cuz that worked so great on Snotlout, who’s yelling angrily from the corner about ‘why didn’t you use that stuff on me?!”
Tuff finally just throws his helm aside and lets it spin into a screeching stop on the ground. He’ll worry about the Windshear spike later. Annoying or no, he’d gladly have taken that actual shot for Ruff.
Chicken is clucking with upmost concern, but Tuff feels nothing, except that’s Ruff and she could die.
She’s losing blood.
“Does she need more blood?” he mumbles, “I can give her some of mine, we’re twins, we –”
“Tuff, please, please just breathe.” And that’s Hiccup now, his face pale and shaking, too, but he drags Tuff outside so he can get a non-glory moment of crying in peace.
Barf and Belch come to hover and nuzzle him, then sneak inside to fuss over Ruff and lick her to death, and Toothless is trailing his rider with wide-eyed concern.
Tuffnut really feels nothing.
“She is going to be okay, Tuff,” Hiccup promises firmly, shaking his shoulders. “Alright? She’s Ruff. She’s not gonna die from a Nadder spine.”
Tuff should ask if he’s really believing that, but Hiccup’s word is always real, and he mostly finds comfort in whatever the boy says, and offers him a nice, tight hug that he whines and whines about the entire way.
Hiccup stays a few minutes longer before heading back inside, leaving Tuff just sitting there staring blankly, exhausted and definitely, definitely not crying or anything like that.
But then Heather comes up, and her face says she just knows, and she pulls Tuff into a hug.
It’s probably the best hug he’s ever had.
***
Ruff wakes up the next morning. Briefly, grumble-growling some really nasty things at everyone for worrying, then drops right back under, sprawled in misery next to Snotlout who keeps babbling to her and pretending she’s awake.
“Getyerstinkyhair outtamyface,” she’d grumbled as he wiggled his fingers right in front of her eyes.
“My hair’s stinky? No one’s stinks worse than yours!” he’d yelled right back, and everything was back to normal.
“Guys, we gotta go out again.” That’s Astrid now, sticking her head in and off before Tuff has more time to process.
“Count me out,” Tuff yells after angry. He knows the job and rules and bla, bla, bla, but Ruff is more important, and if he sees anyone else get spined, he’s gonna lose his mind.
“Oh, did you hear about Heather?” Snotlout asks, bored.
“What about her?”
“She’s leaving. Yeah, her and Windshear nearly drowned Hicctooth yesterday after the Nadder-sine-murder, and –”
And Tuff is out before he can finish talking.
Heather can’t leave. None of this is her fault, and if Windshear’s being weird, and he remembers a certain dragon root insanity a while back, so…
Hey.
Huh, not a bad idea.
“Heather!” There she is, re-packing on Windshear, and Barf and Belch trail right after him. “Wait!” He definitely doesn’t mean to sound like a whining toddler, though he sure manages it well.
“Yes, Tuffnut?” She’s off her dragon and over to him as he nearly Faceplants at the bottom of the stairs, panting.
“Whoaa. There are – w hy – are there – so many – stairs?” he wheezes, “Are there a hundred? Definitely more than ten.”
“Okay, just – just take a breath,” she’s requesting, hand on his shoulder. Which feels nice.
“Yeahhh,” he wheezes, gasping dizzily, “Dragon root – the dragon stuff – uh…”
“Tuff?”
“Astrid and Snotlout switched dragons once,” he offers, perking upright eve n if his chest is still heaving.
“Um,” she says, confused, eyebrows pinching. “Okay.”
“Serious,” he whines, “Hookfang and Stormfly were actually trying to kill each other. We thought they were made, because their riders were mad, but it turned out, it was some sort of eternal dragon-feud based on roots. Which is so weird.”
“That sounds… deadly,” Heather says, still lost, “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“We could dragon-swap,” he offers, “Windshear won’t murder anybody if you’re on Barf’n’Belch.”
“Huh. That’s – not a bad plan, actually,” she concedes, “But if it doesn’t work and I get somebody else hurt…”
“You didn’t get Ruff hurt. Honest,” he argues, “That was kinda my fault. I should’ve pulled back or – or something.” But he got his twin hurt – again, instead. Because he wanted a glory explosion. He’s awful.
“Windshear could have killed you.”
“I don’t care,” he says, sullen, “I refuse to let you walk away without trying to fix this.”
She sighs. “Okay. But one problem. I thought Barf and Blech needed two riders?”
Tuff’s grin is devious.
***
“I hate you both, and I like my legs,” Snotlout says, arms crossed and miserable.
“I have to agree, this is a… kind of questionable plan?” Heather calls from behind him.
“Oh, I know. it’s got dumb written all over it,” Tuff answers gleefully, happily on Windshear’s back.
“I’m sorry, he’s like that,” Snotlout complains, “Look, if my leg falls off, it’s on your head, Tuff.”
“I know,” he says, happy.
But this time they’re running a dragon hunter-ship, and Astrid got tangled down, which is amazing.
“We should help,” Heather calls urgently.
“Nah, just wait.”
“Uh, do you even know what you’re doing?” That’s Snotlout.
“No idea.”
“Great. We’re killing Astrid. I’ll redecorate her hut for you, Heather.”
“Tuff?” Heather sounds freaked out now, but then Stormfly shrieks, and the Nadder distress call brings the flock they were battling right in to help.
“Yeah!” Tuff cackles with glee. “Okay, Windshear, chop stuff you. You guys do… whatever you guys do.”
“Uh, is somebody gonna tell me what’s happening?” Fishlegs calls.
“I honestly have no idea,” Heather yells from Barf’s back, and everything wood is being chopped up and burned.
Windshear is amazing.
And hey! She didn’t try to kill any of the riders.
“You maniac!” Astrid yells shrilly back in the air. “You could’ve gotten me killed!”
“Hey! We nicely reminded the mean poison-fly-spike-ies that you’re a Nadder, too,” Tuff whines.
Hiccup huffs a laugh. “Ridiculous, but it worked this time. Come on. Let’s head back and check Ruff over.”
“Good. I’d like my dragon back. Snotlout, get off.”
“Uggh!” He jumps over to Hookfang, who catches him gently, and the riders head back home.
“Tuff, and I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Heather says, pulling him back, “You did help a lot out there.”
“It was fun,” he mumbles, flushing.
And then she kisses his cheek and is just moving off, leaving Tuff spluttering and ridiculously gushy.
“Sooooo.” Snotlout’s still riding Hookfang, leg awkwardly propped against the dragon. “All that… was for that?”
“Uhhhh.”
“Ew.” That’s Ruff.
“Okay, fine, but you owe me,” Snotlout accuses, lightly punching his shoulder. “You’re gonna hafta put me word in with someone soon.”
“Don’t say Astrid,” Tuff orders, and they all laugh.
Later that night, with Ruff slumping tiredly but smiling against Tuff’s shoulder, Barf and Belch curled up around them as they watch Hiccup, Heather, and their dragons working into the night on the newest hut, everything feels a lot more full.
Having Heather here is gonna be amazing.