Chapter Text
The first thing Hiccup notices that’s different is the heat, a burning heat that he is very familiar with, that shouldn’t be in his bedroom. The heat of a forge. Was his room on fire? No, he knew it was a forges fire, it didn’t have the slightly woody tang that he should of been able to smell if his room was on fire, it was also far hotter. Another thing that shouldn’t be in his room is the pounding clang of someone working on metal. It is very loud, causing the floor he is lying on to tremble slightly – wait, why is he on the floor? Surely, he is in bed. Hiccup moves his hand trying to find the blanket, it isn't there. Maybe he had fallen out of bed? Suddenly a booming voice shouts out, or maybe it is singing? It is difficult to tell, if it is singing then it’s very out of tune and clearly didn’t know all the words to whatever the song is. It sort of reminded him of Gobber’s singing.
Hiccup begins to seriously wander if he is actually in bed. Could he be dreaming?
But everything feels real. The wooden planked floor underneath him, the forge smell, heat and the horrible singing. Maybe actually open your eyes and look around you Hiccup? he chides himself. Slowly, Hiccup lifts his lids a crack open, and what he glimpses sends his eyes flying wide open in shock. Where is he? Because this is definitely not his room, nor Gobber’s smithy, in fact this place looks like it doesn't belong anywhere near Berk or anywhere on Midgard.
Large dark metal supports rear up into a sky unlike anything Hiccup had seen, pitch black but at the same time aglow with tiny pinpricks of light, like fireflies, and great swathes of dusty looking clouds of colour that rivalled the luminescence the norðrljós, the northern lights. Surrounding him are large pieces of equipment that look vaguely familiar. A massive stone block twice the size of a man, with odd pipes twisting and extending out of it, most of the heat comes from there. A furnace – a freakishly large one. The pipes snake overhead attached to the dark supports, attaching themselves to a strange mechanism in the shape of a tube. Nearby there were multiple casts for all sorts of things, weapons, chains, and gods knew what else. This is a forge! Hiccup realises.
Everything is lit in a warm golden glow, but there were no sources of light Hiccup could see – no lanterns or torches or open fires. From the way the light lands on everything Hiccup realises it must be behind him whatever was making the light. Standing up he cautiously turns around. Before him is something to rival the beauty of the night sky above, it completely annihilated the sunsets and sunrises that Berk is blessed with. For floating before him is a ball of fire. Larger than all of Berk it seems, its surface sends out flaring bands of fire that brake away and dissipate in to the darkness surrounding it, Hiccup couldn’t believe his eyes. He could feel the heat radiating off of it on his face. How is this possible?
Hiccup’s moment of wonder, however, is broken suddenly by the sounds of shuddering footsteps approaching, to his dismay the poor singing becoming louder and closer. In a moment of panic Hiccup dives behind a large box, trying to quieten his panicked breathing, he prayed whatever it was, whoever it was, wouldn’t find him. The footsteps stop just on the other side of the box.
***
“An’ who are ye?”, a rumbling hearty voice calls out. Hoping against hope that whoever it is, is not talking to him, Hiccup cowers further into the box’s shadow. There’s the loud sigh, more like the sound of a gale force wind than anything else. “C’mon. I know ye know I can see ye. I ain’t gonna hurt ye - dependin’ on if yer here te steal anythin’ or not.”
Completely out of his depth, Hiccup slowly rises, for once he has no clue what do. Bearing down on him was a man, a man as thickly set as four Vikings standing side by side. Legs like sturdy old oak trunks, Hiccup just about reaches the man’s knees. He has to crane his neck back to look the man in the face, which is scarred, with a bushy beard to rival Stoic the Vast’s tied into a large plait that has its end tucked into the man’s belt, his hair is also tied messily out of the way. His clothes are smeared in grime from working in the forge for who knows how long, nothing is neat or even clean looking about him.
“Wh-who are y-you?”, Hiccup stammers, fiercely trying to hide his fear and failing miserably.
“I’m Brokkr”, he booms, “One of the Dwarfs of Nidavellir.”
“Oh”. Is all Hiccup can manage. Nidavellir? Why does that name sound familiar? He was in a forge, the biggest and most complicated he’d ever seen. A dwarf was standing in front of him – not trying to squish him. That’s nice of him. Hiccup mentally slaps himself. Focus, Hiccup! Why would he squash you, he has no reason to. That’s when it clicks, a forge with a giant being called a dwarf working in it, this is the legendary forges of the dwarfs called Nidavellir! The gods had their weapons forged here! This is amazing! If a dwarf wasn’t towering over him Hiccup might have actually started jumping in his excitement, this is the place all blacksmiths dream of.
“And ye are...?”, Brokkr prompts. Pulling Hiccup out of his reverie.
“Errr. H-Hiccup. A human. From... er... Berk.” Hiccup feels slightly foolish introducing himself like that but that’s how Brokkr had done it. Wait. Brokkr? That name also sounded familiar. Hiccup thinks back to all the times Gobber had told him stories about the mythical forges of the dwarfs, about how they made Gungir (Odin’s spear), Gleipnir (which bound Fenrir), and Mjolnir (Thor’s hammer). Who had he said made Thor’s hammer? Sindri and... Brokkr!
“You... made Thor’s hammer, didn’t you.” Hiccup says in awe, and then remembering another story. “And Freyr’s Golden Boar!”
“Tha’ was me. Mjolnir and Gullinbursti. With Sindri o’course.”
Hiccup stares unashamedly in wonder up at the towering dwarf before him. How is any of this possible? How had he unknowingly travelled to the Dwarves’ realm, when supposedly only wizards, witches and shamans could travel across the nine realms through Yggdrasil? How can he be talking to one of the dwarfs from those age-old stories? And why? Of all his questions this one felt like the answer would be the most important. Then a horrible thought occurred to him; if he doesn’t know how he had got here, how would he find his way home? It felt like suddenly being pushed into a river in mid-winter – you can't feel angry at your mutton-headed cousin because there's nothing to feel but shock at the literally freezing water that swallows you whole.
Seeing the look of wonder slowly morph into one of confusion and then one of utter horror Brokkr pats Hiccup's shoulder reassuringly with one of his hands, which feels like being barrelled over by a Gronkle. “Ah, don’ panic! Ye probably jus’ got a bit lost, is all. Tha’ happens on occasion, yer mind just wanders off an' withou' ye realisin’ it ye pop up ‘ere,” says Brokkr as if he could read Hiccup's mind. That doesn't really explain anything, Hiccup thinks. For starters why would his mind just wander off? And secondly, how would that even happen?!
“I- I'm not sure I understand...”, he says looking up into the tangled beard of the dwarf.
Brokkr peers down at Hiccup a light frown creasing his large brows, as he appears to think.
“How te explain it?”, he grumbles. “By no means am I an exper’ in these matters, but I migh' be able te give ye an idea o' wha' I mean.”
With a great scraping noise of wood on wood, Brokkr pulls a large stool over and sits heavily on it making the wood creak slightly. He pats the large crate Hiccup had been hiding behind motioning for him to also take a seat. Once settled Brokkr begins.
“So. Yer aware o’ Yggdrasil and the nine realms that it holds. Who rules what an' stuff?”
Hiccup nods, that was the basics of it, everyone knew all of that.
“An' ye know abou’ wizards an' bards, all o' that lot?”
“Yeah, we have a wise lady back at Berk, Gothi, she does that sort of thing – well she's more of our healer but she still does similar stuff to bards and wizards.”
Brokkr nods. “Well I bet she ‘as a wooden staff, doesn' she?”
Now Hiccup is confused, what does Gothi's walking (and talking) stick have to do with this? So he just nods slowly, unsure of where this could be going.
“Tha', small human, is likely a branch from Yggdrasil. I wouldn' be surprised if your Gothi uses it te travel the nine realms.”
Travel the... WHAT!? Gothi, old, bent and crooked Gothi, could travel the nine realms. Just like that? Hiccup could barely believe it. He knew things like that were possible, having heard legends of wizards, bards, and warriors traveling through the nine realms to epic battles against the Jotuns or great beasts – but those are legends, surely. A sudden image of Gothi sitting on her wooden staff flying through the heavens to all manner of different worlds pops into his head, his shoulders shake in a fit of laughter and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself bursting out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Like that would ever happen!
Brokkr looks down at Hiccup with a slight frown creasing his brows, the fact that he is so big though, with his wayward beard hiding half his face, makes the expression look a lot more frightening. Hiccup freezes at the sight. Oh, here we go, now you've gone and done it!
“Yeh don' believe me do yeh?”
Brokkr's voice is so thunderous that Hiccup finds it hard to tell whether he is angry at him or not for not believing him. He has to admit, it sounds very far-fetched.
“N-no – I mean! Errr... I it’s a a b-bit...” Damn that nervous stutter. Hiccup cringes under the unreadable glare of the dwarf, curling into himself slightly on the large crate, scared that he may have just sentenced himself to being squashed by the supposedly mythical man.
“Don' worry I’m not gonna hurt ye!”, Brokkr exclaims slightly exasperatedly, noticing Hiccup's more than frightened expression. “Yeh people are always ‘ssuming we dwarfs are as violent as those Jotuns!”
“S-ssso your... not going to squish me?” Might as well ask him out right, Hiccup decides.
“No! ‘Course not! I'm no' tha' ‘orrible!”
Thank the gods.
“I’ll try'n explain it diff’rently then. People like yer Gothi, can on'y travel between the diff'rent lands if their minds are in the righ' position.” Brokkr pauses to check whether Hiccup is following or not. The small human still seemed confused though so he tried to explain more. “Their minds need te be open te Yggdrasil. Sorta relaxed but focused at the same time. Spells, music, an' potions all ‘elp those who can't do it by themselves. When they're in tha' state tha's when the staffs, or branches o' Yggdrasil come in useful – the staffs ‘elp guide them to wherever i' is they want te go.”
“Right...” That sort of made more sense. Now that he thinks about it, Hiccup remembers at a special feast for one of the gods when Gothi had the musicians play an odd song and she had gone into a strange trance. After she came out of the trance, she had said that the god was grateful. At the time he hadn't really thought about it, he was small and Gothi was (and is) odd and scary, so he didn't question her – he didn't want to be smacked on the head with her staff. So did she actually ‘travel', as it were, to the god and actually talk to whoever it was? That is still difficult to wrap his mind around, but he is in Nidavellir talking to the dwarf Brokkr so he can't really say anything. There is one more question though.
“But how did I get here then?”
“Couldn' say. What de ye last remember?”
“Errr...” Now that is a good question. Hiccup had just assumed he was sleeping in bed, because he thought he was in bed when he awoke on the floor earlier. But now he actually thinks about it... he doesn't remember getting into bed, he can't even remember if it was night. Hiccup frowns, this was not particularly good. When he speaks his voice feels tight and slightly higher than usual.
“I don't know.”
The shock from not knowing how he got here or how to get back begins to unfreeze into a crushing panic that spreads from a sudden tight knot in his chest to his fingertips. He doesn't know! Oh gods. Oh godsgodsgods. The tight knot seems to grow, smothering his lungs, until breathing seems nearly impossible. Hiccup can't stop the rampage of what ifs that take over his mind; what if this is it? What if he is stuck here forever? Unable to ever see his Dad ever again. Never to see Astrid ever again. Toothless... No. He can't leave anyone on Berk! What if he died? And there is no way to return? The thoughts swirl around in a maelstrom until all that is left is a horrible roaring in his ears.
A big hand gently lands on his shoulder. Warm. Hiccup looks up to see Brokkr's large stone-grey eyes looking into his. They hold his gaze steadily, demanding calm. “No need te panic,” he says softly, his deep, gruff voice surprisingly lending itself to the reassuring tone. “We'll figure it ou', don' ye worry. Jus' take a deep breath. Tha's it. Like tha'.”
Hiccup lets his breath out slowly and draws another big breath in. The air, filled with its smells of burnt leather, fire, soot, and metals, calms him with memories of being in Gobber's forge, the one place that has consistently over the years been his safe haven. Even after his father and Berk changing. Brokkr pats his shoulder gently once again before standing up with a sigh of relief coming from the stool.
“Now,” Brokkr begins, seeing Hiccup calm down some, “I’m a thinkin' tha' we should ‘ave somefin to eat. We've been talkin' so long an' I ‘aven't even offered ye a drink yet - wha' does tha' say ‘bout dwarf hospitality, eh?”
Hiccup smiles gratefully up at the surprisingly understanding giant of a man. Brokkr really did remind him of Gobber now. That horribly off tune foghorn of a singing voice, with the frankly scary bodily appearance, and the sentimentality of a proud mother hen. It is like having his mentor here with him, keeping him calm and reassuring him that despite everything seeming like Hel it would all turn out just fine with a mind that works like his; “ye'll figure it out in no time ‘Iccup”.
He's about to say he isn't hungry, really, he should be focusing on how to return home, when his stomach makes itself known with an urgent grumble.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
***
Brokkr leads him through a winding maze of stuff. Honestly the place is almost as bad as Gobber's forge. Boxes full of almost everything you can think of are piled up along a pathway (which is coated in a thick layer of dirt), some spilling their contents so that Hiccup has to watch where he puts his feet lest he trips over. Equipment almost twice the size of what he is used to are also littered everywhere, he sees a hammer the size of his head balanced precariously on top of one crate, which is also balanced precariously on a beat-up anvil. The sight makes him chuckle. This is familiar. I might as well be back on Berk! That thought sobers him though. I wish was actually there...
They continue along the path until they reach a large arch, big enough for Barf and Belch to walk under without stooping their necks. Made of what looks like beech, it has carved patterns of interlocking ropes from its base up to the top, and set on well oiled hinges is a door that seamlessly incorporates wood and a metal that Hiccup can't for the life of him recognise into a beautiful mural depicting Yggdrasil. It seems to look like iron, but as Brokkr opens the door the light from a fire catches the metal and it shimmers in a truly unlikely mix of colours.
“What metal is that?”
“Eh?”
“On the door,” Hiccup clarifies.
“Ah ha! Now tha’ is a special metal.” Brokkr smiles, looking with a twinkle in his eye at the picture made of wood and metal. Before, that is, shutting the door and turning to the room they had just entered.
“Why's it special?” Hiccup asks. Following Brokkr as he goes to a large (and a little rudimentary, if Hiccup is being honest) cupboard and takes out two dishes, mugs and a spoon and knife for each of them.
“Ah, tha'ed be a trade secret.” Brokkr says mischievously. Of course. Hiccup, because he just can't help himself being curious, begins to ask again when the thought that; despite Brokkr being so nice earlier and seeming to want to help him he couldn't push his luck, this is a dwarf ten times his height and weight who probably had thousands of years experience in combat – who was he kidding, if he angered him enough Brokkr could possibly squash him with one hand if he felt so inclined. So instead Hiccup settles to biting his questioning tongue and following Brokkr to a sturdy and, yet again, large table set next to the fire pit. Setting down the eating implements Hiccup watches as Brokkr grabs two thickly stuffed cushions and places them on top of a bench draped in what could be sheep fur – if the sheep was the size of a Gronkle mind.
He pats them and motions for Hiccup to take a seat. “There ye go. Now ye sit down, an' I'll see wha' we've got in the stores.”
Its difficult clambering onto the top of the cushion mountain, and it wobbles unnervingly, but at least he can actually reach the table top. Without them his nose would have barely poked over the top. Hiccup takes a moment to look around himself. Compared to the forge outside it is surprisingly tidy and clean. Apart from the fire pit, table and its two benches either side, and the cupboard, there are several large backed seats (two of which are now missing a cushion each), a monster of a chest with a complicated looking locking system, and some random knickknacks placed on shelves. Everything seems to be either made of wood or metal or stone, and despite the more than big proportions it feels remarkably like home. Hiccup sighs.
For the love of Odin, how did he end up like this?
The question hangs limply in his mind, causing his shoulders to slump. Knowing him, whatever this whole adventure is, or more likely misadventure, it’s probably not going to end very well. He'll count himself lucky if he manages to get back home without the usual escapades following in his wake.
He's broken out of his self-pitying thoughts by Brokkr placing a heaving plate in front of him. Gods, did he expect him to eat all of that?! His dad would call that a generous helping, which translates into roughly three large portions with a little extra on the side. He could make this meal last days. Sitting proudly in the centre of his plate is a chunky cut of ham slathered in herbs, surrounded by a moat of thick gravy that has several potatoes and vegetables swimming in it, as well as a sizable wedge of bread. And just in case he is still hungry (as if) Brokkr places several other dishes in the middle of the table.
“Eat up. Ye all sticks an' bones, an' I don' want ye starvin' on my watch.” With that Brokkr thuds onto the bench opposite and digs into the meal himself. Admittedly, the food is delicious, and despite himself Hiccup ends up making his way through more of it than he thought he would. After several minutes of silent, if a little awkward, eating, Brokkr takes a long gulp of mead and sighs contentedly, using a grimy cloth to wipe away the smear of froth on his beard.
“Tha's better. Now tell me ‘bout yerself, ‘Iccup.”
Slightly surprised by the order, Hiccup blinks. Brokkr looks at him in such a meaningful way that Hiccup wonders how casual that casual question really is.
“Doesn’ hur' te be curious.” He smiles. Hiccup has to stop himself from saying “you have no idea”, thinking back to many, many instances where his own curiosity has landed him and his friends in trouble.
“Well...”, how would he describe himself? He suddenly realises how difficult it is to take a step back from yourself and look at your qualities, at who you are deep inside. Hiccup almost doesn't to, what if he finds something deep inside that he doesn't like or want to remember? He feels the words ‘I don't know' beginning to bubble up and pushes them down, something tells him Brokkr won't accept that as an answer unlike earlier – in fact, Hiccup isn't sure he would accept that as an answer either if he was asking the question.
So... who is he?
Leader of the dragon riders? Most days he can barely control half of them, and those are the good days. Heir to Berk? But he that's not him. And how is he supposed to run an entire village when running a base is so difficult? An explorer? A maker and inventor of things? That feels the most comfortable. He's a creative person, that much he will own up to. A person who loves the exhilarating feeling of flying, of going at speeds none other has ever gone at. Dragons. For the past few years his whole life has been devoted to learning everything he can about them. But those are things that he does or is supposed to do. No, he knows that what Brokkr is asking for is more than that. Behind those curious eyes he can see an age-old intelligence, someone like that would not just ask for what his favourite hobbies are. No, he muses, there is a bigger question behind this; he wants to know what makes Hiccup's inner workings tick.
In all honesty, over the past several weeks the thing that has kept him going is the knowledge that if he screws up and lets Viggo beat him he could be putting not only his friends and their dragons at risk, but Berk, the rest of the archipelago, and maybe the rest of Midgard too. He is terrified of taking one wrong move and for everything that he has built up over the past three (almost four) years to come crashing down around him.
The silence that pervades the room as Hiccup thinks and goes round in circles in his head becomes almost suffocating. Brokkr shifts and leans forwards, resting his elbows on the table top.
“Yeh know wha'? I've on'y known you, lad, for what? An hour? An' I can already see exactly who you are.”
Okay, that isn't scary at all. “Err, y-you can?”
“Yeh've go' a mind as sharp as any tool in me box, an' tha's no small compliment neither. I could see yeh thinkin' away like a regular wizard when we were talkin' ‘bout Yggdrasil earlier. Whilst some folk would ‘ave run at the sight o' me ye stood yer ground. Ye was clearly scared witless by me but look at ye now! Chat'ering and asking questions. Yeh've an appetite fer knowledge I see that.”
Brokkr stops here and gives Hiccup a long appraising look, before continuing in a warm tone. “But tha's not all is it though? Bein' alive so long, ye get a bit of an instinct fer readin' people. And what I've read from ye, ye are far more'n you seem to think you are.”
“H-How...?” Hiccup stutters in surprise.
“I’ve seen a few other people like ye, not many mind. Ye all ‘ave this way o' holdin' yerselves, like ye wan' to take up as lit'le room as ye can. Ye won't shout out ‘bout yer self, ye'll be quiet as a mouse, but in ‘ere and ‘ere,” Brokkr taps his chest and temple, “ye carry more'n yer fare share an’ will do anything for those yer ‘old dear.”
For a long moment all Hiccup can do is notice the feel of his cheeks flushing and stare at his hands held tightly in his lap.
“I'm righ' aren't I.” Brokkr states knowingly.
All Hiccup can do is give a short, almost guilty, nod.