38Sorry for the delay and thanks to all those that decided to Fav, Follow and review, you guys are the best.
Decisions
Stoick
It had been three days, only three days, but for Stoick it had felt like an eternity. He had felt every hour of those days slip passed with an agonising slowness, in those three days he had barely slept or eaten as again and again he paced the empty rooms of his house, the hollow echo of his footsteps ringing throughout the abandoned rooms of his home. Stoick was a shadow of his former self; his face was gaunt, his beard and hair unkempt, deep shadows rested beneath his bloodshot eyes and a general atmosphere of exhaustion now dogged his every step, but still he refused to rest.
He had only left the house once, with great reluctance; at the time he had been combing through the Book of Dragons which he had taken from the Meade Hall, looking for answers that he knew he would not find within its pages. He had been dragged from his enduring staring contest with the page that spoke of what little Viking's knew of the Night Fury when a sudden cry of panic rang from the village followed a few seconds later by the baritone scream of the dragon alarm. On instinct more than anything else he pulled himself from his chair by the dying embers of the hearth and grabbed the first weapon that came to hand, a war hammer, before barrelling through the front door. Instantly his eyes went to the night sky searching for the devils that sought to destroy his village, a part of him relishing the chance to unleash his wrath upon the winged demons, but only darkness met his eyes as he stared up at the clear expanse of the open sky above him. There was nothing, not even a Terrible Terror flew through the star speckled skies this night; confused he began to look for what had caused the previously quiet night to erupt in chaos. He didn't have to look far.
Small fires (well small when compared to the infernos a horde of fire breathing beasts could unleash) were slowly beginning to spread throughout the village and Vikings ran here and there not knowing what to do. Some, like Stoick, had just emerged from their homes carrying all manner of weapons ready to fight even as they rubbed sleep from their eyes or clambered through their front doors half dressed. Others rushed to grab water buckets in order to douse the growing pyres; the largest of which seemed to be fuelled by valuable supplies meant for repairs. One of the braziers had been lit and raised but the others remained dark, their precious fuel and kindling not being wasted.
As Stoick continued to stare a figure broke apart from the growing mass of villager's gathering in the main square and started to make its way up the hill towards him. As he grew closer Stoick could see it was Spitelout, his height and lack of beard making him easy to distinguish even in the dark.
"What's going on here?" even with the noise of the crowd and the load crackle of flames Stoick's voice easily carried over the village silencing many.
Spitelout stopped before him and took a moment to regain his breath; coughing slightly from the smoke that hung in the air. "From what I can tell it was a false alarm, the lads on watch heard a scream and saw the fires so they raised the alarm but…" he waved one of his great meaty hands over the village and Stoick could see for himself that there was no danger; already the fires were being brought under control, although in the distance he could make out the Thorston twins up to their usual antics, revelling in the chaos and hoping to create more.
With a sigh he turned away; he didn't have time to sort out this mess, "take care of this Spitelout" Stoick's tone was dismissive and final, he didn't even look back to see if Spitelout had carried out his order, he simply trudged back up the hill towards his home. His empty, dark and lifeless home.
He had just opened his door and was about to go inside when he heard a set of uneven footsteps running up behind him.
"Stoick!" Gobber wheezed as he reached his friend, even slightly out of breath the smith sounded concerned.
Stoick didn't turn back, didn't even acknowledge he had heard Gobber call his name, he simply went inside and slammed the heavy door shut with a final and resounding thud.
…
No one disturbed him for the rest of the night and when dawn finally broke he passed the morning in much the same manner as the night before, switching between roaming the empty rooms of his once warm home and tearing through the pages of the Book of Dragons; grabbing a few minutes sleep here and there when his eyes could no longer remain open. It was during one of these exhaustion driven naps that a knock came from the front door; shooting up from where his head had been resting on an open page Stoick stumbled as his neck cricked from the awkward position he had been sleeping in. Another knock came, louder this time, but Stoick ignored it choosing instead to focus on the table in front of him which was piled high with an assortment of maps, sea charts, report's on dragon sightings and at the centre of it all the Book of Dragons.
The knocking soon stopped and silence returned allowing Stoick to contemplate once more in peace all the horror that had befallen him that day in the arena, but not for long. The knocking returned; louder, stronger, more determined and endless.
After three minutes of listening to nothing but the incessant pounding on his front door Stoick finally gave in; he couldn't think with all this noise. With a snarl he rose from his chair with such a force that its legs screamed against the hard wood of the floor before the heavy ornate back tipped and crashed to the floor. In three strides he made it to the door and wrenched it open so fast that he was surprised he didn't rip it from its frame. The Viking on the other side was surprised as well; he was between knocks when Stoick opened the door and the sudden absence of the hard surface to bang his fist against caused the blond, grubby, one armed Viking to topple inside.
Gobber barely managed to dig his hook hand into the door frame and brace his hand against the floor in time to catch himself, with a grunt he quickly stood and tried to act like that hadn't just happened. Stoick did the same.
"What is it Gobber?" Stoick got straight to the point, his tone gruff and sharp clearly showing his irritation, but also his weariness.
"Nice to see you too Stoick" Gobber quipped and Stoick nearly groaned; he never had to wonder where Hiccup picked up his sarcasm. "We need to talk."
Stoick glared at the Smith; apparently slamming the door in his face last night had not been as clear a message as he had thought. "Not now Gobber." The words came out as a growl and Stoick was about to punctuate his statement with another slammed door when Gobber spoke.
"The arena is empty." He didn't say it loudly but for the effect it had Gobber may as well have shouted the words.
His only reaction to this news was a hoarsely whispered "what?"
Taking advantage of his sudden shock Gobber somehow managed to slip past the threshold, close the door and take a seat by the cold hearth; it was obvious the smith didn't plan on this being a short conversation.
After giving his surroundings a cursory look Gobber faced Stoick once more "I love what you've done with the place" more sarcasm, the irritation that rose from the comment was enough to snap Stoick out of his shock.
In a much stronger, steadier voice than before he asked "What do you mean the arena is empty?"
Gobber shrugged "exactly what I said; the arena is empty. The dragons are gone."
"How?!" so much anger bled through that one word but Gobber remained unfazed as he watched Stoick begin to pace, dragging his hand down his face trying to reign in his emotions.
When Stoick finally took his seat opposite his friend, Gobber spoke "I checked the cage doors, all of them…there was no damage, none of the hinges or lock systems have been melted or broken like you usually see when one of the beasts manage to break free." He paused, a look of regret hanging over him; telling Stoick that his friend did not wish to speak the next words, but he did. "It looks like someone set them free."
Silence hung between the two old friends and like the quiet before the storm there was no comfort to be drawn from its depths.
Like a thunder clap Stoick exploded; with a great roar he flipped the table against the far wall as though it was nothing more than a fragile leaf caught in the furious gale of a storm conjured by the wrath of Thor himself. Maps and other precious items were scattered about the room leaving it in chaos, the candle; which had been one of the few sources of light besides the weak sunlight that was barely able to filter through the closed shutters, was crushed beneath the heavy wood of the oak table plunging the room into semi darkness. "How can this be!? My own blood, my own so-"
Seeing the direction of his thoughts Gobber jumped in "we can't know for sure it was Hiccu-"
"Do not speak his name!...Who else would have done this?!"
Gobber took a step back and even in the gloom Stoick could see the look of pain flashing in the smiths' eyes but he soon controlled it and moved to say something else; Stoick refused to hear it.
"Who else knows about this?" Stoick managed to grit out before Gobber could say anything.
Looking resigned but not deterred Gobber answered. "It was Fishlegs that came and told me, he saw from the cliff path above the arena that the main gate and the cage doors were wide open. The lad was as hysterical as a ram that had just been caught between a Flightmare and a Monstrous Nightmare, he only stopped running when he barrelled right into me. When I got to the arena myself I noticed that Astrid had followed, so I told the two to close the gates and to keep their yaps shut; they're the only two that know."
Some of the tension bled away from Stoick's shoulders but it did little if anything to relax the strained atmosphere of the room. "Good, this situation can still be controlled; we can't have the rest of the village finding out about this, not after everything else that has happened." For a moment he paused and that was his mistake; for it gave Gobber the chance to circle back to the previously lost thread of conversation.
"By the looks of it it's most likely the beasts were set loose at some point during the night; had it happened during the day someone would a seen them flying off…If it were Hiccup-"
"There is no 'IF' about it" Stoick snapped; his temper held by a thread, but it was fraying.
"Fine!" Gobber snapped straight back "let's say for the moment it was Hiccup, that also means he didn't let the dragons attack the village."
"What?" Stoick was slightly thrown by the sudden direction their talk had taken; Gobber saw it and he pushed on, pressing his advantage.
"You weren't there for most of the training. You never saw how he commanded the beasts; one day he would have a Gronckle practically comatose as soon as the damn thing got within 3 feet of him, the next he would have the Zippleback refusing to even come out of its cage and face him."
"Your point?" Stoick honestly had no idea where Gobber was trying to go with this.
"My point is, had those lizards got out of their cages on their own they would of headed straight for the village. We've seen it before, they'd have ripped right through the centre of the village and gone on a rampage before taking off or being taken down, but they didn't…" He let his statement hang in the air for a moment.
"…maybe he's found something. A way of controlling the dragons..."
Gobber didn't know; no one living knew that these words were the last that should ever be spoken in front of Stoick the Vast.
The moment he heard them he couldn't do anything to stop the images playing before his eyes. The darkened walls of his house faded away to be replaced by shadowed Demon's clad in metal armour that was almost melded to their scales. Fires burning so bright and hot they melted stone as the roof and walls came down around him crushing men like ants and amidst the smoke, donning a cloak of dragon skin a mad man stood tall; laughing at the carnage.
"Get out!"
For a moment Gobber froze, taken aback by the suddenly reignited anger in Stoick's tone, but then the stubborn set came to his jaw like it always did when he was preparing for an argument. "Stoick-"
"GET OUT!" The roar echoed off the empty walls of the room and was followed by the sound of breaking wood as Stoick slammed his fist into a support beam, cracking the carved wood and drawing blood as the splinters dug into his clenched fist.
Reluctantly Gobber left, but before the door closed behind him he managed to leave Stoick with one last thing to think about.
"No matter what he's done Stoick…he's still your only son."
…
The morning of the fourth day rose and with it came a village wide summons to a meeting in the Meade hall. As always with such gatherings there was much muttering and a lot of speculation as to what was going on; from the logical suggestion that it was intended to discuss preparations for the approaching winter, to the ridiculous that Snotlout was going to be named the new heir (three guesses where that idea came from.)
The population of Berk slowly filled the wide expanse of the hall, flooding in like a wave crashing up the beach, filling up all available space and jostling for position around the wide oval table that took up the centre of the room.
Through it all Stoick remained seated at the head of the table; silent and intimidating. He no longer resembled a wraith that had dragged itself from the gates of Hel, the only remnant of his former exhausted appearance were the dark circles beneath his eyes that had yet to fade, however the stormy grey eyes that only spoke of cold rage were the clearest sign that on this day Stoick was not to be tested.
He didn't even acknowledge Gobber or Spitelout as they took up their positions either side of him.
Stoick kept his eyes focused forward, his hands folded before his face and his elbows resting on the table; simply waiting as the last villager squeezed past the heavy oak doors of the entrance just before they shut with a booming thud. Even this did not silence the gossiping Vikings, their low murmurs gradually building into shouts as each sought to be heard above the other. Their talk only ceased when Stoick finally moved.
The sudden silence that descended across the hall as he stood only added to the imposing atmosphere that seemed to cling to the Chief, giving an edge of silent ferocity that was more terrifying than a charging Monstrous Nightmare fully clad in flame. When he spoke his voice easily carried across the ancient hall.
He addressed the crowd at large "I will not keep you here long, there are only a few matters that need be discussed this morning" seeing that he had every Vikings attention he continued. "The first matter is the current training of this years' recruits; after the disastrous events of the final test there shall be no more Dragon Training this year." Immediately there was an outcry from the younger generation; groans of disappointment, shouts of disbelief and calls of how it was "unfair" mingled together to create an undecipherable din.
"Silence!" the group instantly grew quiet allowing Stoick to continue. "Gobber and the Elder will decide, based upon your previous performance within training, which of you; if any, are worthy of defending the village. The rest will continue their training next year but for now will return to their fire watch duties…The dragons in the arena have already been dealt with."
Pausing for a moment to see if anyone would dare to try and complain again Stoick met the gaze of each young Viking and was unsurprised to see they did not, though he was surprised when his gaze fell upon the Hofferson girl and for a brief moment he thought he saw…relief? He wasn't sure, the emotion was replaced with her usual serious glare so quickly that he concluded he must have been mistaken.
"Secondly; with the recent damage to our armada, the reports of encroaching sea ice from the north and with no method of navigating the perpetual mist surrounding Helheim's Gate there will be no searches for the Nest until the spring thaw. At this time we must focus on the coming winter, our stocks are already low and we must prepare our defences; we cannot afford to lose anything else to those demons."
A collective sigh of relief swept across the room at this announcement, the villagers were still reeling from the last in a long line of failed attempts to find the Nest and Stoick could not afford his warriors moral to sustain another blow. For now they would rest, focus on their defences and gathering strength.
"Finally…" Stoick hesitated, a deep feeling of regret and sadness welling up from his stomach at what he was about to do, but it was soon overwhelmed by the furious anger that had possessed him since that day in the arena…since his sons' betrayal. "…from this day forth Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the III is stripped of his title as Heir. He is to be labelled a traitor to the Hairy Hooligan Tribe and should he ever dare to return to these shores he is to be captured alive, if possible, so he may be tried before the God's for his betrayal…"
All of a sudden the quiet of the Meade Hall turned into indistinguishable noise as the crowd burst with questions and wild speculation. This had never been done before, it was unprecedented in the history of the Hairy Hooligan tribe, so the uproar of the crowd was not unexpected.
Stoick felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to the side to see Gobber not only looking concerned but shocked as well, ignoring his friend Stoick brought his fist down upon the table in order to gain his audiences attention. When quiet had once again fallen he spoke "…as a result the title of Heir shall pass to Snotlout Jorgenson as per the laws of our tribe, he shall retain this title until he takes his position as Chief or loses this title in a Right of Challenge. The Right of Challenge may not be invoked until after his sixteenth name day." He gave the gathered crowd a moment for the news to sink in before he continued "This meeting is over!"
Ever so slowly, one by one the crowd began to filter out of the hall, to disperse into smaller groups and go about their business or more likely to gossip about what had just happened, Stoick saw Spitelout start to move but stopped him "Spitelout, bring your boy back here in an hour; there's some matters of the succession to discuss." His brother in law still seemed a little shocked by Stoick's announcement but he managed to nod just before he left.
Finally the hall was empty, or so Stoick thought.
"Do you have any idea what you have just done?" Gobber's voice was disturbingly calm but the dark glare that marred his features spoke of the Smiths barely controlled rage.
Stoick was about to speak but Gobber kept going. "Wait, don't answer that cause obviously you don't. So let me sum it up for ye. Not only have you placed the future of the village on the shoulders of a boy; who has about as much sense as a Frost Giant that thinks it would be a grand idea to take a bath in an active volcano." Here Gobber paused for dramatic effect before continuing "but you've also basically all but condemned your only SON, to death!"
Gobber's words reverberated off the stone pillars throughout the hall, echoing again and again until they finally faded into nothing.
The silence that stood between the two old friends that were as close as brothers' was broken by four simple words.
"I have no son."
Hiccup
The sun was rising on a new day, lighting up the skies and chasing away the shadows that had dominated the night; save for one.
Like a wraith Toothless flew just above the cover of the clouds; his black wings absorbed the suns' rays as he basked in its dawning glow, soaking up the heat. Through the stray gaps that appeared in the dense cloud coverage he and his rider could catch snatches of the sea below and the odd rocky outcrop and volcanic vents that passed for an island this far out to sea.
"All right bud, we've been taking it easy for the last few hours; what do you say to one last sprint before we call it quits?"
Toothless tilted his head back so he could see his rider, Hiccup couldn't help but laugh when he saw the excited spark that entered the Night Fury's green eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes." Hiccup shouted over the howling wind.
A nod was all the warning Toothless gave him before folding his wings, a mere second after Hiccup shifted his weight and pushed down with his heel causing the prosthetic tail to fold; increasing their speed and giving Toothless complete control for the brief time that they fell. Feeling the drag from his tail fade Toothless took full advantage: with a slight adjustment to the position of his right wing he caught the breeze and sent himself and Hiccup tumbling through the clouds.
Hiccup tightened his hold on the hand grips of the saddle so hard that he could feel his fingers leaving an imprint in the hard leather. With the sheer strength of the wind whipping past them as they fell tears began to gather in Hiccup's eyes, but he barely noticed as a cry of pure exhilaration ripped from his chest.
Only when they could feel the ocean spray against their skin did they pull out of their dive. As Toothless pulled his head back and began to spread his wings Hiccup got ready to take control once more. Toothless' wings unfurled and they were thrown back into the open sky; though not before Toothless' front legs clipped the cresting waves causing Hiccup to get splashed straight in the face.
Even chocking on sea water Hiccup was still able to laugh.
"So that's how you want to play it?" Hiccup teased as he wiped his soaked bangs from his forehead.
Toothless looked up at Hiccup over his shoulder, looking a little too smug in his rider's opinion.
"Okay bud, but remember; you're the one that started this." Before Toothless even had a chance to look confused Hiccup had rolled his weight onto the ball of his foot locking the prosthetic tail into a position that forced Toothless to descend. The pair dived towards the sea and Hiccup only unlocked the tail, allowing Toothless to pull up when they were inches from the freezing water's.
A growl which could only be described as an indignant yelp escaped the young dragon when a wave broke against his snout, splashing salty water in his mouth and nose.
"You had enough?" Hiccup chuckled, but his laughter soon died. "Toothl-GLEBURH!" before he could even finish calling the Night Fury's name Toothless folded his wings and dove beneath the oceans waves.
…
"I hope you're happy now." Hiccup said rather sullenly as he hammered a second forked stick into the sand next to a roaring fire.
Toothless looked up from cleaning the scales on his forelegs; he took one look at the sopping wet and naked from the waist up Hiccup before devolving into a fit of laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Hiccup had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over Toothless' deep guttural laugh. "Just so you know; you have now lost any chance of me helping you get the salt out from between your scales. Congratulations."
Toothless simply gave a huff and went back to cleaning his scales, but Hiccup could tell by the way his ears twitched down that Toothless wasn't as unfazed as he was trying to appear.
Hiccup just ignored him and returned to what he had been doing. Checking to see that both the sticks were stable Hiccup balanced a relatively straight stick between them, he then proceeded to hang every piece of clothing he had brought with him over it. Well almost every piece; luckily his trousers had dried off quickly enough from the combined heat of the morning sun and the fire he had started on the beach.
Mournfully Hiccup inspected his brown bear's skin vest; even after rinsing it with his other clothes under the cool clear water of a small waterfall that cascaded down one of the cliffs that surrounded the bay the garment still seemed beyond salvation. Clumps of sodden fur appeared irredeemably tangled together and even after a third rinse the vest still smelled heavily of the sea. He rang it out once more trying to get as much water out of it as possible before hanging it on the stick to dry with the rest of his clothes. He still remembered the night he had first gotten the vest: he had been sitting by the fire with the rest of the kids his age, all of them no older than seven at the time, listening to one of Gobber's many tales. One of his many exaggerated tales.
Being mid-winter Hiccup was unsurprised when a glacial wind blew through the village, sending a cold shiver down his spine even though he sat so close to the fire. He was surprised however when he felt something heavy fall upon his small shoulder's.
Looking back he saw thick brown fur where before there had only been his usual green shirt, but before he has time to process what he was seeing his attention was stolen by the imposing looking figure standing above him: his father.
"That should keep the chill at bay." His father had said with a soft smile. A smile that Hiccup could count the number of times he had seen it on one hand and still have fingers to spare. At that moment he didn't question his father he merely huddled down further into what he now realised was his father's cloak and soaked up the lingering warmth.
When the stories were finally finished and everyone was returning to their homes Hiccup had tried to return his father's cloak but his father had merely given him a gentle pat on the back and ushered him towards the house.
"You'll grow into it soon enough son" was all his father had said.
His father had been wrong of course but Hiccup still looked upon that moment as one of his most treasured memories. Eventually Hiccup had turned the cloak into his trademark vest after he realised that he would never have his father's impressive build. A large expanse of left over fur still hung in his workshop in the back of Gobber's shop; several times he had woken after falling asleep at the workbench to find the cloak draped over his shoulders, though he never asked; he knew it was Gobber's doing.
Shaking his head so he wouldn't dwell on his memories Hiccup reached for his pack. Even with all his clothes out drying the woven basket was still pretty full; a few choice smithing tools took up most of the space and also accounted for most of the weight but these weren't what he was looking for at the moment (he'd have to make sure he properly cleaned and oiled them all later, to stop them from rusting). Just as he was about to resign himself to tipping the packs contents out onto the sand before him he found what he was looking for, right at the bottom trapped beneath the handle of a hammer that had wedged itself at an odd angle. Turning it over in his hands he examined the journal and was relieved to find that the oilskin that bound the book had done its job and kept the sea water from ruining the pages, maps, drawings and schematics it contained. He made a mental note to look into lining the inside of his basket with oilskins or something similarly effective. Taking out the map he unfolded it and took a second to inspect his work thus far; in the middle sat a detailed sketch of Berk and almost directly south laid a somewhat less detailed sketch of the Red Death's lair. (A never ending cover of mist made it kind of hard to get an idea for the geography of an area). These were the two largest islands depicted on his hand sketched map so far but they were by no means the only. Spreading out from Berk in the centre, several smaller islands dotted the ever growing patchwork of pages; in the last seven days since he and Toothless had left Berk they had managed to travel farther and faster than Hiccup could have imagined. So far they had mapped out over twenty different islands, Hiccup was glad to note that most of the dragons that had flown away during his and Toothless' raid on the Red Death's lair had chosen to settle on these isles instead of returning.
At the thought of the Red Death's lair he couldn't stop his hand unconsciously moving towards the now exposed wound on his back. It was healing nicely and he didn't think his impromptu salt water bath had made it any worse, though it was stinging quite a bit, he was still going to keep it bound; just until the scabs stopped cracking every time he moved.
Reaching into the bag Hiccup fished out a roll of fresh linen (thankfully the leather bag he kept his medical supplies in had kept most of the water out) and set about idly binding his back and left shoulder while his eyes still roamed the map, working out the size and location of the island he and Toothless were currently on in relation to the ones they had already recorded. After a few minutes, when his hands were once again free he drew out a fresh sheet of paper and began sketching. He had only just gotten the basic outline of the island finished when he felt a sudden pressure on his head.
"Toothless!" the indignant yell barely made it out before Hiccup found himself pinned beneath the Night Fury.
"Toothless! Oh come on! What are you-argh!" Hiccup tried to wriggle his way free but Toothless had his legs trapped. Satisfied that his rider would not be able to escape Toothless began rubbing his chin against the top of his riders' head, which left Hiccup rather confused…until he figured out what the Night Fury was trying to do.
"My hair is not a brush to clean your scales!"
In reply Toothless simply licked him before going back to using Hiccup's hair to remove the irritating salt crystals that had formed between his scales.
"Okay! Okay! I'll help! Just stop. For the love of Thor stop!" With a triumphant huff Toothless finally let the young Viking go.
Scrambling to his feet Hiccup scooped up a hand full of sand and tried to wipe away the dragon spit that now clung to his face and hair. It wasn't long before he noticed Toothless curled around his feet nudging at his knee as he waited for Hiccup to get to work.
"Yeah, yeah you lazy lizard, I know" with a resigned sigh he retrieved a bristle brush and started working out the salt between the Night Fury's scales, from the contented purr and the way Toothless' ears would occasionally flick it was apparent that having his scales cleaned had quite the relaxing effect on the dragon.
So relaxing in fact that before Hiccup new it Toothless was asleep, unsurprising; they had been flying most of the night, just as they had every night since they left Berk (it had seemed kind of a waste to travel during the day when Toothless could literally disappear into the shadows of the night) .The Viking had half a mind to join his friend but he still had some stuff to do; like finishing his map.
A few minutes later he inspected the finished sketch, it was as he looked over the clean, detailed lines that depicted the island he was currently sitting on that he noticed something rather interesting. The beach which he now sat on was the only way to access the island by sea; the rest of the island consisting of sheer cliffs surrounded by sharp rocks and shallow reefs that made it impossible for any ships to get close. The waters just off the beach weren't much better; a relatively deep clear water lagoon ended in an almost wall of jagged towering sea stacks with only a few gaps that would prove impossible for anything larger that a two man boat to navigate through. In other words… it was perfect.
So far they hadn't been attacked by anything, dragon or otherwise, the topography of the island made it easily defendable (war strategy had been one of the very few things he had never failed at as the Heir of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe). There were plenty of Natural materials he could use to build himself a shelter (a poor description of the design that was already forming in his mind) and there was a ready supply of fresh water in the form of natural springs that dotted the island.
The location of the island was also an advantage; barely half a days' flight from Berk, a journey that would take two days by ship even with a fair wind. It was also close to several of the islands he had seen the fleeing dragons' settling on.
It would be a lot of work with just him and Toothless, building a forge would be one of his first priorities as the small number of tools he had managed to bring with him wouldn't be enough to help construct the ambitious structure that was already coming to life within his mind. Picking up his journal once more he turned to a clean page, only to pause when he realised he had not yet named the island.
In a stroke of inspired irony Hiccup quickly wrote two words at the top of the page:
Muspelheim's Gate.
Muspelheim, one of the nine worlds connected by the tree Yggdrasil; said to be a realm of fire ruled by a black demon. It seemed fitting.
Finishing his preliminary sketch Hiccup tucked his journal away before checking the fire, once he was sure it wouldn't go out for at least a few hours he then turned to check that the clothes he had set out to dry weren't going to catch fire. Having done this he all but crawled back to where Toothless lay fast asleep and set himself down next to his friend, within seconds of his eyes closing Hiccup was asleep.
…
When Hiccup opened his eyes it took a moment for his mind to process what he was actually seeing. He could only have been asleep for a few hours at most so when he looked up only to see darkness he was understandably confused. The confusion soon cleared when he felt a gust of hot, rather pungent breath sweep through his hair and he turned to come face to face with a still sleeping Toothless.
Looking up once more he realised that the darkness he was seeing was not the night sky as he had first assumed but the black membrane of Toothless' wing; a wing that was stretched over him protecting him from the elements. Shifting Hiccup tried to slowly manoeuvre his way from beneath his friends' colossal wing without waking him but he realised he'd failed when the appendage above him moved to reveal the noon day sun.
"Sorry bud, didn't mean to wake you." In response all Hiccup got was an unamused look and a yawn as Toothless stretched; spreading his wings and looking very much like a cat as he extended his legs and arched his back. With that done he shook the excess sand from his scales and headed off to a shaded rocky plateau, finding what Hiccup assumed must have been a comfy spot Toothless circled once, then again this time breathing fire onto the flat rock as he moved. Satisfied he settled down on the slightly glowing rock, curling his tail and folding his wings lightly around him, within seconds the soft rumble of Toothless' snores could be heard echoing off the nearest cliff face.
With an exasperated sigh that was more a repressed laugh Hiccup went to check on his clothes and the fire, more than happy to let his friend sleep.
The fire by this time had burned down to embers but it had done its job well, with a relieved smile Hiccup pulled on one of his freshly dried shirts and quickly changed into a clean pair of trousers; glad to be rid of the half maddening itch that the dried salt had created.
He was about to place another log on the still glowing bed of embers, but whilst walking past his make shift clothes line his hand brushed against his fur vest which still hung off the stick. Dropping the log, careful to avoid the hot cinders that flew skywards in its wake, he bent to inspect the garment. He spent a few moments simply staring at it but all too soon he came to a decision.
Picking up the vest he turned towards the fire which burned fiercely once more, he paused, the fur resting in his arms hovering just above the reach of the flames…and then he dropped it.
Almost instantly the fur caught, black smoke rising from its curling form as blue and lavender tinged flames ate away at it.
Hiccup quickly turned his back on the sight, choosing instead to focus on what his future held…not the past.
AN: Thanks to everyone for reading, now please for the love of Freya: REVIEW!