Undertaker33
patreon
Tempered Flames: Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2020-01-17 03:41:25 +0000 UTC“We should wait for first light,” Gobber advised.
The village chief’s reply was a terse, “No.”
Gobber shook his head, his heavy accent exasperated. “Stoick, be reasonable. All they’ll find down there are chunks of meat and metal. They don’ even know what they’re lookin’ for.”
“We were just attacked, Gobber,” Stoick growled.
He moved forward on the high rock, looking over the edge. Small teams hung from ropes, using torches to light their way as they descended down the sheer cliff. Three longboats were interspersed at the bottom with high hoisted lanterns. They couldn’t get close enough due to the sharp rocks that marked the island’s edge.
“No, we weren’t.” Gobber came up beside him, looking down. “Look at tha’. If we’d been attacked, that’d be the village. Not this cliff.”
Stoick turned on him. “Did you see the size of that explosion? Thor’s hammer, the Great Hall nearly came down on our heads.”
Gobber returned a flat look. “It’s my hand that’s gone, I still got eyes. That’s why I can see they’re wasting their time.”
“So what should I have them do?” the chief asked. “Sit on their thumbs?”
“Until daylight, yes,” Gobber grunted. “None of them go round these cliffs. If anything’s left, they won’t even see it, and when they look in the morning they won’t be as through cause they already looked.”
Stoick let a long breath out into the night air and just watched.
Five men were crawling over the edge with their waists secured by the ropes. There wasn’t single foothold on the sloped wall, running clean down to the edge as if it’d been hewn with Odin’s own spear. But Stoick knew his people. If they did nothing for hours, they’d panic, and give way to mayhem. Not all were as level-headed as his advisor.
“We keep looking,” he decreed. “There has got to be something. Something left over. I don’t understand what manner of beast could even generate that.”
There was the muted sound of leather boots upon rock as another approached. Stoick glanced over recognizing the quorum of approaching teenagers.
Snotlout led them, followed by Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and Fishlegs at the rear looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
Each of the teens had grown in their own ways.
Dark haired and broad shouldered, Snotlout had become a pretty respectable Viking… even if he still needed to get his personality checked. He hadn’t lost nearly enough fights to be smart, but he made up for it by keeping a strong head and stronger threshold for pain.
The twins, meanwhile, were not quite there yet. Tuffnut seemed like he was trying, at least more than his sister, but they both still fell short. The boy would at least spar with others and work a bit on learning the art of axe play, but the only person Ruffnut ever spared with was her brother, and it showed. She’d grown practically plump while Tuffnut remained awkwardly lanky. Even at 18 years old, they looked like they were still growing into their bodies, and their knack for laziness wasn’t going to help them.
Meanwhile, Fishlegs looked like an absolute monster, but unless it was provoked, he was as soft as a sheep. Still as inexperienced as a young blonde boy, he had almost no real training in anything outside of a book. He was an emotional fighter, which could be as dangerous to have on your side as they’d be against you. He’d so much knowledge committed to memory, if only he could utilize it in order to think.
Each of the four needed some form of release. They needed to grow, but more important than that they needed to be trained.
And they’d just been robbed of their promised training.
Snotlout held the torch higher, not speaking. He looked over the edge of the cliff, at the empty area that had held the arena.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Fishlegs said, fidgeting anxiously. “The size of that explosion, i-it has to have been some form of-”
“Dragon,” Snotlout cut him off. He came closer and looked past the edge. “A gigantic dragon. It must have been.”
An idea came to Stoick as he watched Ruffnut hold her hand over her nose. Perhaps they could still be taught something from this. “What does it smell like to you?” he asked them.
Ruffnut answered first. “It’s like… rotten cabbage.”
“It’s sulfur,” Fishlegs responded. “The limestone and granite that made up the cliffs can’t catch fire. They were blown apart.”
Stoick nodded. “That’s right,” he said, turning back to the destruction. He pointed down at the smooth rock where another man hung. “Look at that. It wasn’t burned, nothing could melt all the way down to that. Which means?”
“That it wasn’t a dragon?” Snotlout asked.
“No,” Fishlegs responded before Stoick could. “It means that the explosion had to come from inside the cliff.”
“There ya are,” Gobber approved. “Seein with your eyes, now. Even as hot as a dragon can go, you’ll always see the burns of the fire. Somethin’ had to trigger it to blast, which is what we’re lookin’ for.”
“Sooooo we can go home then?” Ruffnut asked.
“Now don’t be so hasty, lass,” Gobber hefted his hands. “If we’re out here doin’ work, all of you are gonna be pullin’ your own weight. Right Stoick?”
“Go home,” came the leader’s reply.
“Yes, go ho- what?” Gobber broke off from his self-assurance.
Stoick turned back to the group. “Go back to the village. Tell the others there’s nothing to worry about, and that the danger has passed.”
“That’s not fair!” Snotlout complained. “We want to help. We can… um…” he trailed off.
“There’s nothing else that can be done,” Stoick shook his head. “Not until we find out what caused the detonation.”
A clatter of stone came from the shadows behind. The group looked up to see a blonde Viking sliding down the slope of the overlook, balancing her weight perfectly on her legs. She hit the bottom in a jog, moving over to the group.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where’s Hiccup??”
Stoick’s brow creased. “Hiccup?” Then his heart thumped in his chest and he turned back to the arena.
Hiccup had vanished the night before. A flight of fear turned over in his head, the unnatural panic of a father who realized his missing son. Was it possible he’d come here?
“Has he not been here yet?” Astrid asked. “We were up in the forest…” she pointed back up the cliff. “He vanished after the explosion, I thought he was coming here.”
Relief came to him quickly replacing the chill. If Astrid had been with him, he was likely safe.
“He probably ran off,” Ruffnut spoke up.
“Heh, yeah,” her brother chuffed. “He probably ran away, not towards.”
Astrid shot them a dirty look. “And I’m surprised you two even got out of bed. Did Snotlout drag you out here again?”
“No!” they both denied.
“Yes,” Snotlout smugly smirked. “And they forgot their axes too.”
“Hey, you know mine’s not done yet!” Ruffnut complained.
“Whatever!” Astrid puffed irately. “Stop giving Hiccup a hard time!”
“We wouldn’t if he was here,” came the cold reply. “Look at Fishlegs, he’s shaking and even he’s here.”
“I am not shaking!”
“Enough!” Stoick’s voice roared loud enough that one of the Vikings hanging on the cliff dropped his torch, fearful of another explosion. “All of you! Return to the village. Now.”
They looked at him, and he felt fresh anger when he saw defiance in some of their eyes.
But slowly, each of them looked away, frustrated but compliant, and began to walk along the path back. Snotlout passed the torch to Fishlegs and thumped him on the back, directing him towards the front.
Astrid lagged behind. She looked back to Stoick and said, in a voice low enough only Gobber and he could hear, “I’m sure he’s coming…” and then she left.
Stoick sighed. He turned his back to them. “I wish I could be so sure,” he said to himself.
Gobber coughed.
They stood in silence for a few minutes before his advisor spoke.
“They need direction, Stoick.”
“I know.”
“They need training.”
“I know, Gobber.”
“And now we don’ have any dragons. Don’ even have an arena, and if they spar with one another they’re’s likely to end up sliced as disciplined.”
That word struck inside of Stoick like a hammer to his breastplate. Discipline.
The ghost of memory flickered through his mind. A foreign man with light olive skin with close cropped gray hair. The dragon slayer with the bronze short sword.
“Adoramus…” Stoick whispered, remembering the man’s name.
He looked to the south east.
“Gobber, do we still have the maps in the library?” he asked.
Gobber stroked his chin. “Hmm, well I don’ think maps would vanish.”
“Don’t be smart with me,” Stoick turned and began making his way back towards the village. “Let’s go.”
“But one of us should at least try to be!”
******************************************************************************
Hiccup watched the cliff searchers as they pulled themselves in. They were wasting their time. The Skrill wouldn’t leave anything for them to find, and the escaped dragons were already gone. He’d been watching them for some time, had gotten there just after they had begun their decent, and had watched the other teens return to the village, with his father shortly after.
It was honestly really boring. He wished he could peruse The Book of Dragons, try to identify that last mysterious dragon that had appeared in the sky. But the shine of the moon wasn’t bright enough, and he didn’t dare to light a torch up on the ridge. Not when Toothless was laying with his big head resting on Hiccup’s lap.
He scratched his dragon in the fine little spot behind his ears that made the dragon’s black leg thump happily, just watching the workers. The boats had begun to move off, and the men were now helping one another up. Finally satisfied that none of the Vikings were in danger of falling, he finally allowed himself a bit of relief.
“Alright, bud. I gotta go down and talk with them. You gonna head back home?”
Toothless lifted his head and let out a deep yawn. He blinked sleepily at Hiccup before thunking his head back onto his lap.
“Yow! Hey, come on!” Hiccup laughed, lifting himself out from beneath the dragon. “I gotta turn in. We can play more tomorrow.”
Toothless opened and closed his mouth as if to mime him before raising back onto his forelegs and topple backward onto his back.
Hiccup snorted. “Alright, you sleep wherever you want. I’ll be back in the morning.”
Toothless kicked a foot in the air and, dismissed, Hiccup slid down the slope carefully positioning his weight on his backside. He jogged over to the group as they were gathering their supplies and, after a brief scare, learned that they’d found nothing on the cliff face. Not even scorch marks.
He headed back to the village with them, where most folks had already returned to their homes and, in turn, returned to his own.
Hiccup went up to his room on the second floor before upending his satchel on the table. He contemplated pouring over the book but, given that a few hours ago he was planning on running away, Hiccup felt suddenly and immensely tired.
Still, he found time to appreciate the gift he’d been given. The leather strap of the shield fit perfectly to his arm, and when he spun around it felt properly weighted and perfectly set. However, it was simply looking at it that gave him the most pleasure. He kept remembering Astrid’s pink face after she’d given it to him. It made his chest feel light and warm just thinking about it. He took it from his table and moved it to his bed, leaning it up against the wooden frame.
‘Forged in fire’, he thought to himself, picturing Astrid saying it. It made his smile grow even wider.
He stripped off his jerkin before settling into the bed with another deep yawn. Tomorrow. It was easy to say, he’d just handle all of his stuff when it was time to tomorrow.
******************************************************************************
Astrid couldn’t sleep.
At first, it was out of frustration. She’d wanted to hit Tuffnut on the way back, but only cause she’d have felt bad about smacking Ruffnut in the face. They always tried to bully Hiccup, ever since they were kids. Hadn’t any concept that they were all in this together, and that Hiccup would one day be chief seemed to just roll right off of them.
Sure, they claimed they were excited for dragon training, but Tuffnut was probably just hoping to get away from his insufferable sister. Astrid knew that it was him trying to get her to build the new axe.
And then Snotlout went and agreed with them! On the way back he’d asked her why she thought he’d run away from her! She’d hardly any memory of the blast, but a part of her was sure he’d been on his feet and moving before she could even untangle herself from the bush.
Then, the frustration turned inward. You criticize Ruffnut for being soft, yet you were absolutely floored. When she stripped off her leather clothes and stood in front of a bedroom mirror, she was unable to deny it. The curve of her breast, the width of her hips. She could hardly see the muscle beneath her skin. She’d been getting soft, herself.
And now… they had no dragons.
Astrid thunked onto the bed, groaning loudly at the thought of trying to spar with Fishlegs again. The man was the size of a cow and less helpful than one in a fight. And Snotlout was still more obsessed with proving he was the strongest than he was with helping the others. It made her stomach turn.
Astrid lived in an empty house. The single candle she had in her room gave it a familiar glow, but the young girl was bothered more and more by how cold the house felt all by herself. She missed living with people. Had even considered adopting one of the sheep just to have someone to talk to.
Instead, she spent her time pacing back and forth in her underwear until her frustrations puttered out and she flopped onto her bed.
Her tummy growled.
“No,” she groaned.
It gurgled impatiently.
“Are you serious? I just laid down.”
Another rumble sent her down to the kitchen.
Astrid grumbled to herself about a midnight snack “Definitely not helping…” her dietary issue, but even so she reached into the wooden cupboard. Her hand thumped around until she found a small box that had been lined with leather. She opened it, revealing the honey glazed dough that had been deep fried in imported oils, and hungrily munched on a pair, wondering where Hiccup had actually gone to.
Her appetite satiated, she climbed back up the stairs to her room, and then sat on the edge of her bed, wishing the sun would just hurry up.
She laid down then, swaying from side to side to try and get comfy, but unable to. She felt helpless in her inability to act. At the forefront of her mind she knew that something was happening, something that would be huge for all of them, but she could do nothing about it.
If they couldn’t do dragon training, then what would they do? They’d been promised this for years. Every Viking in the Hairy Hooligan Tribe endured Dragon Training. It was one of the things that unified them. There was unending pride in being able to face a dragon, head to head, and come out the winner. The slayer!
What were the people of Berk if not dragon slayers?
Astrid found herself grumbling, thinking for the first time that all there was to do on Berk besides train was… fishing. Or farming. Or tending to the animals. She could join one of these professions, but she’d spent her life learning to use an axe! To fight, and to redeem her family name!
Not to grow pigs. She found her mood grow even more sour, imagining people coming to know the Hoffersons for their chickens. Fearless, strong chickens.
Astrid went downstairs and grabbed the box of honey dough, snacking on it throughout the night, and tried to banish the idea that tending yaks could be marginally more respectable than chickens from her head.
She was out of her house before the gray light of twilight had faded into dawn. She was amazed to see that she wasn’t the only one.
Both Hiccup and Stoick looked tired, but Hiccup looked absolutely weary. Stoick hovered over the shoulder of his son as they approached the home of Fishlegs and Hiccup knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
Hiccup knocked again.
Still nothing.
After a pause, Stoick raised a bear paw and before he even knocked there was a reply of “Coming!”
Hiccup somehow looked even more tired.
Fishlegs opened the door wearing an undershirt and a pair of fur trousers. He looked first at Stoick, then to Hiccup. “Oh, hey, there you are. Woah, you okay?”
“I’m alive… for now.” Stoick nudged him and Hiccup continued in a more official tone, “I need you to come to the Great Hall as soon as possible. Bring any cartography equipment that you have.”
“What for?” Fishlegs challenged, but a sturdy gaze from Stoick had him change his tune. “Err, yeah, sure. I’ll be right up after breakfast.”
“Breakfast will be there,” Hiccup informed. “Get dressed.”
“Alright, alright… jeez.” Fishlegs closed the door.
“That went well,” Hiccup said sarcastically.
“It went better than it could have,” his father said, lowering a hand to his shoulder. “You can’t hide in the shadows and watch from there, you’ve got to learn to do things in the light.”
“Dad, I told you,” Hiccup groaned, “I just didn’t want to get in the way.”
Stoick sighed. “You’ll understand someday. It’s not about being in the way, it’s letting them know that you’re there. Someone that can speak for ‘em.”
Astrid tapped the large Viking on his shoulder and he glanced to see her standing there. She raised a finger to her lips. His mouth tugging up into a grin, Stoick lifted his hand from Hiccups shoulder and took one step back.
“I’m having a hard-enough time speaking to them…” Hiccup rubbed his eyes. “Astrid next?”
Nobody answered him.
He turned around and practically touched noses with the blonde Viking girl. “HIYA HICCUP!!” she shouted loud enough to make him topple backward and scream. He made a pained sound as he fell flat on his rear, drawing a delighted giggle from Astrid and a chortle from his father.
“Ahh, yes, that’s great. Very hilarious…” Hiccup grumbled. He made to stand but Astrid offered him her hand. He hesitated for just a second before taking it.
She was surprised at how heavy he felt, and then doubly surprised by the tension in his arm where his biceps flexed when she lifted him. In darkness, she’d almost been able to convince herself he’d still been that scrawny little 14 year old… there was no hiding it in the daylight.
While others had grown softer, Hiccup had filled out. His leather breastplate actually fit, and the pants that he wore didn’t look like they’d fall down. His messy brown hair had grown out as well, and his green eyes looked as if they could be luminescent as their eyes connected.
“Not sorry,” she said, feeling a tinge of heat come to her face. She thumped him on his shoulder.
“Ow!” he protested.
“That’s what you get for leaving me last night!” Astrid put her hands on her hips. “And you’ve got 17 more coming, too!”
“What?? Why would- ow!!” He flinched back as a second fist connected with his arm.
“18 punches for your 18th birthday,” Astrid said. She tapped him on the head as he bent over, hissing in pain. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Oh…” Stoick murmured. He coughed, “Ahem, well, uhh, Hiccup I’ll need you to gather the others. I’ve got to… grab something from Gobber’s, before meeting you in the hall. Yes.”
He didn’t wait for his son to reply, and Hiccup’s protest of, “You didn’t even tell me what we’re meeting for!” went unheard.
He turned to Astrid, narrowing his tired eyes. “What?” she put a hand on her chest, still smiling. “Do you need me to take it easy on you?”
He was quiet for a bit before responding, “Just wish I’d brought my shield with me…”
Astrid blushed.
“Anywho, meet us at the Great Hall as soon as you can. Dad says he’s got something for us to make up for dragon training.”
“He does?! That’s excellent!” she bubbled, feeling the pent up anxiety beginning to release. “No Hofferson chickens!”
He stared at her for a few moments and her blush redoubled before he, thankfully, decided not to ask. “I’ve got to go gather the others,” he pointed over his shoulder.
“Okay!” she brightly replied.
Neither of them moved.
Hiccup cleared his throat. “S-so, uhh, you can just… go on ahead.”
She shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”
“Wha? Why?”
“Cause,” and Astrid struck his other arm, causing him to reel. “I’ve got 15 more to go!”
******************************************************************************
The twins’ home was one of the few houses to have a fenced in yard. A small yak pranced up to them from the wooden wall and mooed cheerfully when they approached.
Tuffnut peeked around from the side while Astrid leaned over, petting the cheerful creature. “Huh? What are you two here for? Is something on?” he asked them.
Astrid was surprised. She’d expected something more… hostile, after last night.
“Hey, Tuff,” Hiccup responded. “We’ve got to head up to the Great Hall for a gathering. Is your sister up?”
“Uhhhhhh, let me check.” Tuffnut came fully around the side of the building. In his hand he held what a child might have considered an axe. It was 80% blade and 5% handle, with the rest being chord that desperately held the creation together.
Astrid couldn’t help but wince. She’d heard it was bad, but she at least expected a hatchet. She felt almost bad for the guy. That was until he levied the bastardized weapon and lobbed it at a window on the second story.
The axe embedded into the wooden shutter and smashed it inward. Tuffnut called, “Hey Sis! You up yet?!”
Another window at the other end of the house snapped open. Ruffnut’s hair was a ragged mess, spilling down onto the filthy roof tiles. Over her eyes she wore what looked to be a cotton mask. “What?!?” she screamed down at him.
Tuffnut looked from her to the other window, then back. Then he held up his finger, as if counting the rooms and finding there were indeed two of them before realization smacked into him and all the posture went out. “Ugh… get dressed, we’ve got stuff.”
Ruffnut lifted the mask from her eyes. “What kinda ‘stuff’?” she snarled. Then she saw Hiccup and Astrid. “Oh. It’s you two. We’re busy.”
“No we’re not,” Tuffnut grunted. Then, turning to the others. “We’ll be up in a few. Kay?”
A large clay vase smashed against his helmeted head and shattered to pieces. He hit the ground with them. Ruffnut’s window slammed shut.
Hiccup and Astrid moved closer to the fence. A hand shot up and a strangled voice called, “I’m okay!”
The yak bent over and began licking the hand.
“Err… so… Snotlout!” Hiccup said, turning to Astrid and clapping his hands. “Onward!”
As they walked away, the yak pleasantly mooed.
******************************************************************************
Snotlout’s father answered the door.
“Ahh, good morning, Mr. Jorgenson!” Hiccup greeted. “Is Snotlout home?”
Spitelout Jorgenson lifted a bushy black eyebrow. He looked from Hiccup to Astrid and gave an amused snort. “Why, are you two here to ask him out to play? You’re of age today, aintcha boy-o? Call me by my name.”
Hiccup hesitated before chuckling nervously. “Err… sure thing, yeah. Is he here?”
The elder Jorgenson leaned back into the home. “BOY!” he thundered.
Astrid leaned forward and hurriedly whispered, “Spitelout.”
“I knew that!” he whispered back tersely. He turned back. “Thanks, Spitelout,” he pumped his arm emphatically and Astrid couldn’t help the awkward cringe.
“What- aww,” came a yawn from inside. “What is it?” Snotlout came to the door, wiping at his eyes. “It’s like not even noon yet, Dad.”
It was one of the only times Astrid had ever seen the cocky boy without his ram horn helmet. His black hair looked filthy, marked with grease in the morning light and still ruffled with sleep. He was wearing a black cloth shirt that looked like he’d torn the sleeves off himself, though by the width of his arms it looked like it was necessary.
He turned to the door and his eyes quickly went wide. “Astrid!” he gasped and then ducked back inside.
“Hey!” his father lashed out, grabbing the young man by the scruff of his neck. “Where in Thor’s name do you think you’re goin?”
“Dad no let me go!” Snotlout complained. “I don’t have my helmet!”
“Oh come off it, it’s not that impressive anyways! Just wait till you hunt dragons, then you’ll get a real helmet!”
Spitelout dragged him bodily back to the front door and after putting up a brief attempt to cover his hair, the young Viking thrust his arms to his side, then crossed them, then leaned on the door.
In a false deep voice he addressed Astrid. “So, how can I help you, babe?”
Hiccup coughed, interrupting Astrid before she could give a hotheaded reply, and Snotlout seemed to realize that he was there for the first time. “Well, most people call me Hiccup, but I guess babe’s fine. I’d like for you to head up to the Great Hall. We’re gathering the teens to talk about the dragon training.”
Snotlout’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing with her?” he asked.
He was then rewarded with a quick cuff to the back of the head. “Hey! What’d I say about talkin’ like that?”
Snotlout had his hands over the back of his head. “A-alright, sorry,” he murmured.
“I asked you a question, boy-o,” Spitelout growled.
“T-that a Viking doesn’t look down on his cohorts,” Snotlout grumbled.
“That’s good.” The elder folded his arms over his chest, looking as if he were flexing over his son. “He’ll be right up.”
Hiccup looked perfectly uncomfortable. “Ahh… thanks…” he said. He turned to Astrid and made a disturbed face before they headed off.
The door closed behind them and they heard Snotlout whine. “Dad! You embarrassed me in front of the pretty girl!”
Astrid’s cheeks turned scarlet.
Hiccup, meanwhile, was trying so hard not to laugh that it was coming out as a series of coughs. They moved to the main path, walking up towards the Great Hall.
Having no idea what to say, but knowing she needed to say something, Astrid tried to bounce it back at him. “So, does only Snotlout get to call you ‘babe,’ or can I call you it too?”
Her internal dialogue began to scream.
Hiccup snorted. “Only if I get to call you pretty girl.”
If they had been burning before, her cheeks were as hot as dragon flames now. “Oh, don’t you start! I already have Captain Smooth back there hitting on me every chance that he gets…”
“Hey, technically, you hit on me first.”
Her mouth fought trying to fold both into a disapproving frown and up to a playful smile. It was only when she realized that his own cheeks had gone red and his eyes crossed in on himself that she realized he was probably shouting inwardly too. And, like so often, Astrid did the first thing that came to her mind.
She slugged Hiccup right on the shoulder, not holding back this time. “14,” she said with pink cheeks and pursed lips. “And I’ll hit on you as much as I want to, babe.”
He didn’t even react, just looked at her and grinned that stupid cute grin.
