Hiccup fell on all fours, his tunic drenched in sweat. Arms numb from the strain and his face still still stinging from his painful dive that had him face planting painfully against the water.
He rolled and laid on his back and heave where he laid. His arms spread wide, his shaking legs kept apart and his fingers finding comfort in the smooth white stone. Slowly, the pain settles than throbs.
A shadow then loomed over him, making him smile as he saw a familiar brown gronkle smiling widely with his tounge hanging out as he it laid flat on its belly.
Hiccup snickered loudly, while quietly admitting that it is kinda cute.
His fingers scratched across the Dragon's jaws and chin that had the the Gronkle wagging it's tail like a dog.
With another build up of color across his vision, Hiccup felt another connection. Another warmth that tied him into his new life.
He sat up where the Gronkle plops itself, letting him lean into it. The weight of his fatigue slowly begun to settle and gently his muscles started to uncoil.
As he rested, his eyes then scanned the Pit where he found Halvard, glaring at a distance with a spear and shield at hand. And with a tired sigh, he urged the man close, yet Halvard remained rooted, refusing to acknowledge his pleads.
Hiccup noticed it, much like most of them all. Seeing how casual he was in the presence of the Dragon had the man fuming. His nostrils flared as he locked gaze at Hiccup's carefree self, right next to a dragon that could easily crush his head like a viking boot to a pebble.
Saddened by his lack of progress, Hiccup turned his attention to the rest of those overseeing everything from atop the pit.
The usual vitriol and concern has started to secede. Now... now looks of resignarion, disappointment, disapproval and caution could be seen among many. It was a good start, far from how the original Hiccup have had it.
Shuffling feet reached his ears and his eyes refocused, finding itself at a familiar blonde girl. Astrid, the bravest girl in the village who was more than curious enough to approach him with a towel.
He sent the girl a nod with thanks as he wiped his sweat. While they sat there, quiet and slightly awkward. After all, he doesn't really know where to go from there.
When Gobber and him had created a couple of Vambrace and a viking sword for his father, Stoick. The chief had been surprised and grateful for the gifts. Becoming the recipient of various stares of envy and disbelief when his sword cleaved halfway through a viking shield.
And despite telling him that it was made of dragon puke, Stoick the Vast was grateful none the less.
"A sharp blade is a sharp blade. No viking would complain."
It was a curious thing. To know of the stubbornness in the man yet to be caught off guard at the level of understanding he possessed. Something Hiccup had initially discarded. And with the discovery, Hiccup felt his shoulders lighten, an unknown burden removing itself from the back of his mind.
That same day, Stoick had not only entered the Dragon Pit with minimum desire to kill a dragon but he also entered with apt curiosity. Gobber had opened the cages of the Pit, and waited till the Gronkle hobbled it's way out.
Seeing three people with no weapons. It stood curious, till Gobber showed the rocks and handed it one by one.
Stoick watched with wide eyes as the Dragon ate without removing one of Gobber's limbs. The only thing that truly set him on edge, was when Hiccup started scratching the creature. Making it wag it's tail like a pleased dog while still munching on what the dragon considered food. Stoick and while peeved at how casual the two were, he of course was cautious, knowing full well that the tail was nothing less than a Warhammer.
After several minutes, the Gronkle then spewed out of it's mouth and into a watery bucket. Instantly solidifying into iron. And from there the miracle continues as Hiccup, in a moment of pure curiosity, handed Stoick a bucket of fish silently urging him to feed it.
Seconds pass between the three. Each with a silent hesitation they bore without a word. And with a blank face, and rigid movements. Stoick gave a fish to the Gronkle. One it happily received. And then another and another and another, all till the bucket was empty.
It was that night that Stoick was exposed to what Hiccup wanted, as the boy watched with curiosity. The Gronkle hobbled close, smiling as it looked to the large man in viking armor. It was quiet, it was gentle and before Stoick noticed it, Hiccup and placed his palm against the Dragon's snout. Feeling it purr against his hand.
The Pit that night became the start of change between three people. Gobber walked out, fascinated and curious. Hiccup's attention was more to his father than the dragon. But Stoick.... Stoick walked away in silence with a faraway look that spoke volumes of what was going through their minds.
That night, Hiccup came home to the spark of fire and a contemplating father by the hearth. And their exchange, while brief... was an exchange that had come sooner than he expected.
"Not all Dragons are a docile son." his father whispers in the silence, filling the room with his remark.
"I know father." he answers without hesitation.
Yet Stoick remained skeptical, out of fear or caution. And so he couldn't help but voice out a couple of words filled with doubt. "Do ya'?"
"Yes."
"You do train."
"For the very reason you raised me dad." with firm steps and voice, Hiccup kneels next to his father's throne like chair and said. "To endure and ensure the next generation. As docile as that Dragon may be, I promise you father, I will cut down those who dare harm us."
A beat of silence, with the two simply looking into each other's eyes. And whatever it was that Stoick was looking for, he found sufficient. As his lips curled upward, as small as it is, he nodded in approval at what he has heard.
Hiccup was aware of his uncertainty but he was trying to convey something simple. That Dragons are simple creatures... just like them. Good and bad are bound to be there.
"...so you need more Gronkle?" asked Stoick, playfulness spilling from them.
But what Hiccup said next froze the conversation. "Only if they want to stay." he said.
It covered too much. Painted a picture far too vivid. And Stoick wasn't sure he liked it.
So he stood up and left with words so gentle he doubted it came from him as parting words.
"Good night, son."
From that day onward, the Pit had slowly changed. It had started slow where Hiccup could be seen practicing while a Dragon sat by the open cage, munching down on a few rocks.
It wasn't long before the dragon started hovering around and snarling at those who bore weapons. Yet despite the Dragon's agitation, no one forbid it. Just as none stopped the Vikings for being overly cautious or afraid with weapons drawn nor did anyone stopped the Dragon for being out of it's cage. Let alone did Hiccup himself stop his training within the Dragon's vicinity.
And after a whole month, they all eased. The dragon would glare but never attack preemptively, while the Vikings would keep their weapons. By their hips, by their side or somewhere within reach but never drawing it. All the while Hiccup kept training, unknowingly sending waves of doubt and anger to his fellow Berkians.
Cause everyone knew that should the Gronkle attack, it would Stoick's boy who would die first.
It was a whole month before things shimmered down. Made easier with the introduction of Gronkle Iron. Bringing a wave of finer weapons and armor. It was then that the village began to see the creatures worth. Rocks and fish for indestructible weapons, it is too generous.
That was also the amount of time it took, before Halvard continued their training. With the man being busy glaring at Hiccup as he stood among those who held a weapon at close distance for their security.
Of course some tension sprung. With Halvard angry at Dragons. Astrid sharing the same sentiment and being pissed off at being left behind and kept away from the Pit. Yet still, she watched Hiccup refuse to stop his progress while keeping his sparring with his father along with his tutelage in the forge with Gobber.
Now...here he is. Finding himself the recipient of gossip. The traitor his enemies whispered, the brave the kids called him, and a warrior said those who liked him. This was a slow approach but if he pulls this off. Dragons and Vikings would find understanding sooner than they should have.
"Hiccup!"
His eyes went back to he present, and waved at the familiar booming voice of his father.
"Come! There is a matter to be discussed."
His words allowed no response but acknowledgement. And acknowledge Hiccup did. He stood, and followed but not before giving the Viking girl a kiss on her forehead.
It may be wrong with them only eight but... he can't control certain things.
The desire to make his mentor and father proud. To pour his heart unto becoming a true viking and earn his place among the village. And finally, to rekindle an old flame that was extinguished. He just can't help it and so he let the village know of his intent now, rather than start too late and lose her in the future.
—.—.—.—.—
"News have reached us just now." said Stoick as he packed items into a sack. "One of our allies is being attacked. I will be going as part of the aid."
"Who's in charge then?"
"Gobber."
"Ok...I guess that leaves me with the forge but, I was sure you summoned for something more important than this." Hiccup's sarcasm spills, slightly elevating Stoick's mood.
"Aye. I did." Stoick's voice was soft as he knelt in front of Hiccup, pressing a horned helmet against his chest. And in the stunned silence, he spoke with weight spilling with every word.
"I don't how long I'll be gone. Odin knows I would prefer to be home at all-"
"Gods above, stop talking like tha-"
"Hiccup. I know what you're doing." Hiccup tensed, Stoick continues. "I know what you're trying. Believe me...your mother tried the same." he gently grip his son's shoulder. "They will scorn you. They will laugh. Judge. Label you in ways that would hurt, not just you, but your friends or any family you may bear. Believe this son, because even as a baby... you bore your mother's short coming."
Stoick felt his son jolt where he stood yet his eyes, wide as they were, held understanding beyond his years. Something his heart was more than grateful for and so he continued.
"Gobber can-" Stoick froze, his heart aches at the mere thought of that night. "I can't tell you more. It hurts to even remember. But if you want to continue on this path promise me. Promise me son! That you will not sacrifice your joy, your future, your loved ones for Dragons. Not for peace. Not prosperity. But your own happiness."
"I know its hard to see the future in such selfish ways. But this was something your mother failed to see. That we are Vikings. We are a stubborn lot, refusing to surrender even against the end of the world, such is our way. And for the generations that had led Berk, we had long known and learned that the best way to lead them is to show them! Whether they like it or not! Strength succeeds where words have failed... It is through strength that your visions will become real. Such is what it means to lead! Do you hear me son."
"...I will." there was doubt in his words, but a familiar gleam shone through his eyes. The same eyes that had struck straight unto Stoick's heart every time he would watch his son rise. From the dirt, from the bruise, the battering and the insults.
Stoick knelt there, running his hands across his son's hair and cheek. He saw the strength in the boy, and with a sigh of calmness that washed over him and their home. He stood up, hefted his supplies up his shoulder and left with a few words.
"I'll be back... probably."
"And I'll be here... maybe."
—.—.—.—.—
The sun sets with a presence of a light that predates the coming darkness. But for all those who sailed away, and those they left behind, there could not have been a more fitting send off.
Because for those who died will know that their gods knew they were coming. That their forefathers will be ready to welcome them. And those who survive, will have a tale to share among men. A tale worth a legacy.
Unfortunately, those who sailed away, were not the ones the grace of gods had shone upon.
But those they left behind.