Chapter Text
With a resigned snort, Hiccup set the charcoal down on the parchment again, without making a single line, and stared morosely at the unfinished sketch in front of him. His mind remained shockingly blank. It was useless. No matter how long and hard he brooded, nothing broke through his stoppered mind, neither a nascent idea nor a flash of inspiration.
Yawning, he ran his thumb and forefinger between his eyes, which had been burning for a while, reminding him it was about time to let his work rest until tomorrow. During this time of year, the exhaustion in his body was his only reliable timepiece. The rather short-lived summer, hot and muggy, had recently overtaken his tribe and, with it, the hardly ever fading sun. Its tireless light was now dimming but never completely disappearing; midsummer was unmistakably approaching.
Hiccup examined his own shadow, which had barely moved for hours. He couldn't judge how long he'd been on his feet, but it should be evening by now. Sallow sunlight filtered through the pinned tent wall, bathing the narrow interior in a pale golden hue, and the familiar noises of cicadas and bird warbles defined the island like the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Berk lived on. New Berk had arisen.
The month since the dragons departed had been the longest as well as the shortest weeks of his life. His loss, and his tribe's loss, continued to sting, filling the atmosphere at times as oppressively as an approaching storm. Despite this, a hope animated them and softened the separation. It carried them through the most difficult hours: the hope of a future together with their winged comrades when it was safe for man and dragon to live together again. Instead of slipping into a dreary state of lethargy, the tribe had turned their grief into something meaningful. It gave them unexpected strength, a dogged industry that distracted them from what would otherwise be omnipresent mourning.
Hiccup was convinced he had done the right thing when he let the dragons of Berk fly to the Hidden World. The idea that Toothless had found a new home there—where he was free, happy, and above all safe—comforted him. It couldn't entirely alleviate the longing that haunted him, especially in quiet, lonely moments, often ambushing him like a Night Terror on the prowl. He missed Toothless more than he wanted to admit. At the same time, he felt a happiness and an inner contentment foreign to him.
Although the future was as unpredictable as the will of the gods (and the office of chief often confronted him with impossible tasks), he believed he had finally found his place among his tribe. He had shed the insecurities of his adolescence and had overcome the stale authority that once so often made him the target of complaints and concerns. For the first time in his life, he stood solely on his own two feet—though one of those was prosthetic. He no longer depended on either his father's expert guidance or the protection of Toothless. He trusted in his own strength and felt surprisingly good about it.
No Berkian surrendered, no matter what evil fate befell them. They were too proud, too determined, and maybe a little too stubborn and pigheaded for that. Hiccup had New Berk, he had Gobber, his mother, his friends, and most of all, he had...
Hiccup came out of his dim world of thoughts at the barely audible rustle of the tent curtain. A small smile quirked his lips, and he listened to the silence when the newcomer let the curtain slide into place without the pinning. He heard neither the gentle landing of her light step on the earthen floor, nor the imperceptible exhalation of another breath. Nevertheless, Astrid's presence was just as tangible to him as a fresh draft that might find its way into the stifling heat of the tent.
She approached, silent and yet deliberate.
"What can I do for you, milady?" he asked his betrothed in the most casual tone he was capable of, sensing the delicate touch of her fingertips at his arm.
Barely a moment later, two arms gently wrapped around his neck from behind. Her weight on his shoulders increased slightly when she leaned forward to get a glimpse of the parchment sprawled across the table. A full torrent of blond hair brushed his cheek. The thick tresses of it stole into his field of vision like that afternoon's sunbeams. He inhaled her familiar scent and leaned into her embrace.
"Are you still working?"
Astrid's voice was high and curious, although Hiccup was sure he heard a thin note of disappointment.
"Probably not anymore," he replied subtly, letting the charcoal slide between his fingers. He picked up an ink pen. He could hear Astrid's cheerful smile at his temple from her voice, and he more clearly saw her pointing finger when she relaxed her embrace to refer to the sketch.
"What have you been working on, then?"
Hiccup heaved a long sigh when the ink died abruptly.
"On the pulleys, but unfortunately, I haven't been very successful."
Astrid pulled her arms a little tighter around his neck again.
The inadequate pulleys were currently Hiccup's biggest problem child. They had already given him many sleepless nights. Their development was more crucial than that of any newborn infant's and vital to the continued survival of the tribe.
New Berk had many advantages, in particular a high level of security. The island was practically impregnable—unless you happened to have your own dragon army. It was precisely this advantage that presented them with the greatest problem. Although an uninvited guest could never reach the high plateau unnoticed, they were just as unable to come down.
Meanwhile, they urgently needed the sea. Not just because, as Vikings, they were a people who had dedicated their hearts and souls to seafaring, but primarily because they needed supply imports. (This was especially true because they had to leave a large part of the sheep and yaks behind on Berk.) Thanks to its many lakes, New Berk still had enough fish stocks of its own so that they could survive isolated, possibly for months. However, it was only a matter of time before the situation worsened, in the worst case, forcing them to tear down their barely built huts and find a new island in the archipelago.
"I see you've doubled the loads on the carts and the ships," Astrid remarked carefully, after scanning the detailed drawings and less legible marginal notes. "Have you thought about strengthening the ropes, too?"
Hiccup nodded before tapping the charcoal on a note at the bottom of the parchment he'd been unintentionally covering with his hand.
"Although we'll have to tie new ones again so that they don't tear at the length we need. But that's the least of my headaches. Gobber and I are still working on a new glue solution, one that should make them more resistant to friction," Hiccup readily explained, glad to share his concerns and ideas with her. Even if it didn't help him solve the issue, just knowing she was by his side with her support was encouraging. "The problem is the scaffolding. I doubt it'll support the full weight of the pulley structures, let alone the ships."
Astrid bent over the table, as if she might miss something important in the dim light of the midnight sun. Hiccup looked up at her for the first time that evening. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he noticed the way her brow furrowed when her eyebrows drew together. Her eyes appeared wide awake, even if they bore weariness, which gave him a pang.
"You doubled everything elsewhere, so why not the scaffolding?" she suddenly said at the level of his shoulder.
Her idea took him so aback that he couldn't come up with a suitable response.
"Would that be possible?" Astrid asked further, giving him the impetus for an idea that quickly settled in his head. He turned to his sketch and studied his preliminary calculations.
"Theoretically, if we..." he murmured under his breath. He picked up his charcoal pencil with renewed enthusiasm and hastily drew the first lines.
Astrid broke her hug and released Hiccup when she saw the familiar, energetic spark in his eyes. She breathed a kiss on his heated temple, even if he probably would no longer notice it. Ever since they were kids, Hiccup shut out the world around him as soon as the tiniest spark of inspiration caught his inventive mind. He would throw himself headlong into his projects, with a tenacity that would not let him rest until he had them down on parchment to his satisfaction.
She withdrew a little and sat down on one of the boxes standing around, which still contained unpacked objects and memories from Berk. She placed her chin on her hand, smiling as she watched him work. She didn't mind exercising a bit of patience for a change until Hiccup's split attention was completely hers again. His increasingly precise hand movements meant he was just outlining the finishing touches.
The charcoal pencil clattered woodenly on the tabletop when Hiccup carelessly put it aside in order to pick up his completed sketch and examine it one last time.
"That could work," he muttered to himself after the assessment.
Astrid softly cleared her throat.
"Sorry. Forgot you were here."
"Does it add up?" she asked and leaned forward, whereupon Hiccup triumphantly held up the sketch.
"Yes, thanks to you."
He was just about to join her, drawing in hand, a comprehensive explanation already on his lips, to familiarize her with the smallest details of his latest construction, but Astrid motioned to him that a verbal summary sufficed. She couldn't afford them to delve into any mechanical lectures. Hiccup looked a little contrite, albeit appreciative of her time, and carefully rolled up the parchment.
"Now I can divide a ship's load between two pulleys—one pulley for each end of a ship. I'll still have to come up with a mechanism that will allow us to move both ends of the ship evenly and, more importantly, simultaneously. But with a little practice and adjustment, it should be possible."
"So you're free now?" she asked, and her lips pursed meaningfully.
"Ye-e-es. Unless, of course, you have more astute observations to share with me." He eagerly pointed a thumb at a whole bundle of scrolls neatly stacked in a small chest. "In any case, I'm much obliged to you."
Astrid shook her head in the negative and added in a lowered voice, "What would you think if we went on a little trip?"
Hiccup raised his eyebrows. "Where to?" he countered and slipped his charcoal stylus back into its sleeve on his belt pack. Where, in Odin's name indeed, did she want to go, in the middle of the night, even if it was now always light outside?
Astrid deepened her secretive smile before she got up and ducked out of the tent. Hiccup had no choice but to duck out after her. When he stepped out of the dim twilight of his tent, he blinked a few times against the sudden brightness. She was already gesturing for him to walk with her.
"Now you have to close your eyes."
Hiccup scoffed fondly. Such secrecy was unusual from Astrid.
"And why's that?"
"Well, that's the surprise part."
After a moment's hesitation, he blew out his cheeks in defeat and complied with her unusual request. He felt a little ridiculous when he thought about any Viking passing by and seeing their chief disabled in leg and now sight.
"Don't squint!" she said, as if he were a known spoilsport.
Hiccup screwed up his eyes all the more tightly, though he was pretty sure that she was currently executing a few provisional punches at the level of his face to test him. The fine breeze from the rapid movements brushed his cheeks and forehead a moment longer.
After deciding her little test sufficient, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her, gently and carefully, lest he accidentally stumble. Her skin felt rough under his fingers, but Hiccup didn't mind in the least. He admired her hands, with their many calluses and fading scars. They were the defining hands of a warrior, equally procuring and protecting.
She embodied the ideal of a Viking: strong, fearless, and beautiful, to boot. To his chagrin, he boasted very few of those virtues. Quite the opposite: idiosyncratic and highly unconventional, if you'd like to put it in the most flattering terms. He'd always harbored a fear in the darkest corner of his mind that his efforts weren't enough. That he wasn't enough.
Yet, ever since their conversation on the cliff, something had changed between them he couldn't quite name. All it took was a quick glance, a fleeting gesture, or a subtle intonation to understand the other.
At the moment, even his recently discovered sixth sense did little to help determine where Astrid was leading him, literally blind. Memories of Gobber's dragon training surfaced, unbidden, and he focused entirely on his other senses, trying to ascertain enough clues as coherently as possible.
Though he was too unfamiliar with New Berk to navigate it with his eyes closed, there was no doubt they were walking through the village encampment. The warm air smelled pleasantly of fresh sawdust, mixed with the fading, sour smell of paint. Huts, storehouses, and other public buildings, such as the new Great Hall—even insignificant features, such as market stalls and benches—were modeled after the dragons in form and color. Viewed from above, New Berk must have looked like a vast dragon memorial, in which the image of the fiery reptiles had settled, engraved forever.
"By the way, Astrid. Have you been able to convince Snotlout that he'll break his neck if he builds his hut in the trees and uses a rope ladder instead of stairs?" Hiccup asked, amused, while Astrid continued to guide him through the emergent village, whereby they were certainly attracting many questioning glances.
"Better," she promised. "I convinced him that his 'S' would be best positioned at the top of his treehut." Despite her playful reply, Hiccup received a soft nudge on his upper arm.
"Hey!" he returned with mock indignation. Astrid's punches, although they may have decreased in frequency, hadn't lost their power over the years. "Another sneak attack like that, and I'll open my eyes."
His threat failed, not because it fell on deaf ears, but because they arrived. Astrid stopped and grabbed his arm lightly so that he also stopped without accidentally running into her back.
"Alright. Now you can open your eyes again."
Hiccup squinted straight ahead and let his face fall to confusion. There was nothing. At least, nothing worth Astrid's excitement. She, meanwhile, happily tapped his upper arm with the back of her hand.
"And?" she urged him.
He figured he should answer soon, or at least produce some positive reaction since he felt—and probably looked—shockingly blank. His gaze flitted to Astrid and back before he opened his mouth. He closed it without having achieved anything and pursed his lips.
"Um... well..." he began, perplexed.
"Yes?" she asked, with confusion creeping into her voice.
"Your surprise is a patch of grass?"
Though he couldn't complain about his eyesight, despite the countless hours he spent with insufficient candlelight, all he could make out was a patch of bare ground where the calf-high grass hadn't been cropped.
Astrid let go of him, and her smile returned, although this time it had a smug edge. She crossed her arms across her chest.
"Ex-a-ctly," she confirmed monosyllabically. The following seconds were agonizing. Hiccup racked his brains until she relieved him of his efforts. "You still have no idea what this is, do you?"
Hiccup slouched in defeat, a little guilty.
"Not the slightest."
Forgiving his honesty, Astrid loosened her arms before stepping up to him again and pulling him a little closer to her side so that he was now standing in her previous position.
"Now look carefully again."
Hiccup peered at the grass one more time and narrowed his eyes so that nothing remained hidden from him. Sure enough, he recognized a well hidden—almost invisible among the supple sway of the dense stalks—wooden marker post. He raised his gaze, whereupon he discovered three more that had been driven into the ground several meters away from the first one. Together, they formed a recognizable rectangle. He raised an eyebrow.
"Just tell me..." he said softly.
Astrid took a few steps forward. She spread her arms out, as if to cover the entire area with them. "Isn't this the perfect place for your new house?"
─•~:~•─
TBC