Ten: Fight my own way
Curled up on a hard wooden bed in Astrid's new house, Hiccup was drowsy from the infusion Gothi had left strict instructions to feed him morning and night. It was bitter and made him very sleepy but right now, it was a blessing because he needed the rest. And, though he was ashamed to consider it, he was feeling far safer with her than he had back in the forge.
Stoick and Gobber had brought a hard and basic bed to Astrid's home that afternoon and had installed it in the ground door, by the fire-pit. The Chief had also supplied another couple of the deep red tunics, olive green leggings and a basic belt. Hiccup had already decided he would mend his own dagger when he was stronger and his broken hand was knitting-and his agile mind had already considered that the rent strips of leather from the ruined tunic could be woven into a flexible tunic-with a few pieces of padding and armour... And then Astrid, Stoick and Gobber had helped Hiccup to Astrid's house-meaning the stubborn young man had tried to walk himself and had been lifted into the Chief's arms once his strength had failed and carried up to the Shield Maiden's rebuilt home.
Astrid's home had been appallingly plain and devoid of possessions but a fire was burning in the fire pit and she had his furs washed and cleaned and waiting for him-along with the torn remains of his journal and the plans and blueprints the vandals hadn't found. He had limped in, being gently helped onto the bed.
"I...um...think I probably need to help you a bit..." he mumbled, embarrassed but she pointedly pulled the furs up over his beaten shape and stroked his hair.
"You can help me when you're more healed," she said sternly. "Hiccup-you have done so much for me and I really haven't done much for you at all."
"Um...except saving my life and getting me medical help and giving me a roof over my head..." he mumbled, blushing. Then he looked up, emerald eyes wide and grateful. "And I can never thank you enough," he admitted softly. She smiled and tucked him in.
"You can thank me when you're well," she repeated. "For now, I'm going to get us some food from the Great Hall and then we can eat here together..."
"You don't have to," he said quickly but when she smiled his heart fluttered.
"Just try to stop me, Hiccup," she said gently and flounced to the door. She tossed him a smirk and left the small room. And then, exhausted and in pain, he had curled up and dropped asleep.
He was woken when Astrid returned, perching gently on the edge of the bed with two bowls of hot stew. Blinking owlishly, he painfully sat up and gave a grateful smile. She scooted next to him and gently handed him his stew. They quietly ate, her eyes flicking up to inspect his beaten shape and smile as she saw him swallow the desperately needed food. He finished first, having learnt to eat much quicker than she did.
"I feel ashamed that you're sleeping on the floor while I have a bed," he mumbled, laying the bowl aside. She smiled and chewed her bread cheerfully.
"I promised to look after you," she reminded him. "After all, I was the one who claimed you were the man I love. And letting you sleep on the floor when you have been so injured isn't a great way of showing that."
"Kind of matches up with how the rest of my family shows they care," he muttered but she smiled at him and swatted his shoulder gently. He groaned. "Owww...." he whimpered. She grabbed his tunic and pulled him towards her.
"Mutton-head," she scolded him. "I care." He winced.
"Are you always this violent?" he protested.
"All the time," she confirmed and he gave a small smile.
"Guess I'll have to get used to bruises," he sighed, "not that I'm not already..." She stared into his eyes.
"I may have messed up on being a perfect Shield Maiden," she admitted, "so can I check? Are we...a couple now, Hiccup?" He stared at her and chewed his lip.
"I think it's up to you," he said very quietly. "I am your friend. I have loved you for years. I will be whatever you want me to be-but I will always be your friend, no matter what." Her eyes flicked to his bruised lips, then back up to his green eyes, staring back with hope and kindness. So she lunged forward and her lips met his, pressing hard. His eyes widened in shock and amazement and then he softly kissed her back.
They were both breathing hard when they pulled away from the brief kiss, cheeks warm with mutual embarrassment. Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes lingering on her face.
"I knew it," he murmured ironically. "I am actually dying...or maybe freezing to death on the cliffs...and I'm hallucinating. That's the only way I could be kissing Astrid Hofferson..." She laughed. "Oh Gods-and I was terrible as well..." he added.
"Well, I have never been kissed before, Hiccup-so you're the best kisser I've ever met," she told him. He sighed.
"And by that reasoning-also the worst!" he pointed out. She pecked another kiss on his cheek.
"Get some rest, sword-boy," she told him and he gave a quick salute.
"Yes, Milady," he replied sarcastically.
"Milady?"
"If it fits, run with it," he replied as he painfully lay down, his eyes locked on her face. She tucked him in and smiled. "You really don't have to do this if you don't want to," he added softly. She turned to the stairs then paused as she glanced back.
"Have you ever considered that I want to?" she asked him as she vanished up to bed.
oOo
The horn for the dragon attack jolted him from sleep and he hissed in pain as he tried to move. Everything was stiff and hurt. He heard the thud of steps as Astrid charged down the stairs, dressed and holding her axe. He grimaced as he sat up and tried to get out of the bed.
"Stay. Here!" she told him.
"But I need to help," he protested, his face stricken. "I can't be..." He couldn't say the word and through her hurry, she understood his pain. She paused and flashed him a tight smile.
"Never. Guard the house, then," she told him. "Be safe, Hiccup."
"You too," he called to her retreating back as the door slammed closed behind her. Wincing, he managed to get to his feet and stumbled forward, grabbing the sword that Gobber had dropped off to ensure he had some protection. He swayed, then stumbled out of the door, closing it behind him-and staring with eyes wide at the carnage. If anything, it was worse than he remembered, though he hadn't been out in a raid for three years, living and working at the forge during raids since he was disowned. His eyes drifted to the forge and he could hear Gobber's voice shouting at customers and the clangs of the hammer. He felt instantly embarrassed at letting his boss down.
A screech drew him back to the present and a green Nadder advanced towards him. He backed up a pace, waving the sword and seeing its pupils narrow to angry slits. He was tempted to lower the sword and try his observation from the forest but this was the middle of a raid and the dragons were rampaging everywhere. So he leaned forward, breathing hard as the tail flicked up and a volley of spines stitched the wall where he had been-but he had thrown himself forward, slapping his sword against the dragon's nose-horn. It screeched-and then flamed at him.
He threw himself to the floor and swatted the dragon again-but a bola clattered against its head and it fled. Painfully crawling back, he grabbed the full water buckets on the front step and tossed them against the flames, extinguishing them. Then he leaned against the wall, breathing hard, his entire body hurting. He wasn't fit to fight-and was a liability. The only place he was useful was denied to him because his left hand was broken and so he was unable to even contribute. So he remained by the house, watching and keeping his sword raised to protect Astrid's home.
As he stared over the village, flames licking briefly from houses before the Fire Crew doused them, his emerald eyes narrowed as he saw a brief shadow against the stars and he stiffened as the characteristic whine sounded. The dragon no one has ever seen. The unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself.
"NIGHT FURY!"
The cry rang through the village as one of the catapults exploded in a welter of purple fire as the shadows zoomed past. Night Fury attacks had been very rare over the last couple of years and Hiccup was vividly reminded that he had been obsessed with shooting down the elusive dragon. But he had never gotten a chance to try his bola-throwing device...where had it gotten to? He paused. Maybe while he was out of action, he could take it out and test it. If the Night Fury was back, then the village would need all the help it could get.
A scream alerted him and he saw Astrid backing away from three Nadders and a Gronckle. He glanced around and saw no one nearby. He swallowed in anxiety but a jolt of adrenaline shot through him and he switched the sword to his broken left hand, then grabbed the bucket and hurled it with all his strength at the nearest dragon. It squawked in rage and turned on him as he shambled towards it and smacked it in the face with the flat of the sword.
Instantly the dragons all turned on him and he backed away-though he was relieved to see Astrid scramble up and retrieve her axe.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. He backed up and waved his sword.
"Um...distracting them?" he suggested. "Little help?"
"AARGH!" Astrid roared and leaped at the nearest dragon with her axe. There were squawks and screeches as she hit devastatingly and the nearest dragon fell. Hiccup backed up as she vaulted over to land by him and he lifted the sword shakily, stumbling. She cast him an irritated look.
"What are you still doing here?" she hissed, her eyes focussed on the dragons. He gulped.
"Getting in your way?" he guessed and backed off, his feet suddenly clumsy and head spinning with the effort.
"Watch the house," she snapped and roared again as she attacked the dragons, scattering them. Backing away, he staggered back, cringing. Everyone in the village knew he was useless at fighting dragons but it had been instinctive, running to help her-even though she was 'Fearless' Astrid Hofferson, Shield Maiden of Berk. He had probably angered her and lost his place with her...but he would rather she was alive to hate him than dead. He tripped over the front step and his legs buckled.
"Might have known all Useless could do would be to fall of his own feet and get in the way!" Gustav sneered on his way to replenish his bucket for his duty on the Fire Crew. Grimacing and clutching his broken hand to his chest, Hiccup slowly got to his knees then stared at the boy.
"Haven't you got anything better to do?" he rasped, his voice hoarse with pain.
"Nope-this is fun enough," Gustav sniggered.
"Rephrase: Gustav-go and do your Thor-damned duty!" Hiccup growled. The boy pulled a sneering face.
"You're not the Thor-damned supposed Heir now and you can't order me around!" Gustav retorted spiritedly. "Wait 'til I tell Snotlout you're still throwing your weight around. He'll come back and give you another spanking!" Hiccup groaned, his daze focussing on the village behind the boy. Overhead, a piercing whistle sounded and another catapult exploded into a welter of purple flame.
"NIGHT FURY!" came the all too familiar cry. Hiccup flinched: of course his attempts to shoot down the dragon when he was younger had been doomed...but that had been when he still had hope. But his eyes trailed over the village once more and he sighed. Another catapult exploded.
"Gustav-your home is on fire," he sighed.
"Ha! You can't fool me, Useless! I..."
"GUSTAV! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! YOUR HOME IS ON FIRE!" Yaklegs bellowed and the black-haired boy snapped round, his grey eyes wide with shock.
"Oh Thor," he breathed and raced off, all elbows and knees as he headed urgently for the well. Hiccup groaned.
"Last thing I need, being threatened by mini-Snot," he sighed as he painfully dragged himself to his knees. His legs were shaking so much he couldn't stand so he dragged himself to sit against the front of the house, his sword gripped in his hand and stared across the village, emerald gaze seeing fires doused and dragons slowly withdrawing with their prizes. Shivering, he drew his knees up to his chest and prayed he hadn't ruined everything with Astrid.
oOo
Once the dragons had withdrawn and the fires were under control, Hiccup painfully stumbled to his feet. He was cold and felt exhausted but he didn't want to go back to the house. So he staggered down the hill, whimpering in pain as he moved and eventually made it to the forge, hearing the heavy clangs of Gobber repairing broken weapons from the raid. Slowly, he slid into the overly warm space and leaned against the door. Gobber sighed and looked up-then started as he saw the listing shape.
"Hiccup? What on Midgard are yer doing here?" he asked gruffly, seeing the battered shape by the door. "I thought yer'd be resting up with Astrid..." He sighed and his shoulders slumped.
"I-I think I may have annoyed her," he mumbled and slid onto the stool. Gobber stared at him and ambled forward, his blue eyes reading complete hopelessness. Kindly, he patted the young man hard on the shoulder and the young man flinched. "Lad, how badly did they treat yer?" he asked thoughtfully. Hiccup stared at the floor.
"Um...not well," he sighed, lifting his battered face and Gobber sighed at the damage, having seen him after various beatings across the years. His heart clenched for the boy, recognising real damage before his eyes alighted on the bandaged left hand.
"Gods damn it, why did they break yer hand?" he grumbled. Hiccup shook his head.
"You'd need to ask Snotlout. He was the one who stamped on it," he said tonelessly. "Sorry, Gobber. Can't be much use smithing until it's healed...can't be much use for anything anyway..." The blacksmith patted his shoulder more gently and sighed. Despite his bad temper, disillusionment that stemmed from too many friends lost and too little hope, frustration at Hiccup and his situation, Gobber did still care for the boy: he was just really bad at showing it. But he knew there was one word that defined the boy's life and he knew how much the boy worked to defy it.
"Laddie, yer never useless," he assured the young man thoughtfully. "If yer got a minute, could yer mebbe man the hatch while I get on mending these wrecked weapons? It would be a great help..." Hiccup nodded and moved very achingly towards the hatch and the line of Vikings waiting impatiently to hand over their damaged weapons. He sighed and forced a small smile onto his battered face as the first viking gave a scowl and growled a mouthful of abuse at the assistant.
Astrid had supervised the fire crew and helped the clean up automatically. She was one of the Chief's most trusted deputies and she knew her duties after a raid-though she knew with a frisson of excitement she now had a home to go to once the work was done. An unfamiliar sense of relief washed over her as she walked back to her home, seeing two scorched patches on the new wood and realising that Hiccup had done as he had promised in defending the house. She glanced up at the blue sky and smiled, then pushed the door open and walked in.
Then she stopped. The fire was burning low and the room was empty, the bed rumpled as it had been left when he had followed her out to fight the raid: there was no sign of Hiccup. She looked around in shock and grabbed her axe, heading out. She didn't trust Snotlout or the twins, and though she knew they should be otherwise occupied after a raid, she had been busy-as everyone else-so if they had planned to harm Hiccup, they would have a free hand. So she headed down, wondering where he would go...and her gaze inexorably drifted down the plaza to the shape of the forge, the smoke curling from the chimney. Glancing around, she strode purposefully down the plaza and saw the line of Vikings, grumbling as they waited at the hatch to hand in their damaged weapons.
Astrid frowned. Though she knew that weapons got damaged during raids, she could kind of see Gobber's point: there was far more damage than a sane person would expect. She had her axe for eight years and it had only broken when it had run out resharpenings: she had always taken the greatest care of her beloved weapon. But it was clear the sorry specimens being handed over had been used carelessly, cast at dragons or used as levers or as some other tool because the owner had been too lazy to fetch the correct item. And it was clear the Vikings were all very grumpy at having to wait to have their own personal weapon fixed when it was clearly the most important in the village. She joined the end of the line because she could see the battered auburn-haired shape manning the hatch, calmly collecting the weapons and accepting scant words of greeting for his exceptional performance as temporary Heir-and far more casual abuse every single Viking aimed at him. She winced.
"I don't want your useless hands on my weapon, apprentice!" a rotund, middle-aged Viking sneered, his small, mean eyes narrowed. Hiccup sighed and gestured.
"Well, you can either try to toss the weapon through the hatch-though that may worsen the damage when it lands and who knows when Gobber will get to it-or you can hand it over and I will put it in its place in the order of work," he told the Viking. There was a frosty pause at his exasperated tone and the Viking clenched his fist.
"You must enjoy being hit," he growled.
"Not really," Hiccup commented tiredly-and Astrid could see how pale he was looking under his bruises, the shadows under his dulled emerald eyes showing his exhaustion. His emerald eyes flicked up but he couldn't avoid the punch and he stumbled back, his legs buckling under him. There was an awkward pause and the clangs stopped. Gobber stomped forward to see his assistant on the floor and the Viking mouthing obscenities from the hatch. He shook his head as the Viking snorted.
"Ah-the master, not the thrall!" he sneered as Astrid pushed past as well and let herself into the forge. Gobber scowled.
"Rockears, did yer just hit my assistant?" he demanded angrily. The Viking nodded.
"I'm not having him touching my sword," he said smugly and held it out for Gobber to take. The big blacksmith folded his arms and glared back, pale blue eyes cold.
"Well, I'm not touchin' it neither!" he growled. "If it's not good enough for my assistant-who built it anyway-then I'm not servicing it." Rockears gaped.
"But you have to..." he mumbled but Gobber shook his head, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm fed up of yer lot abusing my assistant!" the blacksmith said loudly, his eyes sweeping over the entire line and impervious to the hypocrisy of the statement. "The lad works hard and he does most of the repairs. I decide who works on what weapon in my forge. If yer want tae make conditions, then yer can mend yer own weapons! As of now, I won't touch or repair ANY weapons belonging to anyone who abuses mae apprentice."
"But you have to..." Rockears repeated in shock.
"Mebbe yer'll have tae take some care o' your weapons," Gobber shouted furiously. "Thor, I never saw such a sorry collection of weapons. How did you break all of these? And don't blame dragon attacks-because I've never broken a weapon like this-nor has the lass Astrid or the Chief in an attack. So yer can all think about what yer doing and if those pitiful bits of iron really need work, you can ready those apologies for my assistant!" Then he slammed the hatch closed.
"Wow," Hiccup murmured, Astrid kneeling in front of him and wincing as she peered into his slightly dazed eyes. "Didn't expect that..." She stared into his face and frowned as Gobber stomped to the back in search of a flask of mead.
"Hiccup?" she asked sharply. "Why are you here? Gothi was very serious about you resting..." He managed a sheepish smile and sighed.
"Well, when you think about it, Berk-small island, lots of dragon raids, few people and lots of jobs to be done. Rest really isn't an option..." She swatted his shoulder gently.
"That's not it, is it?" she guessed, seeing him look away. "Hiccup-you're a dreadful liar." Her tone turned firm and he nodded.
"Um...busted," he admitted tonelessly. "I knew I got in your way during the raid and...um...I guessed that I probably wasn't welcome..." There was a vague hopelessness in his voice that made her pause-and then she punched him in the shoulder. He flinched and grabbed at the wound, teeth gritted against a groan.
"What are you talking about, mutton-head?" she asked, frowning. Wary green eyes flicked up to inspect her and he sighed.
"I..." he mumbled as she stared at him.
"You mean when you saved my life?" she asked him pointedly. He stared at her and then self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck.
"I thought I just got in your way..." he said quietly but she took his unbandaged hand. She squeezed.
"You mean when you charged the dragons that had me surrounded and weaponless?" she asked him directly. "Even though you've never killed a dragon-never come close, even!-but managed to distract them so I could get free and get my axe?" He nodded and sighed.
"I mean, you're the best dragon-killer in the village...except possibly my...the Chief," he reminded her awkwardly. "And it may damage your reputation having Hiccup the Useless sort of help you." He squeezed her hand back. "Let them all think I'm useless if they keep respecting you." He gave a small shrug. "I doubt they'll ever respect me," he added, the words barely audible.
And she gaped...because it was the first time he had ever given any indication he was giving up, that he saw no way out of his lowly and despised state. Ever since she could recall, Hiccup had picked himself up-when he had been scolded for attempting to fight dragons using his crazy inventions and frequently causing more damage than the winged reptiles; when he had been beaten by his bullies; when he had been thrown out of Dragon Training; when he had been disowned; when he had been subjected to a constant drip-drip of taunts, abuse and neglect. But the most recent attack-an ambush that could well have killed him, that had him fighting for his life without hope of rescue or escape-seemed to have brought home the reality of his hopelessness. And the knowledge that no matter what he did, how well he performed when asked by the Chief to save the Tribe, he would be a target for his jealous and vicious cousin. And that rivalry had almost killed him already.
But he had saved her life-no matter how beaten and battered he had been. Hiccup hadn't been allowed to fight dragons and had spent every raid for the last three years in the forge, but he had worked on his fighting skills which Astrid had helped him with and he had grown so he was faster, more agile, stronger. But he had no self-confidence in his abilities-the abilities which had saved her when no one else could.
So she leaned forward and wrapped him in a fierce hug, burying her face in his neck.
"Mutton-head," she murmured as she felt his arms wrap around her. "You know how stupid and yak-brained most of our Tribe are..."
"Way to cheer me up," he mumbled. She squeezed him tighter and he flinched.
"Hiccup," she whispered, "I respect you. I trust you. You saved the house. You saved me. You saved the Tribe. And I will teach you to be a better fighter. Those Vikings...I am so mad I've half a mind to axe various bits of them off to teach them to respect you!" Hiccup nuzzled her neck for a brief moment.
"Pretty sure that will make then respect you a lot more...though none of them will be able to run after me any more afterwards so..." he mumbled dryly.
"See-it's working already," she smiled and pulled back, feeling his arms reluctantly release her. She rose lithely, then grabbed his hands and pulled him up. "Hiccup-I will make you a better fighter if you promise to keep on fighting. You deserve more and I am going to make sure people understand that!" He shuddered.
"Um...won't be fighting much," he admitted, waving his bandaged left hand. She smiled smugly.
"When I've finished with you, Haddock-you'll be rivalling everyone but me!" she assured him as he limped alongside her towards the door at the back of the forge. "Now come home-you're looking as if you'll keel over...and I don't fancy dragging you back up the village." He twitched a small smile.
"Can manage all this raw Vikingness?" he teased her gently and she lightly punched his shoulder. He flinched. "Oww! Bit tenderised here, Milady..." he reminded her and she gave a small apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Hiccup," she said genuinely. He shrugged cautiously. "Come on-I'll cook you something and then you need to get some rest..."
"Oh Thor...now I'm going to be poisoned," he muttered ironically and she gave him a brief, good-humoured scowl. A couple of years earlier, she had developed a new Snoggletog tradition, a drink she had dubbed 'Yaknog.' Unfortunately, after rendering a score of Vikings ill with intractable vomiting and stomach pains, Stoick had banned it for the safety of the village. As far as anyone was aware, it was officially the only thing that Astrid wasn't good at-but as she had dedicated her life to training as a Shield Maiden, she had completely neglected domestic training and almost certainly could barely cook. "Um...maybe I could cook you something and then I could get a rest? Secure in the knowledge I won't die of food poisoning during my sleep?" She cast him a self-confident smile, encouraged as his sarcastic tone: that was more like her friend.
"It's a date," she smiled and led the way out. But limping after her, his gaze trailed over a shape at the back of the forge, half-covered with a discarded and ripped sail canvas. It was the Mangler, his dragon-fighting bola-throwing machine that was, in fact, the last invention he had completed before he was disowned and Gobber, disappointed and disillusioned, had forbidden him to waste any more time on his 'destructive contraptions.' But Astrid's words rolled around this head as he limped back up the Plaza, the beautiful Shield Maiden matching her pace to his.
Maybe I can keep on fighting-but my way, he thought as they made their way past two badly damaged homes and a knot of grieving relatives. I'll find a way to have a look at that and see if I can get it working. Because we need all the help we can get. The raids are getting worse.
A/N: Second part of the double update on Sunday!