Frozen/HTTYD Chapter Twenty-Two

[afterandalasia]

Chapter Twenty-Two

Toothless did not loose any more fireballs on the way back to Berk. It took them more time to return, and Stormfly had to hold back to stay alongside Toothless in the air even if carrying Hiccup and Elsa should not have slowed him in the slightest.

“It’s all right, bud,” said Hiccup, rubbing the back of Toothless’s neck. “You can rest once we get home.”

He could not help but wince at the path of destruction visible from the centre of town down to the cove. The falling snow would help, perhaps, and Berk was too wet for fires to catch in the forest in any but the hottest of summers. Some of the damage to the village might take a little longer to fix. At least they had plenty of experience.

As he landed by their house and slid to the ground, however, a shout went up. “There he is!”

Hiccup frowned, turning. He had not expected anyone to greet them at all, save perhaps his father or Gobber, and certainly had not expected to be greeted by Mildew, staff in hand and scowl firmly in place. “What’s going on?” he said warily.

“There it is!” declared Mildew, pointing straight at Hiccup. “It and the boy both! If the Chief won’t deal with this danger, then we will!”

There were various rumbles off assent from those following him, and Hiccup saw a few weapons being readied in their owner’s hands. He stood defiantly in front of Toothless, or as defiantly as his short, scrawny frame had ever been capable of. “What are you talking about?”

“The fires,” snapped one of the men behind Mildew, and Hiccup’s head was whirling to the point that he couldn’t even tell who it was.

“Aye,” said another, “the beast’s a danger.”

“You said to give them a chance,” said Mudbreath, at Mildew’s elbow. That was the last thing that Hiccup needed. “They’ve had it. Your father is down there helping to put out the fires. Time you stopped them from happening. That beast needs to go.”

Hiccup backed up a step, towards Toothless, until Elsa’s cold touch met with the back of his arm and he knew that she was there as well. To their side, Astrid had climbed down from Stormfly and was standing defiantly in place. “It’s not like you’ve never had food poisoning, Mudbreath. That wasn’t an attack. That was an accident.”

“An accident?” snapped Mildew. “Aye, sure that’s what they’d like you to think. Who’s to say he isn’t just waiting for the chance to take you too?”

Even the oblique reference to his mother was enough to make Hiccup’s blood boil. His hands shook, and he could not even muster a reply, because those words should not have been on Mildew’s lips, Mildew had no right to say those things. His eyes bored into the man, but there was no fear on Mildew’s face, just malice in his eyes and a dark twist of pleasure to his mouth.

“It’s been moons, Mildew,” said Astrid. The old man barely gave her a glance, and even that was full of scorn. “I think they’d have had their chance by now.”

“And what was that?” Mildew gestured to the town below them. “Homes aflame, food spoiled!”

“Aflame?” That, at least, Hiccup could respond to. “A bit singed is not aflame, Mildew, and I’d have thought that you knew the difference. A badly-kept bonfire can do worse!”

“That doesn’t mean they should be left to burn. Fires should be put out. And so should dragons.”

Hiccup drew himself up. “If you so much as touch Toothless, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, boy? Set it on me? I’ve spent a lifetime killing dragons, you see if I can’t take this one.”

The pain behind his eyes was back again, bringing with it a red mist. There was a part of him, a small and angry part that was sick of being talked down to and even more sick of Mildew’s threats, still struck hard by the reference to his mother, that wanted to say Mildew was welcome to try. But he doubted there was anyone that could stand in Toothless’s way. Hiccup clenched his fists but did not rise to the challenge. “You will not touch him,” he promised. “Because I will not let you.”

“They don’t belong here,” said Mildew. “Not among men. And if you can’t see that, then perhaps you don’t either.”

Hiccup heard Elsa’s sharp intake of breath behind him, and saw Astrid’s eyes narrow dangerously as she stalked closer. Throwing up one hand and hoping that it would be enough to stop Astrid from doing anything foolish, he kept his words dangerously, unwaveringly level.

“This is my home,” he said. “As I am the son of the chief. You have been told like any of the others that if you will not accept the dragons, then it is on you to leave.”

“You are not chief. Perhaps we should go back to the old ways.”

The ways of fighting and bloodshed, when the strongest swords would wrench power from the previous chief. The ways that made rules short, bloody, and made people so obsessed with taking power from each other that they had no time for their people. The ways that were generations gone. “Say that again, Mildew, and it will be treason,” said Hiccup.

That, at least, was enough to make the old man pause for a moment. For once he had only humans around him, none of the ever-present sheep at his side, and though many of them were armed, he was not. Speaking against chiefhood was speaking against Stoick as well, and it would be all too easy to call that treason. “We didn’t come for you,” he said finally, with an edge to his voice that spoke of resentment for being forced to return to the issue of the dragons. “We came for them. That one first, then the others.”

Behind him, Toothless growled, but to Hiccup’s ears it sounded weary. One or two of the men behind Mildew took a step back.

“If you came for him, you came for me.”

It. He was sick of the word it on everyone’s lips, the dismissive way that some people still talked about dragons and wildlings both. And if people were smart enough to usually keep it out of his hearing, he dreaded to think how much of it he had missed.

Mudbreath strode forwards, eyes grim, and Hiccup had a terrible suspicion he was about to be bodily hauled out of the way. He braced himself against it, but before Mudbreath could come within three paces the temperature of the air around them dropped sharply, stinging cold against his skin, and spikes of ice shot up from the ground to knee-height between them.

“Stay away,” said Elsa warningly. Hiccup wasn’t sure whether he caught a tremble in her voice.

“Hiding behind a wildling,” scoffed Mudbreath, but he did take a step back.

Mildew spat on the ground. “A wildling, a dragon...” he glanced over at Astrid, “and the niece of Fearless Finn Hofferson. What a guard you have. But take them away, and what’s left?” his lip curled, but it didn’t much look like a smile. “Three-quarters of a boy who can hardly lift an axe and should have been left-”

“Enough,” said Hiccup firmly, but at the same moment Astrid stormed right up to Mildew, drawing a knife from her belt and gesturing warningly with it.

“What’s left is the one who killed the Red Death and bought the peace with the dragons,” she snarled. “Who has more brains than the rest of you put together.”

Hiccup stepped forwards and grabbed Astrid’s arm to pull her away. He could see Bloodstone readying her axe, and did not want this to turn to violence. There had been no deaths since the fight with the Red Death and the days afterwards, but there would be more from cold and hunger before the winter was out. They did not need to add to them like this. “Astrid,” he said softly.

He could never have expected Elsa to speak up as well. “And he has friends.”

“So it does speak,” said Mildew, into the silence that followed Elsa’s words. “I had heard rumours.”

Nobody dared to laugh. Hiccup glanced round, still pulling Astrid back, to see that Elsa had slipped off her bracelets but stood otherwise unarmed beside Toothless. The snow around her was a little thicker, and there were eddies and curls in it that did not look to be quite the work of the wind, but that was only if you knew to look for them.

Hiccup took a deep breath and finally released Astrid; she was as taut as a bowstring, but he hoped that she had enough control over her temper. “Go home, Mildew. You’ve left your sheep unattended again.”

“Is that a threat?” Mildew turned to those behind him. There looked to be more of them now, though there was every chance that those at the back had just overheard the noise and come out of curiosity. “Did you hear that? He threatened me! He threatened my flock!”

Some words of agreement, some of argument. It was the village meeting all over again, but this time there was an edge to the air, as tangible as the smell of smoke. “It was a suggestion that you stop picking fights,” replied Hiccup, raising his voice slightly. He stepped in front of Astrid. “And enjoy the peace.”

“Peace! What peace is there, while dragons are running wild through the town! You saw what happened today!” warming to his theme, Mildew addressed those behind him as much as he did Hiccup.

“The dragons have done nothing to harm anyone!” said Hiccup. “What happened today was an accident. Eel meat in the feeding station again,” he added, deliberately raising his voice this time. “They avoid it for a reason, and this is why!”

“Oh, sure,” said Mildew. “Because we know how much dragons hate to burn things.”

Two moons without anything, and now one eel threatened to undo it all. “How determined are you to make the dragons into the villains? Is it the peace that you can’t bear, or the thought of the dragons being here to share it? Can you not forget, or can you just not forgive in the first place?”

Mildew opened his mouth to give some reply or other, but before he could say a word Stoick marched into the centre of the crowd and hauled Hiccup backwards. “Enough!” he barked.

For a moment, Hiccup almost defied him. Just once more, just for the dragons again. He had wanted to take the hand of each Viking and hold it for Toothless to accept him, but there was part of him now that wanted to sit Mildew in front of Toothless and show him that dragons had more mercy than most humans Hiccup had ever known. But he held his tongue and gritted his teeth, and let Stoick look around at the bared weapons, the curious onlookers, the points of ice still sticking up from the ground. There was ash on Hiccup’s hands.

“I have no doubt that what happened today was an accident,” he said, looking pointedly at Mildew and his followers, “but be that as it may it was a dangerous one. People could have been hurt.” Now he was looking directly at Hiccup, and though there was not quite the sense of disappointment there had once been, the grim resignation that had taken its place was not something which Hiccup was so used to dealing with. “We can’t leave the dragons unattended. When they’re not being flown, they need to go back into the arena.”

“What?” protested Hiccup, only dimly aware that Mildew was grumbling as well. “You can’t send them back into there! This wasn’t Toothless’s fault, it was just eel in with the other fish! Surely we should be the ones who-”

“ -attended?” Mildew was complaining. “The beast was attended this morning, for all the good that did. You can’t expect children to-”

“Silence, both of you,” said Stoick, and whether or not it was out of habit that Hiccup complied, even he was not sure. “Hiccup is right; we must take some responsibility for this, and perhaps it was a mistake to go forward so rapidly. It will not happen again. But we cannot discount what has been achieved with the dragons. Astrid, take the Night Fury and the Nadder up to the arena - the academy. I’ll have the others follow you.”

But Astrid stood sullenly still, and Hiccup grabbed hold of his father’s arm. “You can’t mean Toothless as well!”

“All of the dragons,” said Stoick, with a momentary glare.

“But there...” Hiccup fought for an argument. “There’s no pen for him.”

“The Monstrous Nightmare’s is the strongest, and the largest. They will have to go into that one.”

Not so strong anymore, with most of the bars pared away from the doors and the weights lifted off. The metal had been given over to making more important things, the old heavy pulley system adjusted and reworked so that any of them could throw the lever with one hand. Hiccup did not point that out, however, and merely looked at his father in horror as Astrid finally shoved her knife back into its sheath and walked back over to Stormfly.

Stoick sighed. “Mildew, go home. And that goes for the rest of you, as well,” he added to the onlookers. Some of them would have been there to support Mildew, but most likely more had simply been wondering what was going on, and it would not have been fair to start allotting blame to each of them. He did not look away until they started to break up, and even Mildew could not meet his eyes for long before muttering something into his beard and turning away.

“Dad...” said Hiccup quietly. He backed up until he could run a hand over Toothless’s snout, and feel the reassuring rumble of his breathing. “You can’t do this.”

“I have to, Hiccup,” said Stoick, and there was something about his voice which made Hiccup painfully aware that it was the chief, and not the father, who was speaking. “Come home, now. We’ll speak more there.”

Hiccup shook his head. “If Toothless goes to the academy, then so do I.”

“Hiccup...” Stoick groaned.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t know how long the effect of the eel might last. Whether there might be something more to come. I’m not leaving him.”

“Will you at least listen-”

“I’ll see you at the academy,” said Hiccup. In one smooth movement he slid into Toothless’s saddle, locked his foot into the pedal, and opened the fin. Toothless chirped, glancing back over his shoulder. “Come on, bud. One more short flight.”

Toothless obediently spread his wings. Before Hiccup could have time to regret it, they were in the air, snow stinging in his eyes and on his lips, and he turned them towards the rocky outcrop where the academy lay.

Astrid was the first one to reach them, landing at the doorway and sliding to the floor. She led Stormfly in by the bridle, though the Nadder was still glancing around nervously. “Your father isn’t happy,” she said to the empty arena.

“Is he ever?” As he spoke, she turned, and must have caught sight of him. He was sitting on the floor in what had been Meatlug’s pen, Toothless’s head on his lap even if that was ridiculously heavy. Toothless snuffled and rubbed his cheek against Hiccup’s stomach.

Leaving Stormfly in the main arena, Astrid stepped into the pen as well, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “He’ll be here before too long. At least he didn’t send them away.”

“Toothless hasn’t been away from me since the Red Death,” said Hiccup. He let his hand rest on the back of Toothless’s neck, just above his shoulders and behind his fringe, where he could still feel the tension of the muscles. “And before that, he had Elsa. I’m not leaving him alone, now of all times.”

Astrid regarded him for a moment, hands on her hips and her head tilted. “What else is it?”

“I just... bah,” said Hiccup, shaking his head. “Two incidents with the dragons, and Mildew is there both times? It just feels like too much of a coincidence.”

Leaning against the wall of the pen beside him, Astrid folded her arms across her chest. The light was not good in here, even without the clouds and snow, and he could not see much of her expression from where he sat. “You know what your father will say. That Mildew is just making the most of any opportunity he can to speak out against the dragons.”

And what did Hiccup have? Elsa’s word that there were knife-marks in the sheep, a skinned eel, and his suspicions. Not enough for a hiccup, even one who was the son of the chief, to speak up against someone who had been a dragon-slayer once and who had lived on Berk and among its people for sixty years and more. “It just feels too neat,” he said.

“For him, maybe. An unholy mess, from our end.”

“You have a point.”

Hiccup let his head fall back against the rocky wall. He wished that he had a clue what to do, but this wasn’t something that could be solved with a blacksmith’s tools, or with a trollwort bracelet. It was harder to deal with the inside of people’s heads.

“Hiccup?” shouted Stoick, from outside. Grimacing, Hiccup started to push himself up to his feet, though Toothless murred in disappointment as he did so. “Astrid? Is Hiccup in there with you?”

Astrid straightened up and turned in the doorway. “Yes, chief.”

“I’m here, Dad,” said Hiccup wearily, stepping back out into the snow again. He set both hands on the head of his cane. “I’m sorry I ran off. Well, flew off.”

“I understand,” said Stoick. Hiccup had his doubts as to how much either of them actually believed that, but held his tongue. “I know this was an accident, never mind what Mildew was saying.”

A healthy eel, fully skinned. But it was too slender a thread to hang an accusation on. “Then why-”

“The dragons will be safer here, for now.”

Hiccup’s hand clenched into a fist. His father was right, of course; he had seen the axes and swords and angry faces today and before. It still didn’t make it right. “I’d rather be putting Mildew in the pens,” he said flatly.

To his surprise, his father snorted. “And you might not be the only one. But I hope it will only be for a short time. Until things are calmer again. Now come on, let’s head home.”

“I’m staying with Toothless,” said Hiccup again.

Stoick looked at him pointedly. “You’re coming home if I have to carry you, and hide your leg when we get there. Come on. Astrid can see the dragons safely into their pens.”

“Some of them won’t go in except for me.” Though he wasn’t sure whether it was exactly true, he did know that none of them yet had managed to persuade Hookfang or Stormfly to enter the pens, and that even going into the main arena again seemed to depend on their moods. This time, Hiccup did not back down from his father’s stern look, and eventually Stoick sighed.

“Fine. We’ll wait for them.”

Even if it wasn’t much time, Hiccup wanted it. He returned to his seat beside Toothless, wondering whether he would be able to sleep tonight without the slow sound of Toothless’s breathing from the far end of his room. He scratched gently around Toothless’s neck, earning a contented rumble and slight kneading from Toothless’s front paws, but his heart was not quite in it.

Stoick walked off, looking at the new doors and the new levers that controlled them, and once he was on the far side of the arena Astrid hunkered down beside Hiccup. “I can stay with them tonight, if you want.”

It wasn’t a case of a human being with the dragons; it was a case of the dragons being with the humans. But Hiccup wasn’t quite sure if he could explain that. “If you want to,” he said instead.

Astrid tucked her hair back out of her eyes. “We’ll still have them during the day. From tomorrow, at least. We can just spend the whole day up here instead.” She didn’t have to add, if the weather is good enough. This was Berk. If it was physically possible to open the doors, Vikings would be out and about.

He wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, scream or shout or cry and he really wasn’t sure which. After everything that the dragons had forgiven the humans for, Mildew and his ilk could not even forgive Toothless for eating something that made him sick.

Pressing her lips together, Astrid regarded him for a long moment, then looked up sharply and straightened up to look out of the pen. “The others are here,” she said.

“I hope someone bought dragon nip,” muttered Hiccup, getting to his feet again.

It transpired that Fishlegs had, sealed so tightly in a leather bag that the other dragons had not yet started bothering him for it. Or it could have been that it was still too early in the morning for that; Fishlegs was rubbing sleep from his eyes, and the twins were yawning too widely to do anything other than mumble insults at each other as they dismounted.

Hookfang was going to be the hardest, Hiccup suspected, and he got Toothless to settle down in the Monstrous Nightmare’s pen before trying to coax in the dragon himself. There was a wooden plaque over the door now, with the outline of a Nightmare carved into it, and the doors were an iron grille rather than the huge solid things they had once been. Even so, it took a lot of dragon nip and a fair bit of gentle pleading, gesturing at Snotlout to stay quiet, before Hookfang settled down and began to lick his wings again, and they closed the door as quietly as possible behind him.

When it came to Stormfly, Hiccup was glad that he had asked Astrid close the gate to the arena once they were all inside. She hopped around the arena, shrieking and snapping at them, until finally Astrid managed to talk her into the pen and Hiccup closed the door behind her. Stormfly continued to make her angry sounds and headbutted the door hard enough for it to rattle in its hinges; it stayed put, but Astrid winced and Hookfang started roaring as well.

“All right,” called Stoick above the gathering noise. Even Barf and Belch were starting to look awake enough to look concerned, and Meatlug was trying to huddle behind Fishlegs, Silversnap and Skyfire huddling between her front paws. “Let’s get this moving.”

From anyone other than his father, Hiccup would not have accepted such a comment. As it was, he gritted his teeth and concentrated on getting Barf and Belch into their new pen. Mercifully, they seemed as curious as they were wary, and were still sniffing at corners and poking at the new hinges when they were shut in.

Finally, Hiccup turned to Meatlug. “Come on, girl,” he said. She let him scoop up her hatchlings, keeping his arms around them tightly now to stop them from flying away, and waddled into the pen after him as he deposited them at the back. He slipped out of the door and Astrid closed it behind him, and he was not going to look back until Meatlug howled and one of the hatchlings came to settled on his shoulder.

Skyfire barrelled into Fishlegs and tried to hide beneath his vest. “It’s all right, baby,” he said. “You stay with your mother, now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hiccup, peeling Silversnap off his shoulder again. He pointed the hatchling back in the direction of the pen. “Go on, go back in.”

Meatlug gave another mournful sound. Silversnap flew towards her, then stopped and looked back at Fishlegs hopefully.

“Shouldn’t have changed the doors,” Stoick grumbled.

The old doors had been so solid that no light or fresh air entered the pens. They had made them into cells, dark and dank and stinking, and Hiccup was glad to see them gone. Even if it meant that they couldn’t hold hatchlings - or, for that matter, the Terrible Terror living in the Hofferson’s house. “Look, they’ll stay with her,” he said, more confidently than he felt. “And it’s only for the nights. Tomorrow morning we can come and get them and go flying again.”

The second time around, he knew that he could not look back, or he would want to run back and hide beneath Toothless’s wings and refuse to leave them at all. When Toothless whined, Hiccup stopped for a moment, warring with himself, but his father’s hand came to rest between his shoulderblades and steered him out before he could break and do what was right.

It was still snowing when they got back to Berk, still light and more a nuisance than anything else. The village was awake - shouts drifted up from the docks, smoke rose from chimneys, and Old Flounderson (no relation to Young Flounderson) was driving his sheep across town to what he considered the best winter grazing. It was, naturally, as far as possible from his own house.

“Fishlegs,” said Hiccup, as they reached the edge of town, “meet me at the Great Hall? Bring that book, and we’ll make a start.”

Fishlegs nodded eagerly, then looked across at Stoick with an increasingly wary expression.

“Book?” said Stoick.

“I owe Gobber a Book of Dragons,” said Hiccup. He was in no mood to be coy now, and not in the mood to eat either despite the pain in his gut. “And we’ve got more information to put in. I was going to head home and get my ink for the drawings. Is it all right if I borrow our Book for a starting point?”

“You said that you were coming home,” said Stoick.

Hiccup shrugged and waved vaguely around them. “I’m in Berk. That’s home. I’ll only be at the Great Hall.”

For a moment he saw something flicker in his father’s eyes, but as soon as it was there it was gone again, and he could not bring himself to ask. It felt wrong to not have Toothless as a black shadow in his peripheral vision, not to hear the soft pad of his feet or the rustle of his wings as he adjusted them. Like losing a leg that couldn’t be replaced with a prosthetic.

“All right,” said Stoick, more softly. “I’ll get Elsa to bring it over for you.”

Elsa as well. He had meant to speak to her, but had been drawn into a fight with Mildew and then stormed to the academy and back so quickly that he had not gotten the chance. Hiccup nodded, first to his father than to Fishlegs, and turned his steps towards the Great Hall.

“Does that mean we’re invited?” Tuffnut said in another of his bad whispers.

“I dunno,” said Ruffnut. Their voices became fainter as Hiccup continued walking away.

“I’m going home.” Snotlout sounded sullen, and slightly strangled, as if his throat was as tight as Hiccup’s felt. “Gotta... clean some weapons.”

Someone jogged lightly up beside him, and Hiccup did not even need to guess whether or not it was Astrid before she appeared beside him. “We’re all angry about this, Hiccup.”

“They sounded more upset than angry to me,” he replied, jerking his head in the vague direction of the others.

Astrid huffed. “Not everyone expressed their anger like I do, you know.”

That, at least, made him smile a little. “Probably a good thing, or we wouldn’t have any trees left on the island.”

She punched him on the arm, but it was soft enough to hardly make him rock in place. “Exactly. We’ll get the dragons out somehow.”

“Thank you,” he said, finally turning to look at her. Astrid smiled, eyes looking bluer than usual with the sky all grey and white behind her. “Do you want to join us working on the new Book?”

“Sorry,” she replied, with a grimace. “I promised my mother I’d help her collect some wicker today, as long as the snow wasn’t too bad. This won’t count. I might be able to swing by later, though.”

“Sounds good.” Hiccup considered kissing her on the cheek, but before he could decide whether or not that was actually a good idea Astrid had dropped out of step with him and turned back towards the main body of the village, leaving him to continue the steps up to the Great Hall alone.

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