Tempered Flames: Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Darkness had come over the isle of Berk. The heavy scent of the evergreens blew down from the mountain as Hiccup slowly made his way through the forest and up to the peak. Stars marked the heavens, illuminating his path through the darkness.

Three years ago, the hike from the village to the cliffs would have exhausted Hiccup. Now, it was as simple as a walk through the woods. Yet the ease was not a comfort for the young man. It seemed as if nothing could temper his frustrations with today, and the ill feeling for the content that he knew what tomorrow would bring.

The freshness of the night air filled his lungs as he mounted a log, trudging over it towards the opening in the tree line. After a moment, he heard the heavy footfall of his hidden companion traipsing onto the log before hopping down onto the dirt behind. 

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder and looked into the luminescent green eyes of his closest friend. The dragon, Toothless, held his wings firmly pressed into his back, his black scales as dark as night. The ‘unholy offspring of lightning and death’ pranced forth in an innocent feline manner, keeping pace with Hiccup as they ascended to the cliffs. 

“Almost there, Bud,” Hiccup intoned.

He turned back to the front and passed through the tree line. The sudden noise of the surf broke over him as it did the rocks hundreds of feet below. Dirt gave way to stone beneath his feet and he continued onward till he reached the edge.

A gust of wind whisked past him before traveling down, down, the cliffs and into the sea. The chill blew through his weathered jerkin though his skin was accustomed, and he hardly felt it. Upon his back he carried a large backpack filled with two changes of clothes, some basic provisions, and a large book.

Hiccup stood upon the edge of the rock and looked upon the churning water with placid expression. The toes of his boots hung over the edge and he stood without fear as he watched far below. Hiccup had lost his sense of vertigo.

He spotted two longboats pulling in from lighting the fires of the grand statues off the coastline. The wooden docks seemed to wrap round the shorter cliffs before flowing up into the raw assortment of small, well-tended homes. Houses which, Hiccup noticed, were finally beginning to look aged. 

The soft glow of comfortable fires emanated from the village. Faintly, he could make out the shapes of people, of Vikings, as the working party milled about late at night, moving stuff to and from the grand hall. Large folk moving larger tables, chairs, and other assortments. Setting up for tomorrow’s feast no doubt. After all, it was a celebration.

Again, his eyes fell down beneath him. Down to the sea-sharpened rocks below. Purposefully, the lad raised his hand over his chest and over his light green tunic. His heartbeat was slow and steady.

Hiccup opened his mouth, let it hang for just a moment. A sudden lump had developed in his throat, a feeling of tension and worry that struck out at his center. 

After a moment, he tried again.

“This,” Hiccup spoke to nobody, “is Berk.”

The old familiar phrase was a comfort to him, an easy and true fact that he could latch onto. As he stood upon the cliffside, gazing down into the cold and unforgiving abyss of the sea bellow, his mind clawed for that stability.

“How many generations have we… have they,” he amended, “been here?” Hiccup lifted one of his leather boots and let it hit back against the edge. Loose pebbles tumbled hundreds of feet, clattering down the rockface before disappearing over the water below. “Seven. We’re the lucky ones, born on this cold island of misery.”

He grunted and leaned forward. Gravity’s hold on him began to pull him downward. He didn’t flinch at the shifting weight.

“Vikings are hardy. They’re strong… stubborn…” he leaned down, before sitting atop of the cliff. His legs dangled freely over the edge and he gazed openly upon the village. “That’s why Berk has been here for so long,” he muttered to himself. “And they will maintain it even after we’re gone.”

The approaching footfall was, at first, expected. Yet something in it alarmed the young man. It was far too soft, not paced evenly for the loping grace of the four-legged dragon. 

Hiccup started, turning quickly and gripping the edge of the cliff as a solid female voice picked up. “Who are you talking to?” asked the Viking girl as she came out of the trees.

Hiccup’s eyes went wide, instantly capturing the questioning look on the girl’s pale face in the glowing moonlight before he registered her long, braided hair or the plane strength of her body. “A-A-Astrid,” he stammered. “Oh, umm, h-how, err…”

Hiccup turned, his feet unconsciously confident of their hold on the earth as he stood back up in partial alarm. Instantly, his neck snapped from her to whipping about in fear of exposure before, in one of the large evergreens, he spotted the sparkling green eyes and the dark silhouette of Toothless, hidden.

“How are… you?” he finished, turning back to the girl.

Astrid Hofferson tilted a blonde eyebrow as she smirked at him. Her bright blue eyes shimmered in the late night’s stars. “Good,” she replied, though he could hardly hear her over the beating of his heart. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Hiccup awkwardly put his hands around his waist, hugging himself uncomfortably. “Oh… you know. Just myself, I guess.” He tried not to look to Toothless. If Astrid knew… if anyone knew…

She seemed to enjoy his discomfort. Her smile grew wider as she came closer, further from the darkness of the trees. Her hair had grown out more over the last few years, becoming more voluminous though she still tucked her bangs to the side. She pushed it further outward over her ear now and exposing her fair face to the pale glow. “Make for good conversation?” she asked.

Hiccup chuffed. “No,” he shrugged, “pretty terrible to be honest.”

“Awe, that’s a shame,” she said. She walked up to the cliffside and looked out, though her gaze seemed solely directed towards the village. “I could use someone to talk to.”

Hiccup scrunched his eyes, confused. He moved to stand next to her, though she didn’t look at him. “What about?” he asked.

She nodded towards the village, towards the Vikings making ready. “What do you think?” she chuckled. “The whole village is getting ready to celebrate. But…” she shook her head. 

“What?” Hiccup asked.

Astrid was quiet for a moment. Her eyes found her lap before slightly turning towards his end. “Everyone’s just so excited that we’re starting our dragon training. They can’t wait for our generation of slayers.”

The way she said it made Hiccup uncomfortable. He was as sure that Astrid was a Viking, almost as sure as that he wasn’t. She was a natural fighter, strong headed and gifted, and as driven as anyone as he’d seen on Berk. The very thought of her dedication shamed him, he who had come to the cliffs with the intention of never returning to the village below.

The silence that hung between them was exceptionally awkward, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Finally, she spoke up. “I passed your father on the way here,” she told him.

Hiccup sighed. Looking towards the village, he was almost sure he could pick his dad out of the crowd of fuzzy ants. Just look for the biggest, beefiest one carrying the heaviest load. The village chieftain hid from nobody, nor would designate work he couldn’t carry. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s been at the smithy talking with Gobber about setting up all week. He has got the dragons locked away in the arena already, set up a couple of basic training classes.” He forced a tight smile. “He’s been waiting for this.”

It was then that he realized the eyes watching him carefully. Astrid’s baby blue eyes were soft as the night sky looking upon him. The freckles over her nose stood out sharply on her fair skin. A cloud passed over the moon, shifting the brightness of her skin to a darker shade, and the light of her eyes seemed to dwindle, yet only a bit.

Hiccup felt the tension return to his throat as he placed himself once more upon the edge. It was different now, though. The hammering in his chest, the blood in his veins, the rush. 

Astrid sighed and looked away, back towards the village. “They’re all excited,” she said. “All the others… Ruffnut and Tuffnut have been… well, have been trying, to build their own axes.”

“I’m sure that’s going well,” Hiccup said.

Astrid snorted. “Well, it’s given me plenty of first aid practice.” Her voice picked up and she found her feet. “Then there’s Fishlegs, who won’t stop pestering everyone about The Book of Dragons not being in the library, as if he doesn’t already have it memorized.”

Hiccup’s bag felt a bit heavier. “Oh… haha,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Well, he could probably just write a new one. That’s what I thought, anyway.”

“That’s what I said!” Astrid complained, thankfully missing the tone in his voice behind her desire to vent. “He’s probably just freaking out because he can’t remember the exact weight of a Deadly Nadder or something.”

“Two-thousand six-hundred and twenty-eight pounds,” Hiccup replied automatically.

“Thank you,” Astrid waved at him. Then she froze.

Hiccup’s eyes were wide, staring out at the open sea. If he jumped right now, he was pretty sure Toothless would be able to grab him before he hit the rocks below. Pretty sure.

Quietly, he listened as Astrid moved next to him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye now, leaning out fearlessly over the drop to try and catch his eye. “How do you know that?” she asked.

Hiccup hurriedly glanced at her before looking to his hands on the rock. “W-well, you know, all Vikings should read up on The Book of Dragons right? Just because there hasn’t been an raid in three years, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be prepared.” He lifted his arm and swung it to emphasize his point.

Astrid’s eyes searched his face. The cloud passed, brightening her skin and the twinkle in her eyes. “I’m asking how you know. Not anyone else.”

Hiccup coughed. “I’m not… erm, following.”

“I know you’re not,” Astrid said, “that’s my point. The end of the dragon raids was probably the best thing that ever happened to you. We’ve been sidelined and waiting until this day,” she tapped the rock, “because we were waiting for our group to be old enough. Yet in three years, I haven’t seen you pick up a… a knife, much less an axe. Yet you’re still getting stronger, growing taller. Don’t think that because nobody else notices means I don’t!” she gestured.

Hiccup snorted. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant!” Astrid replied hotly. “When I asked your dad where you were, all he said was,” she tried to deepen her voice and swung her arms back and forth in a horrendous imitation, “‘Oh, you mean he ain’t back at home? He’s probably out hiking again.’”

Hiccup raised a finger, “Now, see, that was terrible. You didn’t even call me,” he deepened his own voice and tossed on a horrendous accent, “‘wee lad.’” 

Despite herself, Astrid laughed. Hiccup could tell that it made her mad by how her nose flared and how she tried to clamp down on her smile. “I’m serious!” she called, reaching out and batting him on the shoulder hard enough that it lightly stung.

A noise from the forest startled the young pair. Astrid rose to her feet, battle ready in a moment’s notice, a small personal hatchet withdrawn from her waist before Hiccup had even registered the breaking of branches. Snap, snap, snap, it sounded as if a tree had come loose and indeed began to tumble to the side as another cloud passed over the moon, dimming the light of the night.

The tree tumbled to the left, slamming against another and bringing it down. As it fell, a shadow moved to the right, passing into the underbrush with only a faint flicker of movement. The absence of color rather than the illusion of a tangible source.

Astrid was breathing heavily, looking at the downed tree. Slowly, Hiccup found his feet. 

He raised a placating hand over Astrid’s hatchet, lowering it and trying not to look into the bushes. Trying to hide the distrusted weapon from Toothless’s sharp and fretful sight. “Woah, I guess they do make sounds, eh?” he joked.

Astrid sighed, putting a hand over her heart. “That scared the crap out of me,” she breathed. “I thought… well, I don’t know what I thought,” she chuckled through her breath, returning the axe to her band.

Hiccup sighed inwardly in relief. 

“Is this what you do when you come out here?” Astrid asked. “Just… hike around?”

“Well, that, and catch falling trees.”

Astrid puckered her lips into a disapproving pout, though now he could see the darkness of red in her cheeks. “You’re lucky you’re funny,” she said. “Maybe you can tell the Deadly Nadder some jokes about her weight. At least she’ll be laughing when she steps on you.”

Hiccup grimaced. “I’d rather avoid being stepped on. Or smothered in most capacities, I think.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed. Sighing, she turned back to the ocean, and Hiccup realized for the first time the outfit she wore. 

Like him, Astrid was clothed in warm furs around her upper body. Unlike him, she had probably hunted the animals herself to make it. Her outfit was mostly light leather, with chords around her gauntlets and shoulder pauldrons tying it tight to her fit body, which only caused the cumbersome dark wooden shield on her back to look further out of place. 

Astrid wore the outfit very well as the night air blew through her long blonde hair. She was slender, but not quite skinny. The way her fur skirt curved into her hips, or how it came out near her chest showed the effect of the easier life of the past three years on her as well.

Berk used to be a busy island. The Vikings of the Harry Hooligan tribe had taken pride in their conflict, especially that with their enemies for life. The threat that dragons posed to them was ever present and always growing. That was until it abruptly vanished three years ago. Stoick the Vast was now credited with ending the dragon war… as if Hiccup didn’t already have enough to live up to with his father. 

Yet, Hiccup knew what most on Berk didn’t know, or didn’t care about. Stoick hadn’t single-handedly found the dragons nest and punch every single one of them into submission like some stories floating around were beginning to suggest.

It was another man that had found the nest. Hiccup had seen him only twice, yet the visage played out before his eyes right before him.

He remembered the man’s pale skin, and his close-cropped gray hair. He remembered the power in his arms, and the odd way he seemed to refuse to cover his legs beneath dark red tunic. He had had no beard, nor facial hair of any kind, and always kept a bronze short sword close at hand, the blade only just visible inside of a leather holster upon his belt.

Yet what Hiccup remembered most about the man wasn’t his odd armor nor his dark, furrowed brow. It was the crest he bore upon his chest. The brightness of silver smelted into the shape of a wolf, with large topaz in the place of its glittering eyes. It was the only real color added to the military uniform, but it made it stand out so sharply in his memory. The wolf seemed to be watching all that was around it.

He was shocked back to the present by a slight knocking on the side of his head. “Hey, Earth to Hiccup? You in there?”

He shook his head, before looking back to Astrid. “Yeah, s-sorry,” he laughed, “just lost my train of thought.”

Astrid let a breath travel out into the night air, joining him while he peered out over the sea. Far below, there was a chorus of calls from the village. A cheer of celebration as the lights outside the great hall were lit.

Hiccup’s voice was low and dripping with an almost bitter quality as he muttered. “Midnight.”

He saw the look on her face. It wasn’t pity, as Astrid held pity for nobody. The girl solidly believed every person was capable of doing their utmost. But there was something deeper there. A sense of understanding that Hiccup didn’t see from… well, from any Viking. After a moment, she spoke. “Do you remember my uncle?”

Hiccup scrunched his eyes at her. Out of everything he’d expected, this was far down the line. He thought for a moment. “Honestly… not… really.”

“Maybe it’s better that way,” Astrid shrugged. “Fearless Finn Hofferson. Froze in terror before a terrifying dragon known as-”

“The Flightmare,” Hiccup said. He’d read the book cover to cover now, and the famous dragon now known as ‘Hofferson’s Bane’ leapt to his memory. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner.

Astrid didn’t seem to take any offense. Instead, her pensive expression merely nodded. “Yeah. Over ten years ago, the Flightmare came to our island. My uncle, Fearless Finn, challenged it all by his lonesome. When the time came, he froze. And the dragon killed him.”

Hiccup’s lips were pulled tightly. He didn’t know what to say. He remembered the case in full detail. The Book of Dragons wasn’t kind to Astrid’s family name after that. For years, the word ‘fearless’ had become a joke to most of the older Vikings.

Astrid filled the silence. “I wanted nothing more than to join him. For years and years, I anticipated our training. I trained since I was a little kid… I trained alone, and with anyone who would teach me. Heck I spared with your dad a few times. When we turned fifteen, I thought that I’d finally get the chance to really test my skills. And then… everything stopped.” She leaned back, resting on her hands as her legs dangled free. “The war was over. The raids ended, and all we’ve done is just... sit here, you know?”

He didn’t know. He knew he was supposed to lie, supposed to tell her he did. But how many trips had he taken with Toothless in the past three years? 

How many deep forest hikes had turned into them flying off to the nearby islands, charting their tiny map?

How many dragons had he met in those years? 

How wrong were the Vikings in thinking they had been exterminated? 

How quickly would they decided that they needed to be?

He tried to pull himself away from the conversation. Death, to the Vikings, was an occupational hazard. Consequences of war, of violence, of their lives.

Yet, looking now upon Berk, how right was his father to send the man to end the threat? Whatever he had done, the raids had ended. The dragons no longer came for their livestock, no longer pestered their lands and destroyed their homes. Now, they could grow lazy, soft, and fat with pleasant easy lifestyles.

Yet they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. He saw the bloodthirst in their eyes as they talked about slaying dragons. Killing as if they were destroying a hive of wasps. Astrid’s reasoning seemed different, but then… everyone on Berk has lost someone to the dragons.

Even, he reminded himself, you.

He felt his eyes pulled down to the stone as thoughts of his mother again plagued his mind. She surfaced there often nowadays. What would she say to know of his friendship with the dragons? 

A hand on his shoulder summoned his attention, and he saw Astrid’s kind eyes. They stared into one another for a few moments, linked with one another. In that breath, Hiccup felt fear begin to infect his heart. What if she could see into him? What if she knew?

He looked away from her soul piercing eyes and again thought of casting himself from the cliff, now entirely sure that Toothless would catch him. He felt his core tighten and realized the hammer beating upon his center. He wouldn’t kill them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he made his choice. He would not kill a dragon. And if that meant that he wasn’t a Viking…

Her voice gripped him firm, and he was unable to escape the tone as it wrapped around him. The wash of the sea, the wind on high, all of it only complimented the tenderness in her voice and threw his thoughts about her own stalwartness into a loop.

“It bothers me, Hiccup,” Astrid said. “It bothers me very much that, this whole week, nobody will shut up about dragon training. Today’s a celebration, but nobody seems to understand why. Not even your father.”

He blinked, feeling the emotions straining him. He tried not to look at her, felt the lump in his throat.

Astrid shifted. She withdrew the round shield from behind her back and held it in her lap for just a moment before passing it to him.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” she said sheepishly. “You’re up here so often by yourself… I’ve tried looking for you before, to ask if you’d like to train. I… I admire how dedicated you’ve been. Even though you won’t show anyone, I can see the results just in how you walk and how you hold yourself.” 

She placed a hand on his arm, though he still couldn’t bear to look at her.

“You’re not the same lanky kid three years ago that tried to convince us all he shot down a Night Fury.” Her tone was light, and he could tell it was meant to be kind. A little joke, to show how far he’d come. Yet it stung all the same. “So… I got you this.”

Finally, Hiccup was able to steel his gaze. He looked down upon the gift, flipping it over to reveal the face.

The shield had been hewn of dark oak, stained till it was black. The scarlet centerpiece glimmered in the bright light of the moon, flanked on either side by matching craftsman hammer. On the top of the shield, burned into the wood in Astrid’s stylized handwriting were the ‘Forged in fire’.

“Happy eighteenth birthday, Hiccup,” she said, patting him on the back.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Thank you,” he nodded. He then turned to face her, to look back into her blue eyes. “Thanks Astr-”

But she was already getting up, turning back towards the woods. “You better not use it in the arena,” she said over her shoulder, “I’m gonna get really mad if you get it scuffed up.”

“A-Astrid,” Hiccup called back. “Wait!”

She ignored him, but the way that she walked, how she meandered, it called out to him. He found his feet and moved, hurrying after her.

“Hey, come on, wait up!”

As he caught her, he noticed her averted eyes yet the large smile on her face and the bright pink on her cheeks. “Oh? Gonna come and walk me home? Or are you just going back to the library to return The Book of Dragons?”

He chuckled. So she had read him. He wondered how much. “Eheh, sure,” he said cautiously.

“Good,” she stepped forward. “I thought you were gonna keep me waiting even longer. I’m nearly nineteen now, you’re the last one to finally turn eighteen you know!”

He blew out his tongue. “I know I know,” he said exasperated. “I’m the baby of the litter.”

“Hmmph,” Astrid said. She crossed her arms before rolling her eyes and shooting him a conspiratorial grin. “Anyways, who know what I could run into on the walk back down, all by my,” she threw on her accent of Stoick again, “‘wee little girly self?’”

Hiccup snorted before breaking into a genuine laugh. “See, that was better.” He pointed, “but girly wouldn’t be an insult for you.”

“Oh?” she asked. “And would it be for you?”

“Mhmm,” he replied.

She thumped him on the shoulder with a solid fist that caused him to yowl into a pained laugh. “What’s so wrong with being girly?” she demanded, hidden inside of a pink smile.

His heart thumped inside of his chest, no longer weighed down into his stomach. It was as light as air and finally, he felt as if he were almost flying. “I’m kidding!” he coughed, raising the shield defensively. “Kidding.”

Behind them, a deep growl emanated from the forest.

Hiccup realized too late his defensive stance would only encourage the oncoming attack. His loyal dragon was ferociously smart but would absolutely misinterpret the playful hostility of the female Viking.

He saw him moving a second later, the dark shadow and brilliant green eyes bounding through the trees.

“No, wait!” he called, stepping in front as Astrid moved for her axe.

A terrible explosion erupted from behind the pair. The evergreens on Berk were blasted nearly sideways, needles and forestry tossed through the air and he felt Astrid slam into his back before he too toppled forward. 

He looked up, the familiarity of adrenaline spiking his veins. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as it had during emergency flights upon his fast-moving dragon. 

That hadn’t been Toothless. The dragon had come to a stop just before him, black scales clearly illuminated by the orange light of the explosion. His bright green eyes were huge, dilated with shock as he peered through the trees.

Hiccup turned to see the fireball through the line of the forest. So large was it that it crested over the top of the hill. Astrid had flopped over and into a bush, her slower instinct plainly showing as she kicked uselessly into the air, grunting. His mind immediately assigned the area, and thereby Astrid, as safe.

“Move,” he said simply to Toothless.

The dragon understood and caught him as he rushed forward before leaping forth on all fours. He moved rapidly through the trees with graceful speed, dodging around as Hiccup settled into the harness. He clicked both of his heels into place, taking practiced control of Toothless’s instincts. The pair meshed together as they broke from the trees and Toothless took to the air.

Toothless was not unholy, but Hiccup was having a harder time with his internal debate that the dragon wasn’t born of lightening. The way he leapt into the air, the swiftness in which they raced across the island together, the absolute rush Hiccup felt as they meshed their minds and moved as partners, it was electrically empowering.

He pulled up on the reigns, “Let’s get an aerial view, Bud.”

The dragon pulled up, flying up towards the top of the growing cloud of dust. The winds were stronger up here, but it was warm too. A strong updraft spawned from the sudden heat of the powerful explosion.

Hiccup loosed a sigh of relief as he realized that the explosion had come from farther down the island than the seaside town. Higher inland, towards the deep-set stone. 

The cloud of debris was immense, even bigger than he’d thought as they drew closer. He tried to factor in how powerful the explosion must have been, how hot the center must have burned, when he realized where they were.

The landscape of the dragon arena was gone. A huge, sheer crack in the stone had sent much of the cliff tumbling down into the sea, splitting it hundreds of feet downwards. He tried to look through as they sailed into the dust.

The metal arena was, quite simply, gone. Blown apart or taken by the sea, Hiccup couldn’t even spot a single melted beam. What he did see alarmed him and had him tugging back on Toothless’s reigns. They flew higher, using the smoke to obscure themselves, as a handful of dragons flew past on heavy wings. 

There was a variety of types. Hiccup recognized the ones he knew the Berkians had kept. The Monstrous Nightmare had already set itself aflame, clearly illuminated as it passed out of the debris. Others followed, including the Gronckle, Deadly Nadder, and the Hideous Zippleback. It took him a moment, but he was even able to spot the handful of Terrible Terrors. Then Hiccup saw another, and even in the hot air he felt his insides chill.

A dragon roared before the released pack. It’s shrill shout and slender body set claws to Hiccup’s ears, but it was the pointed sharp quills that alarmed him. The other dragons halted before it as it spread it’s wings wide and tucked its neck back, releasing bolts of lightning from it’s jaw in a fiery display.

Toothless growled.

“That’s a Skrill,” Hiccup whispered. “We better stay back, boy. We haven’t seen one of those yet, and it seems that… wait… no, that couldn’t make sense.” Hiccup looked from the fearsome dragon to the hewn rock below. 

Whether it made sense or not didn’t seem to matter to the Skrill as it tucked it’s wings inward and spun on the current of the air, breathing a sharp bolt of lightning and seemingly disappearing.

“It’s riding the lightening,” he breathed in awe.

The other dragons began to follow the path of the electrical current. Some of them flew lamely, obviously tired from their imprisonment, but they flew together all the same. 

Hiccup stayed for a while, watching their retreating form. The occasional pulse of electricity led them away from the island. 

Beneath him, Hiccup could feel Toothless stirring. He looked down to see the bright green eyes of his companion looking up at him.

“You want to go after them, don’t you Bud?”

Slowly, Toothless seemed to nod.

Hiccup sighed, thinking. “They’re free now,” he said. “This is… this is a good thing, I think. Somehow.” He looked back to them, watching as they flew away. “I still don’t understand. How did the Skrill know they were in there? And how does a lightning breathing dragon form such a massive explosion?”

His thoughts were interrupted as suddenly, from high in the clouds, another dragon descended. It was too far away to identify, but it moved with intense speed as it ducked down into the crowd. The dragon was dotted with a small number of pointy spikes and had a large horn on its snout.

Hiccup fumbled for the guide before deciding it’d be a waste to look now, instead trying to commit details to memory. The dragon had dark skin, nearly blending into the night as it grew further away. Likely a member of the sharp class of dragons due to the spikes. Medium sized.

Something had happened here, yet Hiccup couldn’t be sure what. The face of Berk had been changed in a single motion, with a now sheer cliff hanging over huge rocks that jutted out from the sea. Most importantly, though, was that Berk now had no dragons.

Hiccup felt oddly elated as he realized this. A shout went up from below as the first of the villagers were arriving to the scene. Hiccup pulled up on Toothless’s reigns. “Come on, Bud. We better get out of here.”

As they flew, Hiccup realized for the first that that he was holding Astrid’s shield firmly in his lap. He didn’t quite know how to process what had just happened, and went over the details in his head. 

Somehow, some way, those dragons had known not only about Berk, but about the arena. They’d known about the imprisoned dragons and then acted on that knowledge. They’d essentially blown up the arena, trusting to the dragon’s fireproof exteriors to keep them safe from the detonation. But a Skrill, known for being one of the most territorial creatures in existence, teaming up with a… Hiccup didn’t even know what.

He felt suddenly tired, though a couple of drips of elation smacked into him as Toothless lightly glided them down into a secluded area. “I guess somebody is looking out for me,” he told Toothless, scratching hm behind the ear as he dismounted. “I don’t think they can ask me to train against dragons that don’t exist.”

Still, something implicitly bothered Hiccup about the whole thing. Beyond the selfish reasoning, his home had just been attacked. Likely, the other dragons frowned on the Vikings imprisoning dragons, but they’d never done anything like this before.

He wished he could know why.

“What do you think?” he asked Toothless. “Wanna get some birthday trout with me and talk that over?”

Toothless uncaringly scratched one of his legs up to his ear.

“Oh, come ‘ere. Lemme get that,” Hiccup instructed.