Twenty-Four.

He refused to speak any further, curling up and dozing on the steps as she finished the deep red tunic and rechecked the hem. Stoick had half-finished the leggings and Astrid completed them as well, her skills at sewing nowhere near as developed as her axe-wielding talents but more than sufficient to the task. She stared at the little curled shape, twitched the fur higher over his freckled shoulder and laid the clothes by him, then left. His words had really concerned her-because she could no longer imagine a Berk without Hiccup.

She went to speak to Gobber, because Hiccup had been right: the man loved and knew him far better than his father ever had. The blacksmith inspected her and listened to what she had to say and then he sighed.

"Yer right, lass," he admitted. "It's not the place for him-though Stoick, the old fool, doesn't see that. The boy has been hurt as badly as he could be-and every time he gets to draw breath, some idiot sneers another insult at him. But I know a place he can be for the moment. In fact...I'll go and see if I can arrange it now..."

When Astrid returned to the House, Hiccup had woken and was clothed in his new tunic and leggings, looking warmer but still very battered. She stole a glance at him and then walked forward. "I've brought Toothless," she said in a low voice. "Get your things and grab a couple of those furs." He frowned but didn't argue, rising to hop back to his bed and grab his boot and prosthesis. She watched him grimace in pain as he tightened the straps and the metal leg tightened against his raw stump. Then he pulled on his boot and wrapped the fur around his body. Astrid sighed, grabbed another fur and helped him limp painfully through the door and out to his dragon. His face lit and he stumbled to Toothless, embracing him silently for a long time. Then he painfully slid into the saddle.

Astrid jumped onto Stormfly and they soared up over the village, then looped down over the plaza and skimmed to the very edge of the village. They landed by the Elder's little house, perched on a seasick on the very edge of the town, connected by a long stair to the ramp to the harbour. Hiccup raised his wary green eyes and stared at her. "Astrid?" he asked shakily.

"Hiccup, Gothi has said she will look after you for the moment. She has room for you and Toothless and she lives far enough away from the main part of town to allow you some space. You can still access the forge, the Great Hall and the Arena but you don't have to put up with everything they have done to you," she explained, holding out the second fur. The boy gaped as she slid off her Nadder and held her hand out to him, helping off the Night Fury. He stared at her and fashioned a very small smile.

"Th-thanks," he murmured as the tiny, hunched shape of the Elder emerged and beckoned him into her home. He cast Astrid a wary glance, then limped after Gothi, with Toothless at his back. The tiny Elder scowled at him and then tapped his metal leg with her staff, jerking her head to a seat. She frowned until he reluctantly took the prosthesis off, then she grabbed his knee and inspected the stump. She rolled her eyes and smeared an ointment onto the raw wounds again. He gulped and stared at her until she sagged and ruffled his scruffy hair gently. "Er, Gothi...what do you want me to do to earn my keep?" he asked softly. She cocked a look over her shoulder as she bent over her fire and shook her head. Her eyes seemed to say 'Nothing. Just rest.'

He sat self-consciously as she gave him a herbal tea that was warm and fragrant and a sturdy yak broth that was so thick a spoon could stand up in it. Once he had eaten, she limped over and dropped a huge volume in his lap. She tapped it and then pointed at him. "You-you want me to read this?" he asked. She nodded and then vanished out onto the deck that overlooked the sea. She had acquired a couple of small Terrible Terrors and she didn't like leaving then for too long because they squabbled and set her kindling on fire. He could hear the angry squawks of the feisty little dragons as they tumbled across the decking and then looked at Toothless, who had managed to curl himself almost totally around the boy. Hiccup leaned back and found himself supported agains Toothless's warm, scaly side. His eyes were growing heavy as he opened the hardened leather cover and peered at the first page.

When Gothi came in at dusk, the book had slipped onto the floor and Hiccup was sleeping peacefully against his dragon, his breaths calm and easy. She picked up the book of remedies-he had actually read through ten pages before he fell asleep-and restored it to its place on her shelf-then cut fish for the Terrors and Night Fury and stirred the brewing tea. The boy couldn't stay forever but she would look after him until he got his strength back.

She kept a cot in her hut for badly wounded or very sick villagers who needed her close attention and she helped the boy onto the cot and heaped the furs onto him. She salved his wounds, fed him more broth and bread and a different tea that had him drowsy and drifting back to sleep soon after he had drained the cup. She stared down at the sprawled, battered shape and then glanced in the direction of the village: sometimes, she wondered if Stoick could be a worse father. He had rejected his son throughout the last five or six years, barely accepted him when he saved the village almost at the cost of his own life but had never made Hiccup feel confident, comfortable or truly accepted and valued. That he would exile his son was utter madness and his subsequent actions had angered the Elder. Hiccup was a distant blood relative of Gothi through his mother-though the boy did not know this-and she was not going to let him suffer any more.

The next day was much the same. Hiccup had woken and been fed and dressed and then he had sneaked out for a morning ride on Toothless. Gothi had scolded him-well, slapped him with her staff-and padded and redressed his stump. He had dozed through the morning then gone to help Gobber in the afternoon, enduring the now-familiar sneers of slave and slut and Gobber's increasingly frustrated denials that he was having anything to do with anyone's weapons. The boy snorted. He had made the majority of the village's weapons for the last couple of years and had worked hard even when he returned to be worthy of keeping. The constant rejection only hardened his resolve not to stay.

Stoick didn't come to find him-presumably because Gobber had told him where Hiccup was. But that did little to dispel the boy's belief that his father truly didn't care. When he saw the big shape stride purposefully by without even casting his watching son a glance, he knew there was precisely no chance of his ever being accepted in the village. Hiccup had already worked out that the Hooligans would only ever get the message if their Chief rubbed their noses in his reconciliation with his son and led by example. It was something Stoick was able to do in every other area of life-but never as a father. In fact, Stoick seemed to have gone back to ignoring Hiccup and as the grief-stricken boy took a shuddering and miserable breath, he made his decision.

He went for lunch with Gobber that day and had endured the blizzard of insults and comments and-worse-he had seen his abusers eating further down the Hall. It had taken all his courage not to break and run and instead, avert his eyes and walk robotically to his seat. But his appetite had gone and he found his palms sweating and heart racing. An iron band seemed to have tightened around his chest and he inspected his plate carefully, picking his chicken leg to tiny shreds as Gobber rambled on and polished off his supersize portion. Then the blacksmith finally looked at his battered and mute apprentice.

"Wassup?" he asked directly. Hiccup stared at the table for a few moments, then, slowly, gestured with his spoon. The big blacksmith followed the direction until his eyes alighted on the cluster of guards, laughing and joking at the table. It was clear no one had even been punished for the assault on the boy.

"Gotta go!" Hiccup told him in a low voice and pushed away from the table, turning and accelerating into a shambling run as he dodged through the villagers and raced down the stairs, wincing as he jarred his sore stump but beyond caring. Gobber cast the oblivious guards a vicious look and lumbered to his feet. Despite Stoick's insistence on taking his boy home, nothing had changed. And it seemed to Gobber that nothing would ever change unless the Chief made it happen. He had spoken about calling a Thing, the village parliament, but so far, he had done nothing. Gobber wondered if the man had changed his mind. So he ambled off after the skinny shape, running awkwardly towards to the forge.

Gobber found the boy round the back, bowed forward with his hands on his bent knees, vomiting the little food he had taken in. His entire body was trembling and he looked white and gaunt. As Gobber arrived, he flinched and backed away, his eyes dark with fear and then...apology.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Gobber gently approached him and caught his shoulder, staring at the bowed shape.

"Easy, lad," he sighed. "I know it's hard." Hiccup flicked a glance up from under his hair then looked down again.

"It shouldn't be," he protested softly. "I didn't deserve any of this-so why and I the one still being punished? Why does no one seem to think what...happened...was wrong? And why...why hasn't he said anything?" Gobber pulled off his helmet and rubbed his forehead.

"I don't know, laddie," he said heavily. "Sometimes, I wonder if that man remembers he has a son at all..." Hiccup straightened up a little more and took a shuddering breath, his ashen face still livid with bruises.

"Maybe when he finally decides, he won't have one," he said quietly and turned back to his work.

The next morning, Gothi had woken Hiccup gently and rechecked his wounds, then fed him and encouraged a soothing bath. Surprised at the consideration and the fact he seemed to be able to understand her even without words, he had done as she asked and had emerged a little later clean, relaxed and warm, just as the other riders dropped in.

They had brought his possessions: tunics, leggings, satchel, knife, cloak, thick winter under tunic, scarf and mittens. And Astrid had shyly presented him with the little stitched Nadder from his bed-the last thing he had of his mother. He had clutched the toy with shining eyes and thick throat. He gave a shuddering sigh. "Thanks, guys," he said in a small voice. "Really-for everything. But you know I have to leave." The twins gaped but Astrid gave a sad nod.

"And that's why I'm going with you," she said. He shook his head and groaned.

"Gods, no," he said slowly. "I-I can't take you from your home..." She walked to him and punched him in the arm. He yelped and grabbed at the injury. "Why..."

"I can't let you go alone!" she told him sternly.

"I'll be with Toothless. I won't be alone!" he protested. She caught his hand.

"I don't think you could be more alone," she said gently. "But you were right. My Dad...isn't happy I've been seeing you. He's saying...horrible things about you." Hiccup paled: he could guess. "But I have made my choice. I don't want to be given to some nobody with so-called honour and status when the amazing man I want is right here."

"Me?" Snotlout asked, not really paying attention. Ruffnut elbowed him: Astrid had confided in her and the female twin knew what her friend was planning. Hiccup stared into her face.

"I can't let you," he whispered. "Your home, your family...they will be lost to you if you do this. You will be assumed to have been...tainted...by being with me. If you come back, you could be sold or disowned. You will lose everything. And believe me-that is a horrible feeling. Don't throw everything away for me, Astrid!"

"Dagur will be looking for you," she reminded him. "You're still branded as a Berserker slave and travelling alone makes you more vulnerable. Travelling with someone else may be safer..."

"Especially Astrid Hofferson," he offered shyly. He wasn't much of a fighter on his own: determined but not that quick, stable or strong. She, on the other hand was excellent in all forms of combat and had never lost to Hiccup. He sagged. "Look, I can't stop you because I know you will follow me if I leave and Stormfly can track us. So I'm going to the forge and put in some work. I will need some provisions-dried yak jerky and smoked fish. And then I will leave tomorrow at dawn."

"Okay, dawn..." Snotlout said and Hiccup recoiled as the twins whooped and bumped helmets.

"NO!" he said more firmly. "You guys have to stay here and protect Berk. The Outcasts and Berserkers are still out there and Dagur will be back."

"Aww, c'mon!" Ruffnut pleaded. "It sounds like sooooo much fun..."

"Yeah, Hic-you can't survive without Thorston craziness!" Tuffnut protested. Hiccup ignored them and stared hard at Snotlout.

"You are the Heir now-you need to support my Dad after I go. All of you." Fishlegs stared at him and nodded.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said softly. Hiccup smiled.

"Look after the Book of Dragons and the Bork papers," he asked his friend then turned to Toothless. "C'mon, bud-let's go and see Gobber. I need to explain and say goodbye as well."

oOo

Dawn broke, pink and freezing cold. The grass was edged with frost and the muddy puddles were completely frozen over. Hiccup and Toothless emerged on the decking outside Gothi's house. He was warmly wrapped in his winter under tunic, his new tunic, fur vest, a cloak and mittens. His satchel and a saddle bag held his provisions, few belongings and his journal. His knife and a newly-forged sword hung from his narrow waist as he stiffly climbed onto the saddle. He cast a wistful look across, up the village and over the houses, still sleeping and quiet. A nagging guilt tugged at his heart that he was leaving his home and his father but the larger part of him reminded him that he had been abused, ostracised, outcast and finally attacked by the guards. Berk was no place for him now. He blinked.

The screech of a Nadder drew him back to the present and he lifted his head to see Astrid swoop in on Stormfly. She was also warmly dressed with cloak, winter leggings, fur hood, winter boots and a bag containing spare clothes, food and weapons. Her trusty axe was slung across her back. She landed by him and stared into his bruised face, reading his uncertainty. "Are you okay?" she asked him. "You know you don't have to do this." He nodded.

"Yes, I do," he said. "I need the time and space, Astrid. I know it's the coward's way, but I can't win. No matter what I do, I can't overcome their prejudices. I need to do something different, be someone different to remind myself I am not...nothing." He stared at the floor.

"So where will we go?" she asked. "Dragon Island?"

"That will be the second place they look-after the cove," he said quietly. "North is out of the question because winter is closing in fast-and I don't trust Dagur not have put the word out among the other islands. I'm heading to the Mainland." She stared at him.

"With the dragons?" she asked him, horrified. He nodded.

"If we travel at night once we get close, we can find places to conceal them during the day," he explained. "I can work in a forge or a shop or armoury. I speak several languages. I can draw. I'll find something to do." He shrugged.

"And me?" she asked him pointedly. He sighed.

"You will have no trouble," he said. "But look at me-there are a very limited number of things anyone would have me do." He pulled his cloak tighter. "Ready?" she nodded shortly.

"Ready," she said determinedly. "No turning back!"

"And I'm sorry," he said and tossed a handful of dragon nip straight into Stormfly's face. The dragon gave a puzzled croak and collapsed. "Now, bud!" he shouted and the Night Fury launched, arrowing the boy up into the freezing sky as Astrid leapt off and glared after him by her utterly incapacitated dragon.

"HICCUP!" she screamed.