FIFTEEN: Someone to rely on

The weather had turned colder and the villagers of Sniffling started to hunker down for the oncoming bad weather. Astrid was now welcomed as a villager and was officially living with Hjordis, occupying the small loft platform as she had at her home back in Berk. She was feeling well now, though her pregnancy was definitely showing and she had been forced to make a new tunic with a fur-lined vest with side lacings to wear over her new red tunic to keep her warm. The Chief had been interested and sympathetic to her tale, inviting the young woman to talk to him.

Chief Kjetil was a solid man, his grey beard framing a rough-hewn weathered face with kindly blue eyes. He had explained that Hjordis, a trusted widow in the village, had told him of Astrid's situation and the young woman was welcome to stay-her and her unborn child. Sitting by the fire in the modest village hall, Astrid had explained that she had lost her betrothed, silently praying forgiveness from Freya for the untruth. Her child fluttered under her hand and her face unconsciously tilted in joy at the incredible sensation, still so new.

"He's gone," she said quietly, her heart clenching in pain that she would never see Hiccup again. She had no doubt he would look for her but as he was married to the Heir to Bog, there was nothing to be gained but heartache in seeing him again. "I have this little one to console me and I only want to do what I can to protect him."

"So what did you do at home?" Kjetil asked her gently and she saw the kindness in his eyes, recalling similar expressions in Stoick's eyes-especially when her parents's house was destroyed and she had been so distraught with guilt and concern.

"I was-am-a warrior," she said boldly as he stared at her. "My home is much further north and we had frequent dragon raids when I was younger. I trained with the axe from when I was able to walk and I was one of the Chief's most trusted warriors. When we made peace with dragons, our focus turned to defending the island from Outcasts and Berserkers..." The Chief stared at her.

"You made peace with the dragons?" he echoed, his brow furrowed with incomprehension. She nodded.

"My betrothed realised they are inherently kind and gentle creatures who were controlled by a giant dragon that forced them to raid the islands," she explained. "They fought because they were forced to, enthralled by her. But we killed the monster and they became friendly and allies. Many live on our island in peace." He shook his head, sighing and she felt a shiver of disquiet: she had wanted to be as honest as possible and she had forgotten that many Tribes were still uncomfortable around dragons.

"You're from Berk," he said heavily and his tone confirmed her worries. "Many down here still count dragons as fearsome beasts and ravening monsters. I will allow you to stay but I would advise you not to speak too freely of these matters-you may find some of the men especially will be hostile." He paused. "There are also Dragon Hunters in these parts, Astrid. There are islands around here where dragons live and they sail in without warning, raiding for the beasts to capture and sell." He noted her eyes glitter with anger and her fists tighten. "Hmm-don't like hunters either?"

"I've fought against them for a year," she said tonelessly. "They've tried to kill us more than I can recall and attacked my village, destroying my parents' home. Do they come around here often?" He shook his head.

"Usually just before the cold sets in-though they sometimes raid us like pirates," he admitted and his face fell. "Can I count on your axe, Astrid?" She nodded, her hand protectively on her middle.

"Of course, sir," she said, though her mind was in turmoil. She hadn't dreamed there was danger to Stormfly, so far away from the Edge and the Hunters they knew...but of course, there had to be others, for who did Viggo trade with otherwise? "If they want to attack my home or capture dragons here, they will find me waiting!" Kjetil rose and screwed his helmet back onto his head. He shook her hand.

"You know, I think I've done a great deal in gaining you as a villager, Astrid," he smiled. "Welcome to Sniffling!"

oOo

Pain and nausea waged war for attention as Hiccup slowly regained his senses, still tied to the mast of the Hunter ship and seeing the corpse of the Nadder in the cage in front of him. He had been dreaming, the fading images of Astrid and Toothless and Stormfly, playing amid the clouds still burned on the inside of his eyelids. For a long moment, he mentally clawed at the images, wishing himself back with Astrid and wanting nothing more than to sink into oblivion and not have to deal with the pain any more before he blinked and lifted his head slightly to check his guards.

Night had fallen and the fog was wrapping the ship in its clammy grey shroud, billows hiding everything more than a couple of yards ahead. Cautiously, he grimaced, feeling his wounds pull as he uncurled his hand, quietly moving the tiny dagger that he had snatched from the Captain's belt when he had thrown himself on the man at the end. Brow furrowed, he very carefully manipulated the blade round so it was resting against the thick ropes and then he carefully began to saw. He knew the blade was sharp because it had been used on him so many times but every movement was painful as he patiently sawed. His legs were wobbling and his head buzzing with the effort as he felt the first strand start to part.

Only another three to go...

The fog thickened and he listened in the damp gloom, hearing steps approach, accompanied by a lamp. The Captain emerged from the fog and Hiccup slammed back against the mast, hissing in pain and curling his hand around the dagger as the bruised face loomed closer. The Captain leaned close.

"I wondered if you were thirsty yet?" he leered as the battered young Viking shook his head, swallowing to moisten his parchment-dry throat.

"I'm good," he mumbled thickly. "Never better. How about you?" The man lunged forward and his hand closed around Hiccup's bruised neck, tightening ferociously and cutting off the younger man's air supply.

"It would be easy to snap your neck, boy," the Captain growled. "And it would be a fitting punishment...but you are too stubborn to kill so quickly. Maybe we'll wait until you pass out from lack of food and water and feed you the dragon's blood anyway." He leaned forward. "There is a legend that drinking the blood of dragons turns you into a hunter..." Staring blearily into the ice-cold eyes, Hiccup struggled weakly and shook his head.

"Never..." he gasped and tightened his fists...feeling the edge of the knife bite into his palm. The Captain smiled.

"You're never going free," he hissed and slammed Hiccup's head back against the mast, blurring his vision and watching him sag, stunned. Chuckling, he turned and walked back through the fog. Through the roaring of blood in his ears, he heard the slam of the door as the man vanished into his cabin and the young viking sagged.

"I promise...I will get you free, Toothless," Hiccup gasped, feeling the blood well in his hand. Painfully, he manoeuvred the knife and sawed at the ropes again, all senses on edge until he finally felt the last strand part and the ropes loosen.

For a long moment, he sagged against the ropes before he very determinedly began to squirm free and at last, he was able to pull his arm free so he could unwind the ropes and finally stagger free. His legs wobbled and he almost collapsed but he stumbled forward, swiftly finding himself leaning against the cage containing the dead Nadder and trying not to gag at the slightly stale and starting-to-turn smell of meat and blood. And then he shambled on, veering right and walking for a moment completely isolated, wrapped in the clammy fog, all sounds muffled and the whole world vanished. He had never felt more alone.

And then a warble sounded as the Night Fury heard his breaths, jagged and pained and he took a couple of shaky steps until the cuboid shape of the cage emerged from the fog and the black shape inside slammed against the bars, whining. Hiccup stumbled to his knees, his entire body shaking but he lifted the knife with a bloody hand and quickly picked the lock. Toothless butted the door open and urgently licked his rider, nuzzling him wildly until the lanky arms wrapped around the scarred head.

"S'okay, bud," he rasped. "We gotta get out of here-it's our only chance..." He hung onto the dragon. "You gotta help me find your saddle. I-I can't see it..." Toothless nuzzled him gently and lowered his head, inviting the battered young man to scramble onto the dragon's scarred shoulders-but as soon as he was in place, Toothless lifted his head and sniffed and then they whipped off into the darkness, slinking past guards to the corner where the pack, saddle and tail assembly had been carelessly dumped and ignored for so many days since the Captain had been concentrating on torturing Hiccup.

Head spinning and legs wavering-especially since his prosthetic was bent and his stump horribly painful from the abuse it had taken-Hiccup slid from Toothless's back and grasped the tail, checking it was undamaged and fixing it as best he could by memory in the near darkness. Breathing hard and hands trembling with fear, he lifted the saddle and carefully strapped it on, attaching the saddle bag and gasping in relief that his possessions had been ignored since his capture. Clenching his bloodied hands, he hauled himself into the saddle, clipped his damaged leg into the pedal and leaned forward.

"Get us out of here, bud," he murmured, hanging on. The Night Fury gave a croon and extended his wings.

"THE DRAGON HAS ESCAPED!"

The cry rose as they launched over the rail, Toothless falling towards the flat grey sea before a couple of strong wingbeats took them up and in to the sky. There was the whip of arrows and the clank of chains flying but Toothless and Hiccup kept low as they arrowed directly away from the ship, the missiles and bolas soaring high over them. Banking slightly to the right, they skimmed the waves, knowing that the Hunters would assume a dragon would climb up and away if it was released...but Hiccup had imagined their escape every moment he could between interrogations and he had planned every detail, finally thanking Thor for the fog that was the last piece they needed for success. But their senses were straining and his heart was pounding with terror until the sounds faded behind them and they were flapping away completely alone in the foggy silence...

..and only then did the Night Fury abruptly climb almost vertically up towards the unseen stars. Hiccup hung on for dear life, his hands losing sensation in the cold and his body hurting so much he could think of nothing else. His throat was parchment-dry and he blinked as he felt his vision swim. Suddenly, they burst through the top of the fog bank and the Night Fury levelled out, wings spread wide to cup the air gently and soar over the grey cloud. Overhead, the brilliant stars twinkled in the ink-black sky and curtains of green and purple to the north marked the aurora dancing across the horizon. Hiccup's teeth chattered, for his tunic was in rags, grimy and heavily stained with blood. He bent forward, pressing himself against the warm dragon as much as he could.

"Th-thanks, b-bud..." he mumbled thickly. "We g-gotta k-keep g-going. C-can't let th-them f-find us..."

Toothless crooned, the vibration reassuring against Hiccup's body and his split lips tilted in a smile.

"Thanks, buddy," he murmured. "Not s-sure what I would do without you."

There was a small warble, reassuring the wounded Rider that his dragon felt the same. But Hiccup shivered and his voice dropped.

"I know-and it's all m-my fault," he mumbled. "I should've been paying more attention. I-I should have helped them so-so you weren't hurt..." He swallowed. "And it's been so long...I...we'll never find Astrid and Stormfly..."

Toothless flapped twice, taking them higher and allowing the dragon's keen sight to search for signs of land. Hiccup's voice was growing fainter, his heart beat was racing and he smelled of blood. And though he had suffered because they had been caught, Toothless did not blame Hiccup at all, not understanding why Hiccup blamed himself. For Toothless was a Night Fury and he should have sensed the ship below them: it had been Toothless's carelessness that had allowed them to become prisoners which had caused Hiccup's pain. And the Night Fury would not allow his beloved Rider-brother to suffer any more...or die of his wounds or the cold. He crooned reassuringly as he saw the distant shadow of rock against the stars, far ahead.

Wings pumping, Toothless accelerated towards the distant land, feeling Hiccup start to slip. He shimmied to right his rider and surged on. Because he was the only one who could save Hiccup...

oOo

Despite the urgency, it had taken Dagur longer than Heather would have expected to leave Berserk because he had insisted on visiting Shattermaster and having a long talk to the Gronckle, apologising for leaving him to go and rescue their brother-the man who had brought them together. And she had felt an unexpected lump in her throat at the affection the crippled green Gronckle had shown for the scarred Berserker Chief and the obvious love Dagur had for the injured dragon. Suddenly, the time wasn't a delay but a necessary farewell before the mission and she had smiled as he had walked towards her, grinning broadly.

"Now we find my brother," he said.

They had headed to Defenders Isle first and Heather had spoken to Queen Mala because Hiccup's words before he left Berk had indicated that Astrid had visited the Defenders. Reluctantly, Mala had told them what she knew and what she had discussed with Hiccup and thanking her, they had headed south. Dagur was focussed on the hunt, though he rambled almost constantly. It got on Heather's nerves, since she had hunted and travelled all alone for longer than she cared to recall and she valued the silence of her own thoughts-but he was her only kin and she appreciated he was trying to be a brother.

The land south was sparsely scattered with small islands, poorly mapped and unfamiliar to the Berserker siblings...but Dagur was agitated and Sleuther picked up on his anxiety. The Triple Stryke was a powerful dragon and he was not the most trusting and easy to handle, given his poor experience being kept in the dragon fighting ring for so long...but Dagur seemed to understand him well and chatted constantly to him, like an old friend.

They camped on seastacks, all but invisible from sea level at night and trusted their dragons to alert them if there was any danger. There seemed to be no pattern to the search and Heather wondered if there was any kind of map or grid they could use-as she had seen Hiccup employ in the past when they were looking to ambush the Hunters but Dagur led on, changing direction with no rhyme or reason but driven by some inner calling.

They woke the next morning with fog banks billowing around them and a bitter chill in the air. Dagur was impatient, desperate to be away and Sleuther was agitated...but more worryingly, so was Windshear. Heather reached for the silver dragon, stroking her face and hugged her close.

"What is it, girl?" she murmured and Windshear gave an unhappy croon. She looked over at Dagur. "Something's wrong." He nodded.

"Let's go," he murmured. "Let the dragons lead. They sense something."

The two dragons accelerated away and arrowed east, the riders hanging on as they both soared over the fog-swathed sea for a long time...until they finally homed in on a small group of islets and beyond them, a rugged seastack. The dragons soared up, roaring and below them, a faint roar echoed back.

"There!" Dagur was leaning heedlessly over the side of Sleuther, pointing at a black shape curled on the top of the seastack. "A black dragon!"

"Toothless!" Heather realise as her brother smirked at her.

"Are you sure?' he teased her and she scowled.

"How many black dragons do you know?" she challenged him. "Especially ones that have a fake red tail fin?"

"Hiccup!" Dagur yelled and drove his dragon to swoop down, with Windshear at his side. The siblings landed by the curled shape and Heather gasped: Toothless was very thin, his neck and flanks scarred with fresh and part-healed wounds and cuts. There was some tearing in his wing membrane and he was tightly curled up. The Night Fury opened an eye and looked at her.

"Where's Hiccup?" Heather asked gently and the dragon gave a small croon. "It's okay-we're here to help." She offered her hand and looked away...until she felt the snout gently and briefly press against her palm. And then Toothless opened his wings.

Clutched in his front paws, cuddled against his warm and broad chest was the bloody and thin shape of Hiccup, limp and unconscious but cocooned in the warmth. Heather crouched down and leaned close, a hand gently pressing against his shoulder.

"Hiccup?" she said gently, shaking him slightly. He flinched and his eyelids flickered, unwillingly opening to spy the shape leaning over him. He gasped and tried to cringe back as she grasped his hand, seeing a blood-stained rag wrapped around his left palm. "Hiccup? It's me...." He blinked owlishly and then relaxed, though he was breathing hard.

"H-Heather?" he rasped, green eyes searching her face. "Thank-thank Thor...it wasn't a dream. We got away..." Dagur walked forward and crouched by him, sliding an arm under the battered young Viking and lifting him up to a slumped sitting position.

"Brother?" he asked worriedly. "Got away? What has been happening?"

"Dagur? I...oh Thor..." Hiccup mumbled, momentarily tensing and then relaxing again. "Hunters," he managed. Dagur glanced up at his sister and saw the alarm in her eyes as well.

"I'll get a blanket," she offered and headed to her saddlebag. "Dagur-we need to get him somewhere warm and safe to recuperate..."

"Home?' the Berserker suggested but Heather shook her head.

"He's not fit to travel any distance," she admitted. "We need to find somewhere on that island to rest up and treat him...and Toothless." The Night Fury gave a half-hearted growl. "No-we know you need a rest and lots of fish, Toothless," Heather said calmly as she wrapped the blanket around the injured shape. "Dagur-look after him while I scout the island. Keep him warm and keep him safe." Then she leapt onto Windshear and with two wingbeats, they were gone. Dagur stared after her and realised Hiccup was leaning heavily against him, his head lolled against his shoulder.

It had been his dream, his desire, his compulsion to own Hiccup for as long as he could recall, his attraction to the younger man unhealthy and definitely not requited. As far as he could recall, Hiccup had only ever had eyes for Astrid and had never shown any encouragement for Dagur, firmly telling the man that they were not brothers and standing up for what he believed in. And there had been times when he had Hiccup at his mercy, when it would have been easy to take what he wanted and brutalise the younger man for his own ends...but he never had. Because somewhere, deep down, he recalled the tiny young boy he had been charged to look after by his father when he was ten and Hiccup five and the sense of achievement he had garnered when he had rescued him from being bullied by the other Heirs. When, for the only time, he had actually acted like the 'brother' he claimed to be and had been rewarded by an innocent and genuine hug by the young boy. Calmly, he tightened his arm around the battered shape and felt Hiccup shift slightly.

"You okay, Hiccup?" Dagur asked him quietly and Hiccup managed the ghost of a smile, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal pained emerald eyes.

"Never better," he murmured, his head lolling. "Th-thanks, Dagur. I think you've saved our lives."

The Berserker felt a surge of shame at his thoughts, about recalling what he had planned to do to the younger man in the past and he managed a smile in response to the brave words. Hiccup was a generous young man who had forgiven the man who had harmed him, attacked him, threatened him and sworn revenge against him and his willingness to show that forgiveness by helping him befriend a dragon had saved Dagur. No matter how many recriminations Hiccup had earned for concealing Dagur from the others on the Edge. The truth was that Hiccup believed in Dagur-and Dagur would never act on those old impulses-no matter how difficult it was with the vulnerable and injured man helpless in his arms-because having Hiccup as a friend was worth far more than ruining it over something that could never be.

"That's what brothers are for," the Berserker said with a grin.