Two.

He was still working at dawn, his eyes deeply shadowed and face colourless with exhaustion. The pile of weapons was pretty much gone and Boarlegs' bent sword had been fixed...though Hiccup had carefully ensured the metal was weakened so the weapon would shatter the next time it was used. He really didn't care what Gobber did to him for that-because he knew the man would never throw him out, since Hiccup did almost all of the smithing in the village now. The past few years had been very hard and the losses had been difficult to take: as soon as he had had reluctantly accepted his friend's son as his full-time assistant, he had largely stepped back from smithing and everyone-especially Hiccup-knew that Gobber was more interested in drinking with his friends and complaining about his assistant. It did nothing for the young man's self-esteem, knowing that his mentor and godfather, the only person who had made an effort when he was younger now despised him so much. And honestly, Hiccup couldn't understand what he had done, what had supposedly changed but it had, ever since that horrible day when the Chief had stood in front of him and told the fifteen-year-old Hiccup that he would never be Chief and that his cousin would supplant him.

He shuddered. He had been truly hurt that his father thought so little of him, that he had dismissed him so brutally-and when he was told that he would be moved to live in the forge with Gobber so that Snotlout could take his place, Hiccup had begged his father to reconsider. All it had achieved had been to intensify the look of disappointment in Stoick's cool eyes and the boy had quietly gathered what possessions he could from his room before trudging down the hill to the forge. The only place the boy could stay was in his little workroom behind the main forge so for the past three years, he had slept on the ground, huddled to keep warm and wishing against all hope this was some horrible nightmare he would wake from. But every morning, when he opened his eyes, he was still isolated, despised and disowned.

But Astrid's axe was finished. He had spent much of the night shaping and tempering the axe head, making the edge keen and the metal strong. Gobber had taught him well and he had used every technique he knew to make the best weapon he could for the girl he really liked. It was in the freezing small hours that he had carefully etched a delicate pattern on the blade for the girl, bent over the metal by the light of a couple of candles, pouring his heart and soul into the work. It didn't matter if she even noticed: it was for Astrid and he would know he had given her his finest work.

He just prayed to Thor she would like it-and not kill him for destroying her precious axe.

He had tidied up and was working on a dented mace when Gobber lumbered into the forge, seeing the grimy and exhausted shape still working. From where he came in, the purple bruise on the boy's pale cheek was very obvious and there was a brief moment when the big man regretted his actions. He knew he was sometimes pretty mean when he was drunk but Boarface had bent his ear for almost an hour about how rude his apprentice had been and Gobber had finally broke when he saw the tall, skinny shape slip in for a well-needed break. And Gobber had known he needed the break as well because the lad was a hard worker and never shirked-but as he was on his fourth flask of mead, he had managed to silence the little voice of reason and had shouted at the boy. And being Hiccup, he had been sassy back and then-as so often recently-he had hit him. There was a pause-and then he moved forward.

"I see yer finished the work," he said awkwardly and Hiccup's eyes flicked up for a moment.

"Yeah, Gobber," he said quietly and turned back to his work.

"Er...good," the older man said, scratching his chin with his hook. "Look, lad..." Hiccup clanged his hammer down hard on the broken sword, starting to fuse the red hot metal shards together and concentrating on the work. "Yesterday..."

Hiccup snapped round, his green eyes piercingly glaring at the older man. The silence was imposing.

"What about yesterday?" he asked quietly, his words almost devoid of expression. Gobber felt himself shuffle his foot.

"I-I didn't mean it," he mumbled in embarrassment. Hiccup's brows dipped.

"Which part?" he asked clearly. "The part where you seemed to think I didn't deserve a break after working all day and most of the night? The part where you accused me of being rude to an incredibly rude and violent Viking? The part where you basically told me to do every weapon in order-and then chewed me for doing that, since that guy's weapon was near the bottom of the pile? The part where you called me a disgrace? The part where you threatened to throw me out? Or the part where you hit me?"

"Um...all of them?" Gobber said in a really embarrassed voice. "I know yer didnae deserve tae be chewed out like that..."

"Ya think?" Hiccup replied sarcastically. "So why did you?"  The big man moved closer.

"I was..." The word 'drunk' was unspoken. Hiccup sighed.

"So that's it," he said tonelessly. "You tear me apart again, you disgrace me in front of the village again, you hit me again-and it's the same excuse. Gobber..." He took a slow breath and shook his head. "You keep doing it. And you say the same things every time. So you clearly do mean it. I am sorry you didn't want me here. I'm sorry I was a disappointment...though I'm not really sure what for. I mean, you're sort of an Uncle to me but I'm the one who was disowned and thrown out of my home. I'm the one who lost his birthright. I'm the one saddled with the name 'Hiccup the Useless'. I'm the one even the younger teens and kids point at and laugh at. I can't work any harder, Gobber.  If I'm not good enough, it's because I'm not good enough."

He snatched Astrid's axe and walked past Gobber.

"I need to deliver this-and I ought to get some rest or I will fall over," he admitted, his gaunt face and the deep shadows under his eyes highlighting his exhaustion. "Will you be okay?" The big man nodded, ashamed as his young assistant awkwardly walked past him and, impulsively, he grabbed his arm. His ample stomach curled in shame at the brief stiffening before Hiccup forced himself to relax.

"Take yer time," Gobber told him and he nodded softly  before heading out into the cold morning. He grabbed his fur vest-too short for him but he had no other. His tunic was in desperate need of a wash-as was Hiccup himself-but he needed a sleep more and he knew he would be dead to the world the moment his head hit the pillow.

He knew where Astrid would be: the Arena. She ran Dragon Training now and weapons and combat training when Dragon Training classes weren't in session. This morning, she had the younger teens-the fire crew-for basic weapons practice and for a moment, he hung back as she barked orders and the teens skipped to obey her. He leaned against the wall in the entrance, swathed in the shadows and watched Gustav make an inappropriate and very personal suggestions to her. Her eyes narrowed and she screamed an sharp order at him:

"Drop down and give me THIRTY!"

"Aww, Astrid!" Gustav protested. "You know you're a total babe and you really can't hope to do better than me. Why don't you give in to your attraction to me and be my girlfriend..."

"FORTY!" the enraged Shield Maiden snarled.

"I'll just have to woo you with my manly awesomeness!"

"FIFTY!"

And mini-Snotlout has as much success as his hero, Hiccup thought ironically, watching the younger boy drop down and start his push-ups swiftly, trying to show off. After ten, his arms collapsed and he was bright red and sweating profusely. The other teens were preparing for axe-throwing practice and Hiccup walked through the gate-then cleared his throat. Astrid turned, her eyes glittering with annoyance that faded as she saw Hiccup. Hiccup grinned in delight as he saw her.

"Hi Astrid," he grinned and revealed his present. "Sorry it took a while. Could I speak for a moment?" She smiled back and nodded, waving the teens to continue their preparations and glaring at Gustav who was whining in a manner that Snotlout would have been proud of. She led them over to the side of the Arena, by the gate. He gently placed the axe in her hands and she smiled-though the expression faded as she registered what she was holding.

"Hiccup?" she asked cautiously and he sighed.

"The edge wouldn't take sharpening," he told her with a sigh. "And I couldn't leave you without a weapon, what with all the raids. So I melted it down and put some new high grade iron in to make you a new axe head. Um...that's why it took so long..."

"I thought it was all that work you had," she admitted and he gave a weak smile.

"Yeah, I think everyone heard that," he said awkwardly. "So...the axe head is your axe head-it's all the same iron, just reshaped and strengthened. I used the same template because it suits your reach and it's what you're used to-but it's better tempered and very sharp." She turned it over in her hands, feeling the comforting contours of her own axe-haft and checking the balance: of course, it was absolutely perfect, as she had expected. Her eyes focussed on the delicate etching and her lips curled up in a delighted smile.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she gasped. "Perfect weight and balance and absolutely stunning." She flung her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear and he wrapped his arms around her in a delighted hug, reluctantly releasing her as she pulled away.

"For you, Milady-anything," he admitted with a smile. She twirled the weapon in her hands and then slung it comfortably across her back, a relieved smile lighting her eyes.

"That feels so much better," she told him and he nodded.

"Um...you did have something missing," he teased her gently. "Astrid Hofferson with no axe? Unthinkable!" She gently swatted his shoulder and he grinned back.

"I guess I should be grateful you didn't hit me with the axe," he quipped and she smiled at him then.

"I better go," she murmured, leaning close. "If I leave Gustav for long, he'll blow up the Arena."

"Mini-Snot," he murmured and she caught his dry words, then laughed in delight.

"Gods, that's brilliant," she giggled. "I may use that!" He sketched a slight bow.

"You're welcome," he smirked and nodded, then turned and left. The teens were all lined up, most of them whispering and nudging each other.

"Oooh! Astrid loves Hiccup!" Else Jorgensen sneered. The girl was solid with regular features, jet hair in two thick braids and cool blue eyes like her older brother. She set great store on the fact thats she was the sister of the Heir. Tiril Gunnarson was a slight blonde girl with a wicked sense of humour-as would be expected in a cousin of the twins while the hefty Hilda Forfang was a powerfully-built girl with thick brown braids whose Aunt was the intimidating Phlegma the Fierce. The last member of the group, Yaklegs Ingerman, was a husky lad with chubby features that echoed his older brother Fishlegs. He was more of an extrovert, though he was still bright and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the most unexpected things.

'Why would she want to do that?" Hilda asked in a disparaging voice. "I mean, he's Useless, scrawny and worthless!"

"Yeah-we all saw Gobber chew him out!" Gustav piped up from the ground. "Forty-one" he added.

"Hiccup is a skilled smith," Astrid interrupted sharply. "He mended my axe. He is clearly not Useless!"

"He can't fight," Tiril reminded her. "He was lucky to survive Dragon Training! And his own father disowned him as he was no good!" Astrid bit back her instinctive reply-that Hiccup wasn't aggressive or overconfident or brash but he was kind, skilled and determined and he never deserved the abuse heaped on him-because she knew the kids were just repeating what they had been told. Instead, she drew her axe and threw it in the same motion, splitting the centre of the target.

"He mended and rebalanced my axe," she told them coldly, talking forward and pulling it from he target, feeling the sleek blade slide easily from the wood. "He delivered it in person. That deserves thanks."

"It's his job," Yaklegs pointed out.

"And yours is to be training-but seeing precious little of that," Astrid reminded them. "Unless you all want twenty?" Predictably, they all grabbed their axes and began throwing-but their aim was poor and the clatter of metal on the stone floor of the Arena echoed loudly. Astrid slung her axe back in position and watched. Somehow, she knew Hiccup would have a few more axes to mend by the end of this lesson...

oOo

The next day, all hands were needed at the docks because the fleet had been out and for once, all the fishing boats returned laden with huge catches. Everyone was needed to help unload, gut and salt the bounty before it was stowed in the emergency store houses and caves to provide for the hungry people of Berk. Gobber had remained at the forge and sent his assistant down to help. Predictably, he was jeered mercilessly.

"They'll need the catch carrying by more than one fish at a time!" Snotlout sneered.

"Maybe we can find him a couple of herrings he can manage?" Tuffnut Thorston, the male twin added. He and his sister Ruffnut were both eighteen, lanky with long blonde hair, long faces and grey-blue eyes. Ruffnut had three thick braids that she treated with fish oils and stank while Tuff had his long hair in dreadlocks which were just as unpleasant.

"Maybe an eel?" Ruff suggested, equally scornfully. The pair were tough, cruel and merciless, taunting Hiccup along with their friend Snotlout. More than once, they had helped him beat the young blacksmith and Hiccup kept a wary distance from them. He silently accepted the small cart he was given, loaded it with a net of fish and began to push the heavy load all the way up the very long zigzag ramp all the way up the village at the top of the cliffs. He was much stronger than he looked because spending all his days hammering out metal and lifting maces and war-hammers soon cured weakness. But none of that mattered because everyone had already made their judgement and he was landed with the taunts.

Snotlout winked to the twins, then walked past the toiling Hiccup and deliberately slammed the cart aside, knocking the precious net of fish over as the cart overturned. Silvery fish flowed over the ramp and many over the side directly down onto the docks and into the harbour.

"WHO DID THAT?" Stoick roared and every eye turned again to the lean shape, desperately gathering up the spilled food, his motions angry at the deliberate act...until he heard the thud of steps and looked up-into the furious face of his father.

"Don't say it," Hiccup said bitterly. "It was an accident. Someone knocked the cart and it overturned. I can..."

"Are you trying to ruin us, boy?" his father roared. "Is there no limit to your clumsiness or incompetence?"

"Hardly fair when the cart was knocked over by someone else!" Hiccup protested.

"You were responsible for that cart of food and you have wasted it! We need every fish..." the Chief snarled.

"And I will pick up every one," Hiccup said determinedly. "I know how serious things are, Dad. I..."

"What did you call me?" The Chief's voice was arctic and the young man stiffened, dipping his head. It had been instinct...that even three years hadn't knocked out of him yet.

"S-sorry, sir," he mumbled, shrinking back. "I-I'll pick all the fish up..."

"Why can't you just do what you're told?" Stoick growled and for a moment, Hiccup looked up, his green eyes defensive. "Why can't you be like Snotlout?"

"What?" Hiccup gasped. "It was Snotlout who knocked me over! And who spilled all that precious food! But as usual, Hiccup get the blame and you never listen to a word I..." Stoick loomed over him and he backed up a pace.

"Keep your jealous lies to yourself!" the Chief growled. "I expect you to collect every fish!" Then he turned away and his son opened his mouth to make a soft plea...but he closed it again, knowing it would be rejected. Swallowing hard, he turned back to collecting the spilled food, feeling the scornful glares. Wearily, he pushed the cart all the way down again, collecting the fish on the docks and seeing a handful floating on the water. Suddenly, he felt a shove and found himself plunging forward into the sea, hearing the raucous laughs of the twins. He surfaced, coughing and spitting out seawater to turn and see Ruff and Tuff pointing at him and roaring with laughter.

"At least you can get those fish now," Ruff told him and he glared, then grabbed the fish and swam back to the dock, struggling to haul himself out of the freezing water. Tuff grinned and shoved Hiccup back in before the twins ran away, laughing. Teeth chattering, the young man scrambled out again and lay on the dock, breathing hard. Stoick's voice bellowed across the harbour and he shuddered, then slowly pulled himself to his knees and tossed the final fish into the cart. He was soaked and thoroughly depressed, freezing and once again feeling utterly hopeless. With a weary sigh, he grabbed the handles of his cart, checked out for the twins and Snotlout and achingly began to push the cart back up the ramp again.

Once he had unloaded his cart, he headed back down and spent the rest of the day ferrying food up from the docks, his back aching and shoulders burning. The exertion had warmed him up but he was still feeling wretched: the reminder of his father's rejection had hit him hard. Being told he wasn't good enough to be the Heir to Berk hadn't been as painful as Stoick's next declaration-that he wasn't good enough to be his son either. That had really been a pretty awful moment and not only had the young man been told his room was being given away but his status as Stoick's son was being taken away as well. Finally, as the sun was setting and the torches warmed the ramp, he made his last journey from the last boat. He knew that the women and some of the less mobile men had been hard at work preserving the fish while he had been trudging up and down the ramp and a small part of him knew he should be grateful that he at least got out in the fresh air-but he was just aching and cold.

He was aware of the glares as he went into the Great Hall for a meal, dragging his exhausted body into the warmth and helping himself to the fish stew and bread on offer. As usual, he found a space in the furthest corner of the hall and tucked in, guessing that he wouldn't get a peaceful meal. And he was right for a group of Vikings came towards him when he was only half-finished.

"Hey! What're you doing?" one called.

"You shouldn't be here when you nearly lost all that fish!" another added.

"Yeah-you're just a liability!" a third jeered, emboldened by mead and the murmurings that began through the hall. Hiccup swallowed his mouthful and looked up, eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"You almost lost food-so you shouldn't be eating here!" the first man snapped. Hiccup chewed his bread.

"By that reasoning, all the warriors who let the dragons actually take the food shouldn't be allowed to eat either," he pointed out. The murmurings were definitely more hostile. He shrugged. "Just putting that out there-because that what these guys said. Not me!" He scooped another mouthful of his stew. The men shared a look-and then came for him. He backed away.

"You know, I wonder what the Chief will say about your sedition?" the first Viking sneered, grabbing the lean young man and hauling him forward. Hiccup fought furiously, writhing and trying to break free as he was hauled up before Stoick, who was eating closest to the fire on a large table with Snotlout, Snotlout's father Spitelout, Hoark, Ack, Gobber and Gothi the Elder. He was shoved forward as the three Vikings smirked. With a scowl, Stoick glared at the young Viking, seeing the anger in the green eyes.

"This boy has been speaking against you, Chief!" the second man sneered. "He said that the warriors who lost food in raids shouldn't be allowed food!" Hiccup glared.

"These guys told me I shouldn't be allowed anything to eat because I almost lost some fish today!" he protested. "I just pointed out that by their completely illogical reasoning, our warriors wouldn't get fed at all because they actually lost food to the dragons!" The Council shared glances and Snotlout gave a nasty laugh.

"You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you Useless?" he taunted his cousin.

"You know, you really have no idea," Hiccup replied shortly. "Just for once, could you maybe try to act like a prospective Chief rather than some mutton-headed clown? I have every right to eat here and I don't deserve to be treated like this!"

"Of course you do," Spitelout sneered. "You're a disgrace to the village! No one has ever been removed as Heir before!" Hiccup stared at him.

"And I suppose the fact your son took over my birthright has nothing to do with it?" he replied bitingly. "I suppose you never said a word to my...the Chief, suggesting that your own offspring would be better? That even as stupid, insensitive and reckless as he was, your son would be better than me? I'm sure no one commented that I would never amount to anything. That no one spoke up on my behalf?"

"You don't know what you're..." the man began to bluster, his mean eyes narrowing.

"Of course not!" Hiccup shot back sarcastically. "I mean, in what way did I disgrace the village? Did I insult a neighbouring tribe? Attack the Chief? Or was a small and weak because that was how I was when I was younger-and in the absence of anyone training me with a weapon, how was I supposed to improve? With a father who ignored me and shouted at me at every opportunity, how on Midgard was I supposed to learn anything? And you don't think I didn't hear the whispers, the murmurings about how Spitelout was boasting about his fine son and how he had said he would be far better than the Hiccup that Stoick had as his Heir?" His green eyes turned to his father, the fire in his words surprising his father. "On the walls of this Hall, there are portraits of the former Chiefs with their sons. But you never got one done with me, D...Stoick. You never told me you were proud, that you cared. I can only guess you were embarrassed because I was small and didn't grow...well, not until after you had discarded me. No other Chief threw aside his Heir." He stared piercingly into the Chief's eyes. "I guess I have no father," he said quietly then turned and walked away. There was a scraping behind him as Stoick rose to his feet.

"Come back here!" the Chief roared. Hiccup froze and then turned.

"For what?" he asked directly. "You've made it clear what you think of me. These men have lied to you. I am loyal to you. And you know-I never even wanted to run the village, Dad. I just wanted your love, your approval. I don't think that was too much to ask." His shoulders slumped. "Okay, say what you want. It doesn't matter. Not really." Stock went puce.

"How dare you challenge me?" he bellowed. Backing up a pace, Hiccup's eyes widened.

"I haven't said a word against you," he told the man clearly. "This is a village of bone-headed stubborn Vikings who argue about everything-but I obey my Chief. Even when he only believes the worst of me..."

"Gobber," Stoick said through his teeth, "weren't you telling me that some of your highest quality iron was missing?" Hiccup froze. The two-limbed blacksmith nodded.

"Aye-my best that I was saving," he admitted, swigging his mead. "Half of it vanished." He looked over at the tall shape. Hiccup was looking guilty, his face pale, the fading bruise on his cheek livid against his pale skin. His blue eyes locked on his assistant. "I think I know who took it..."

"I did," Hiccup said immediately. "I used it to repair a weapon that was damaged when that mutton-head Boarface threw me about the forge because his sword wasn't first on the list. I thought that was what metal was there for?"

"Yer know my scrap pile and my best metal-and yer stole my best," Gobber accused him. Hiccup gave a despondent shrug.

"I needed to repair the weapon," he said honestly.

"You stole valuable resources from the village," Stock condemned him. He leaned forward. "Maybe a week in the cells will help you to learn that you can't just take what you want, boy!"

Hiccup just stared at him, his gut twisting in dismay. He had told them what happened-that he had used the metal to make a weapon. Why didn't he say whose weapon? And then he lowered his gaze. He knew Astrid couldn't afford the pricey metal to repair her axe...and her axe was the only real thing that she possessed. He couldn't let her be cornered for this when he was responsible for her axe being broken: he would pay the price.

"Hey, I needed a break," he said smartly. "A few days resting, a little time to meditate and..."

"You will be given only water," Stoick said coldly. "Your family can bring you food, if they wish..." Sighing in defeat, he felt Hoark and Ack take his arms. Giving a small smile, he faced his father.

"Hey, I could stand to lose a little weight," he said sarcastically. "See ya, Chief." And then he allowed himself to be led away.

Astrid looked up from the table where she was sitting with the twins, Fishlegs and the fire crew as he passed and she met his emerald eyes for a brief moment. Her eyes widened as she guessed which weapon he had used the metal on and she opened her mouth-but he shook his head slightly. Suddenly wracked by guilt, she watched him led from the Hall, hearing the sneering condemnation of the others at the table. Staring at the table for a second, she then looked up towards the Council and saw the Chief discussing with his brother and nephew while Gobber was just chugging mead from a flask.

"The nerve of Useless!" Gustav announced in outrage.

"That metal belonged to all of us," Hilda added.

"And it was used to make a weapon to be used to protect us," Astrid pointed out, drinking her water. Else flicked her braids over her shoulders.

"But it was Gobber's call," she argued. "And Useless disobeyed him."

"I think," Astrid said carefully, "Gobber gave no orders either way, since he was in here drinking rather than in the forge."

"But he is the boss," Yaklegs declared. "Useless must know Gobber's orders and..."

"Will you stop calling him that!" Astrid snapped. "He has a name."

"Hiccup!" Ruff sneered. "The runt of the litter!"

"And he is useless!" Tuff added.

"He services all the weapons in the village, works his ass off in the forge and helps Gobber," she said angrily. "How can you call him useless?" The fire crew were staring at her and she glared back, then rose to her feet. "I need a walk," she murmured and stalked out, closing the door and walking down the stairs. Ahead, she could see Hiccup being taken into the jail and her heart sunk. It had almost seemed that they had decided to punish him for...what? Being clumsy? Being knocked aside by Snotlout-which Astrid had seen clearly? She glanced back at the Hall. Something was fundamentally wrong in Berk, wrong in the Hooligan tribe that purported to protect its own-yet ostracised the son of the Chief and didn't really offer any succour for the isolated young woman either.

She walked to the forge and sat on her chest, which she had left for safekeeping with Gobber. Despite the fact the man intermittently abused Hiccup, he was always very kind to Astrid and had repeatedly offered to put her up for the night in the forge. Tonight, she was taking him up on his offer. Quietly, she peered into he workroom, where Hiccup usually slept, his notebooks and plans spread over the desk and his sleeping furs rolled up on a stool. She sighed and opened her chest, laying down her own sleeping furs and huddling up. Then she stared over at Hiccup's furs and knew the young man would be cold and lonely, locked up for helping her. Quietly, she reached out and wrapped his furs around her as well, her eyes burning with tears that he was paying such a price for an act of kindness to someone who he had always liked. And all he asked in return was a smile and a kind word.

Closing her eyes, she vowed that she would give him that-and much more-starting in the morning. Because despite everything, she realised she was just as much of an outcast as he was-and she really couldn't understand why.