Safe Out of Sight

[chofrog09]

“Although how can you know who you are ‘till you know what you want which you don’t so then which do you pick when you’re safe out of sight and yourself but where everything’s wrong? Or where everything’s right and you know that you’ll never belong?” ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter One

Gods, the air was amazing today. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the wind rush over his skin and through his hair as he and Toothless banked right around a pillar of stone. They only just skimmed the surface of the water below before pulling sharply up out of their dive and ascending once again, further separating themselves from the earth, climbing ever closer to the endless sky.

Hiccup let his eyes flutter open, soaking in the surreal milieu of infinite clouds and light that surrounded him. He would never grow accustomed to the absolute wonder that encased his mind, the weightlessness that penetrated his soul; he was caught in a state of perfect enraptured bliss. Nothing could replace the sheer marvel of flight for Hiccup: not all of the possessions in the world, not even the return of the use of his leg. He would gladly give up his terrestrial mobility if only in exchange for flight. A boy and his dragon and the sky. He could never happily leave it.

Which was why he was surprised when some part of his mind recognized the shift in light on the horizon. Hiccup exhaled as the weightless euphoria that coursed through his veins just moments before fled him, his thoughts returning to the land he’d left far below. The sun’s position on the horizon told him the time he had expected to return had long since passed.

“C’mon, bud,” he sighed. “Time to head back.”

Toothless made no motion to change course. Hiccup’s words must not have registered with the dragon, just as enraptured in flight as Hiccup had been. He smiled and reached to pat Toothless’ hide. “It’s later than I thought; we really ought to get back bud.”

Hiccup was taken aback when he felt Toothless’ neck tense beneath his fingers. The dragon’s course remained firm, unyielding. It was now obvious that he had understood Hiccup’s wishes to return, but was determined to fly to the edge of the earth regardless.

Hiccup set to rubbing circles on the dragon’s neck, attempting to smooth out the rigid muscles. “Toothless…” He was wary, ill at ease that he was unable to decipher his best friend’s unusual behavior. “We need to go back now.”

Silence hung in the orange glow of the sunset as they flew steadily onward. Slowly, Hiccup felt the dragon’s muscles relax under his hand. Toothless released a reluctant groan before banking to return to the village, abandoning the open sky behind them.

~~~

The sun was nearly set by the time Berk entered Hiccup’s view. Together, the pair swooped down, clinging to the outskirts of the village and landing smoothly. Hiccup quickly set to removing his riding gear, but found he was unable to work with his usual dexterity. He fumbled with his harness as his thoughts refused to focus on the task at hand.

Toothless had been pining to fly much more frequently than usual in recent weeks. Each day he became visibly more irritable the longer he went between flights. While Hiccup enjoyed flying just as much as the dragon, the increased frequency left his body aching and muscles sore, especially those in his left leg; maneuvering the tailfin with Gobber’s new design and his prosthetic required muscles Hiccup hadn’t even known he possessed until they began burning from the activity.

The overuse had become even more apparent in passing days, as their flights had progressively strayed further and further from Berk. But for all the impatience from the dragon and the extending flights, never had Toothless adamantly refused to turn back to the village when Hiccup wished to return.

While Hiccup certainly enjoyed their increased time spent flying together, he could not rid himself of speculations about the dragon’s strange shift in behavior.

“Hiccup!”

The shout came from the village as a hulking figure in brown furs lumbered towards them. With a gulp Hiccup tried to discretely finish removing his harness and shield the riding gear from Fishlegs’ view, but his efforts were futile. He had been caught.

“We missed you bringing supplies up from the docks this morning,” Fishlegs said as he came to a stop several paces away from them. “And afternoon.”

He purposely averted his eyes from the riding gear poorly hidden from view, perhaps only to give Hiccup the benefit of the doubt, but it was clear where he had been for the greater portion of the day.

“Sorry, Fish, I really didn’t mean to be gone so long.” Hiccup brought a hand up to rub his neck, slightly sheepish for so blatantly avoiding village work and leaving the others to complete his chores.

He honestly hadn’t intended for his absence to be an inconvenience, didn’t think twice about leaving to fly that morning; he had been conditioned by years of his routine disappearances going unnoticed by the majority of the villagers. The new value bestowed upon him was still foreign, and at odds with his generally introverted nature.

Berk’s transformation from cold and distant to welcoming had come much too rapidly, seeming to occur in an instant when his back was turned. Hiccup hadn’t completely adjusted to everything that had so drastically changed while he lay unconscious in bed recovering and wasn’t sure he ever would.

“I’d just cut back on the flying if I were you,” Fishlegs offered, smiling half-heartedly.

“I’ll try, but this one might throw a temper tantrum,” Hiccup jibed at Toothless, who promptly lifted a paw and stomped on his human’s good foot in response. Hiccup yelped and glared at the reptile who stared back with half-lidded eyes, utterly unrepentant. Evidently, the dragon viewed the jab as equal payback for the boy’s insult, but Hiccup did not agree. He aimed to throw an elbow into the dragon behind him, so as to settle the score, but ended up on his rear on the ground when his target shifted nonchalantly out of the way.

Fuming, Hiccup shot Toothless another glare from the ground. The dragon merely looked smug; clearly pleased he had made his point. “I see very few fish in your future,” the boy hissed through gritted teeth. Exasperated, Toothless whuffed and caved to helping his human to his feet with a swoop of his tail. It was Hiccup’s turn to look smug, to which the dragon nearly rolled his eyes. Threatening his fish supply. Low blow.

Fishlegs, who had failed to respond to the fiasco as it occurred before him, continued to stand unmoving before the bickering pair. Anxiety permeated the air around him.

“Fishlegs, was there something you wanted to tell me?” Hiccup asked. Fishlegs continued to stare uncomfortably at the ground, willing to focus on anything but Hiccup. Something was up. “Fish…” he pried.

“Ah…um, I was kind of sent to let you know that you’re sort of supposed to go…um…” he trailed, still not looking at Hiccup, dragging a toe awkwardly through the dirt.

“Fishlegs…”

“Your dad wants to talk to you,” Fishlegs mumbled quickly. Hiccup internally groaned. “He just said to send you as soon as…well, whenever you decided to reappear.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Fish,” Hiccup said as he managed half a smile, but he could not keep the unease from his voice. If his father had gone as far as to send a messenger for him, nothing good could be in store for him. Fishlegs only nodded as he turned back toward the village square.

Hiccup stared after the boy from where he stood at the forest’s edge and watched him disappear into the heart of the town. He exhaled slowly as the full weight of what await him upon his return home pressed down on him. He remained rooted to the spot, partially due to his aching muscles from the day’s ride, but also to prolong his time away from the impending lecture from his father.

However, his father’s lectures had certainly changed since the Battle with the Green Death. The condescension and scathing disappointment that previously permeated his father’s regard of him had seemingly melted away. Everyone had seen his distinct transformation and now knew that Stoick regarded his son with unmistakable pride. But with that pride came expectation, which almost pained Hiccup more than the disappointment. He wondered if, had he not wished so dearly for the positive regard of the village and attention of his peers for the majority of his life, he would resent that too.

Hiccup’s downward spiraling thoughts were halted by a nudge to his back. He turned to see Toothless, peering at him with wide, concerned eyes. The dragon was troubled that the boy had been quiet for much too long; it almost always meant something was amiss. He continued to nuzzle the boy until the morose scowl left his features.

Hiccup managed a laugh. “Thanks, bud.” Despite his newfound acceptance from his father, friends, and potential girlfriend, the dragon still understood him better than any person he knew. He smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind the dragon’s ear-plate, at which Toothless gurgled happily. “Nothing I can do about it now except go see what he has to say,” Hiccup sighed, resigning to head towards his house and the unavoidable stern talking-to from his father. He gave Toothless a final scratch behind the ear-plate as a bid goodnight before turning towards the village square.
Before he could take more than two steps, he felt a tug at his back. Toothless nipped at his tunic, preventing him from making any further progress towards his house. Hiccup eyed the dragon, bewildered by yet another display of uncharacteristic behavior from him that day.

“Toothless, what’s wrong?” He rubbed the dragon’s neck in soothing, reassuring circles, but Toothless kept his human rooted to the spot, staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading.
His boy had been in such high spirits flying all day: in the sky, every discomfort that plagued him left far below them on the ground, indistinguishable from the home aloft. Toothless could feel the weight returning to his clan brought upon his boy. It radiated from him, nearly tangible as it hung between them in the still night air; a burden. The dragon wanted nothing more than to liberate his human, allow him that same weightlessness he felt so poignantly in the sky. The freedom they both adored.

For the first time, Hiccup could not fathom what Toothless was trying to communicate. “I gotta get home, bud. I promise we’ll go flying first thing in the morning, okay?” He grunted as he freed the hem of his tunic from the dragon’s maw and sighed as he moved to scratch the bridge of his snout. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, wishing more than anything for the disappointment coloring the dragon’s features to disappear. When his efforts left Toothless’ expression unchanged, Hiccup let his hand fall and turned once again from his dragon and toward his house. This time, no tug on his tunic prevented him from reaching the village square.

Upon stepping onto the stone of the village border, Hiccup turned just in time to see his dragon dart away into the wood. He disappeared between the trees, putting yet more distance between himself and his human than before.

~~~

Hiccup stared at the door: at the wood in particular, marveling at the pattern of the grain, how it wove in and out of itself, an intricate dance choreographed by nature and intertwined with the life of the tree itself.

The longer Hiccup pondered the beauty of the wood grain and its symbolic meaning within the macrocosm of life, the more he realized he was stalling. He lifted a hand, poised to latch onto the door handle, but let it hang frozen in midair. He grimaced. The thought of entering his own house should not have paralyzed him so. But he was not only entering his house; he was entering the same room as his father, who had made it perfectly clear via a specified messenger that he had a bone to pick with his son.
Despite having earned his father’s acceptance, fear of disappointment was still present in their recovering relationship, and frequently made itself known in the pregnant pauses that still managed to permeate their relatively infrequent conversations. One of which just happened to loom before him beyond the door that he occupied himself with, and Hiccup realized that he’d like to face it sooner rather than later.

Once again, he drew in breath from the cold night air and reached forward to grip the door handle. However, just as his fingers brushed the brass, the door flew open in front of him. He didn’t need to look up to know his father’s broad, imposing frame filled the doorway.

“Ah, there yeh are, son.” Hiccup released some of his held breath upon hearing more relief in his father’s tone than the anger he had expected.

“Hi, dad,” he offered, unable to think of anything more eloquent to potentially explain his day-long absence. Stoick moved from the doorway to ten the fire burning in the center of the room, allowing Hiccup to step inside. As he turned to close the door, Hiccup noticed that his father continually shifted his weight: fidgety, appearing very much unsettled rather than enraged.

Stoick resigned to sit in his chair by the fire, but did not look up from the floor, did not make eye contact with his son. The overwhelming disappointment permeated the dank air of the room, and Hiccup felt guilt roll from the pit of his stomach up to his throat. His father’s solemnity was worse than any degree of severity he could have unleashed.

“Dad, I know that this looks bad and I know I messed up, but I really wasn’t trying, I mean, I just wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hiccup.” Stoick held up a hand to signal his son to stop speaking as he stumbled over himself in hasty explanation. The boy pressed his lips together, relinquishing any attempt at excusing his absence. His father lifted his gaze from the wooden planks of the floor to look his son in the eyes.

Hiccup was taken aback to see, not frustration or exasperation, but hurt there, causing the guilt in his throat to thicken. “The others had tae complete yer village tasks today.” The guilt choking Hiccup prevented him from speaking. “Yeh cannot just decide to leave without tellin’ anyone where yeh’re goin’ or when yeh’re comin’ back.” Stoick sighed. “I understand the treatment yeh’ve been used to, but our lives are different now, changed for the better because of yeh, Hiccup. Yeh do understand that, son?”
Stoick paused to gage his son’s comprehension, hoping the boy could see where he was coming from. “These people are open now tae look to yeh for leadership, an’ have accepted yeh as their future leader.”

Hiccup’s stomach dropped. Oh, Gods.

“It’s time yeh look toward yer future role as chief.”

No. Nonono, this was not supposed to happen. Not yet, not now. The subject of Hiccup’s eventual inheritance of the role of chief was one that had been carefully maneuvered around throughout the larger portion of his life; the thought of Hiccup the Useless one day ascending to chiefdom had, until recently, struck fear in the hearts of the Hooligans.

It was Hiccup’s understanding that he was unanimously regarded as unfit for the job and the chiefdom would eventually be held by Snotlout, the next qualified heir in their bloodline. At least, that was the plan until his commendation as Hiccup the Useful via a severed left leg.

The premise had previously been so thoroughly avoided with him that, while it lurked somewhere in his subconscious mind, he almost forgot he would have to face the topic with his father in light of recent events.

“I’m not a leader, dad…” he tried weakly, desperately attempting to steer away from the topic.

“Yes, yeh are,” Stoick insisted. “Yeh’re ready to start takin’ on more of a leader’s responsibilities.”

“Actually, I’m really very extra-sure that I’m not.”

“It’s time, Hiccup,” Stoick boomed. Firm, unmoving. Hiccup was immediately taken back to the last time his father stood before him like so: insistent, unrelenting, too set in his ways to even ponder his son’s input. Only after leading his warriors into a lethal battle by way of his own folly and indirectly instigating events that led to his son’s close sweep with death and amputation did he open his mind.

“This conversation is feeling very one-sided.” Hiccup spoke through gritted teeth, his voice low. Stoick’s expression softened as he recognized the reference to their conversation many months ago, from another lifetime it seemed. Never had he anticipated such far-reaching implications of that seemingly insignificant exchange. The chief exhaled slowly, doing the best he could to acknowledge the viewpoint of his heir.

“That’s nae what I want this tae be, Hiccup.” He stepped closer to the boy, willing him to glimpse some shreds of understanding in his expression. “The role of a chief is somethin’ yeh have to be willin’ to take on.”

Hiccup was silent, dying for the topic to be left alone.

“I’m not.”

Stoick was quiet as well. They both stood still as the tension between them became too viscous to bear. Stoick, releasing another long-held breath, turned back to the fire and set to adjusting the burning logs. Embers of ashen tinder and still burning kindle glowed beneath the charred fuel. The silence had long since become unbearable, yet Stoick declined to dismiss his son, who stood awkwardly behind him, inching toward the stairs and cringing every time a new log was thrown on top of the fire. The crackling flames hurriedly engulfed the firewood, wasting no time in devouring their fresh offering of fuel.

“Think on it,” Stoick said, effectively ending their conversation. And with that, Hiccup immediately bolted up the stairs and out of sight.
The cold darkness of his room was wonderfully inviting after the suffocating dryness and heat of the main floor. Upon entering, Hiccup became painfully aware that he was both mentally and physically drained from the myriad of strange occurrences that day, and made a beeline for his bed.

He flopped onto his back, aching to remove his prosthetic to allow the wound to breathe, but far too fatigued to force his limbs to do so. In fact, he was far too tired to do anything beyond close his eyes to sleep. Therefore, he would not think about the prospect of being chief one day as his father had asked him to do (he wasn’t sure he ever would), and he would not think about Toothless’ increasingly odd behavior. He instead pushed his anxieties to the deeper recesses of his mind and let himself drift into a fitful sleep.

Downstairs, the newly stoked fire continued to burn. It ate at its freshly provided fuel until the glowing embers grew into a blaze.

~~~

I went a l’il symbolism happy. ‘Twas quite enjoyable.

Hiccup dun wanna be a chief. Nopes. Toothy is free spirit and getting’ a l’il attitude.

I really wanna get this fic rolling, hoping this chapter gives it a nice push. Tried to include lots here for y’all to gnaw on. I drew from my college audition piece On the Steps of the Palace from Into the Woods. Hopefully will be drawing parallels there ^.^

This may or may not be rampant with mechanical errors, please help point ‘em out if you can so they can be accordingly remedied.

As always, constructive feedback is thoroughly appreciated! ^.^

How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell
Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim

[nightfurymaster]

Gotta hit the sack, defff gonna read this tomorrow!

[chofrog09]

"And whichever you pick do it quick 'cause you're starting to stick to the steps of the palace." ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter Two

Hiccup shivered and pulled his vest tighter around his shoulders. The crisp morning air whipped at his cheeks and stung his throat as he inhaled. Though slivers of sunlight shone through the clouds, the severity of the wind and frozen ground clearly indicated that winter was upon them.

As Hiccup trudged from the stables, where he had stored his riding gear from earlier that morning, to the smithy, he was thankful that the impending drifts of snow had yet to show themselves. But even for the lack of snow, Hiccup could feel the chill nipping at the toes of his right foot. He noted he would need to replace his thinning boot soon, and nearly smirked at the newly discovered convenience of having only one temperature-sensitive foot.

There was a distinct lack of hustle and bustle as Hiccup made his way through the heart of the village square, an eerie silence broken only by the rhythmic clinking of his metal prosthetic against the cold stone. Though unexpected, Hiccup was glad for the solitude in which he made his trek. The silence that surrounded him enabled his mind to breathe, to unwind. Thoughts that were normally trapped in the cacophony of his environment were allowed to flow, absolutely a boon to him after the immense burden forced on him by his father the night before.

After a restless night, interrupted repeatedly by the downward spiral of his subconscious, Hiccup had been relieved to hear Toothless clawing impatiently at his roof. The early morning flight was the perfect remedy for his troubled thoughts. Physically separating himself from the earth had served to purify his muddled mind, lift the heaviness that had so abruptly been thrust upon him. A cleansing. If "steps toward preparing for the chiefdom" were really going to be taken as his father had stated, he was going to be pining to fly just as frequently as Toothless had recently.

Realizing that flying time would likely become the only time he would spend away from the watchful eyes of the villagers, he decided the early morning flights should heretofore become routine; the rejuvenation of flight as well as the rare stillness of the village were both too breathtaking to neglect. That and he hoped that remaining in the immediate vicinity of the village for as much of the active day as possibly would prevent further berating from his father. Perhaps spending more of his time performing village duties could prolong the pressing of any "next steps" towards leadership. Thus, despite the bitterness in the air, Hiccup continued to trek towards the forge, where helping complete projects for Gobber would serve both as participating in village duties and as a refuge from the choking tension welling up inside his own house.

Stepping into the forge and exchanging his vest for his smithing apron, Hiccup couldn't help but notice the clean, organized condition of the main workspace.

Gobber evidently had not been in the forge yet that morning.

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder at the sun as he tied his apron around his waist. The sun sat just below the sea in the east. He guessed that Gobber, not the earliest of risers, would not be arriving for a while longer, leaving Hiccup time to focus on his personal projects. Time which had lately been in short supply due to the sheer quantity of riding gear that had yet to be made and redesigned for the majority of the village. While an excellent craftsman, Gobber's experience with dragon-riding was severely lacking. Hiccup's expertise in the area was crucial to creating functional riding gear for each specific dragon-Viking duo in Berk. Though customized riding gear for each villager proved to be beneficial in adapting to their new way of life, it also proved to be extremely time-consuming, leaving almost no time for Hiccup to dedicate to his own projects.

He made his way to the back corner of the forge where a small area lay secluded from the openness of the rest of the smithy. He pulled aside the curtain that partitioned his personal workspace and grimaced. Contrary to the current pristine condition of the main workspace, his room lay in utter disarray: drawings and half-completed schematics cluttered the desk, papers were scattered across the floor and crammed into corners. It was thoroughly apparent that the workspace had not lately seen the light of day. Hiccup bent to the floor and set to shuffling the disorder into relatively organized piled, but he knew his efforts were futile. The mess ha d been neglected for far too long to be amended.

Hiccup was aware he had been lagging behind in his projects as a result of the immense amounts of time he spent away from the ground, but he certainly hadn't expected his personal projects to fall into such a state of disrepair. Dejected, Hiccup let the papers he had haphazardly begun to gather in his arms fall to the ground and flopped onto his back. The sudden action created a gust of air that lifted several schematics into the air. They fell lazily about him, an imitation of the dying autumn's last leaves.

One in particular floated above him and fell to rest over his face. Exhaling lightly, he reached up to move the paper from obscuring his vision and held it at arms length. It was covered in sketches, half-thought out dribbles of possible schematics that had sputtered and died out mid-creation. They all revolved around the same invention, designs that all attacked the device from different angles, but each failed to turn into something that could become a physical reality. The idea itself was one that Hiccup was quite proud of and certainly would prove beneficial to both him and Toothless if he could just figure out a plausible way to go about actually building it.

He sat up, mulling over the dismissed designs sketched across the paper. Each partially processed contraption had the potential to work, if only he could figure out a way to mesh them into a fully functioning design.

He paused. Jumping up from his seat on the floor, Hiccup moved to the cluttered table and quickly brushed a jumble of plans to the side to make room for the paper in his hand. He fumblingly grasped for a pencil and frantically set to sketching. Maybe he didn't need an entirely new base for his contraption, maybe he just needed to mesh his existing designs together…

"Oi, there yeh are, lad! I was wonderin' where yeh'd gone off tae yesterday."

Gobber's sudden presence in the entrance of his workspace nearly caused Hiccup to tumble off the back of his stool. A yelp escaped him as he spun around to face the blacksmith towering in the entryway. Having released a higher-pitched noise than he would have preferred to ever make, he coughed to ensure his next words would be much lower and masculine.

"I was…out," he explained lamely. He kept his eyes down, trying his best to inconspicuously conceal the schematics he had been absorbed in just moments before, suddenly ashamed at the implications of his design.

"I was thinkin' that dragon o' yers had carried yeh off," Gobber called as he turned back to the main forge, situating a pair of tongs into the stump of his left arm. Hiccup smiled wryly. If only Gobber knew how close he was to the truth.

"Nah, I just lost track of time," Hiccup replied, hopping up from his stool and following Gobber, closing the curtain to his workspace behind him. He would make time for his freshly inspired project later.

He found himself forced to focus on obligatory tasks when Gobber thrust a half-finished saddle into his arms.

"Well yeh best pay attention today. Those hides aren't goin' to cure themselves," Gobber said, nodding to the piles of furs that were to become saddles. With so many villagers suddenly in need of them, the blacksmith's stall had recently doubled as the tanner's. Though inexperienced with the art, Hiccup had been learning more about the process as each saddle was completed. Included in the projects he planned to complete on his own time was an improved saddle for Toothless: one fashioned with better technique than his experimental version. But he also learned that the entire process of curing hide for leather was painstakingly time consuming, and responsible for the dilapidated state of his personal workspace.

"I'll try my best," Hiccup replied sardonically, moving toward the hides that that Gobber had indicated. He set to work, glad that his mind would be occupied by the task for the majority of his day in the forge, disabling him from dwelling on his own troubled thoughts. However, before long he heard the burly Viking across the stall cease working. Gobber was silent for a moment before sighing and turning to address the boy.

"Look, Hiccup, I know yeh're not much interested in yer future or the future o' the village…"

"Glad to hear you think so highly of me," Hiccup deadpanned. Gobber was certainly not one to be roundabout in his manner of speaking.

"Yeh know thas' nae what I meant," Gobber reprimanded. He sighed again, and continued, speaking more softly. "I just want yeh tae know that, regardless of how yeh may feel now, yer father has good intentions."

Hiccup internally groaned. This was the exact topic he was determined to avoid. It was following him, shadowing him throughout the village no matter how far he strayed from his house and father. As long as he stayed connected to the ground, anyway.

"Gobber…"

"Hear me out now, Hiccup," Gobber interrupted. "He just wants yeh tae be prepared when the time comes. Tae be absolutely reader to take on yer role." He paused, debating whether his next words were even his duty to tell the boy. "He doesn't want yeh tae be in the same position he was."

Hiccup froze, dropping the hide he held in his hands and finally turning to face Gobber.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that yer father was forced by necessity to become chief before he was ready and he doesn't want that for you." Hiccup made no response; his throat was too tight, choked. Even if he had been capable of speech, he was at an utter loss for words.

Amidst the uncomfortable, infrequent relations with his father in the past sixteen years, Hiccup had never learned and specific details of his father's younger years. Occasions on which Stoick spoke of his past were few and far between. When he did reminisce, it almost always was solely of Valhallarama.

Hiccup had always imagined that his father must have been enthralled, honored to become chief. To hear that in fact the opposite was true threw everything he thought he knew about his father out of balance.

"When yer grandfather passed, yer father was merely a young man. Don' get me wrong, Stoick always knew who he was and who he was to become but…we all thought, including yer grandfather, that he'd have more time to grow into a leader.

"Stoick knows our lives are unpredictable. Yeh've already proven yer capable, Hiccup. He jus' wants tae be sure that yer ready when the time comes, whenever that may be."

Hiccup couldn't stop his head from spinning. His vision had become fuzzy, the stall around Gobber's visage sliding in and out of focus. The lines of his surroundings blurred, as did his conviction from the night before.

Gobber's five minute tale had revealed more about his father than Hiccup had learned from the man himself in years. It explained his unwavering dedication to a chiefdom that began with less-than-exemplary performance, it explained his frustrations with an only son who appeared to be incapable of leadership, but, most of all, it explained the pressure he put on Hiccup now that he had proven he could lead in the eyes of the village.

But not in Hiccup's own eyes.

Turmoil gathered in the pit of his stomach, travelling further up his throat each moment he spent staring into nothingness, processing. He leaned on the workbench behind him for support.

Gobber must have seen the chaos whirling behind the boy's eyes, for he crossed the stall and lifted Hiccup by the scruff of his tunic from his collapsed stance against the workbench with the tongs of his left arm and set him firmly on his feet. Gobber considered him a moment longer.

"Go on." Hiccup fought through his frenzied thoughts to comprehend.

"What?"

"Go on. I'll cover the stall for today."

"But…but the riding gear and…" Gobber ended his protests by gripping the boy's shoulder with his good hand.

"Yeh look like yeh could use a breather."

Air was precisely was Hiccup needed. Air, sky, and nothing but sea below for miles and miles. Requiring no further convincing, Hiccup smiled gratefully before throwing off his smithing apron and bolting from the forge.

"Don' get too used tae bein' lazy now yeh hear?" Gobber called after the boy as he dashed away toward the forest. "Yeh best be here firs' thing in the mornin' tomorrow!"

Hiccup bothered only to respond with a wave; he was preoccupied with bounding towards his dragon as fast as his prosthetic would allow. His internal conflict was pushed to the back of his consciousness as he set himself to finding Toothless and pure weightlessness in the sky.

~~~

The knot in Hiccup's stomach returned as soon as he touched the ground.

It was sickening; the moment he and Toothless landed at the edge of the village square, he was thrown mercilessly to the tumult of his conscience, the freedom that flowed through every fiber of his being in the sky vanished.

Though, Hiccup pondered, the weight may have even begun to set in not as they landed, but when it came time to turn back to Berk. Toothless had yet again adamantly refused to change course, becoming irate rather than saddened as Hiccup insisted they return. Upon landing, Toothless had almost immediately bounded into the woods without showing his human any playful affection or even positive acknowledgement as he usually did.

Hiccup reached up to stow away his riding gear on its shelf. The stables were empty as he continued to stand in front of his shelf, unwilling to trek back to his house.

It was simply unfair. He shouldn't feel torn between Toothless and his village anymore; that was precisely why he had found the courage to present his blasphemous ideas to an entire village of obstinate Vikings. He had sacrificed his leg, nearly his life, to make amends between lifelong enemies. Was that still not enough for the two halves of his soul to agree to coexist peacefully? And if it wasn't, Hiccup wondered if they ever would.

"Look who decided to come out of hiding." The girl's voice broke the haze that encased Hiccup's mind, forcefully throwing him back into the outside world. He spun to face the stable entryway from where she had called. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, smirking as she shook her head. She was surprised she had even managed to find him given his increasingly regular disappearances as of late.

"Oh…hey, Astrid," Hiccup replied as she crossed the floor to stand only a few paces away from him. She appraised him, but was still unable to fathom the boy's dazed expression. When Hiccup failed to continue speaking, she sat back on her hip, determined to uncover the thoughts he was determined to keep out of sight.

"You've been disappearing," she observed. "Again." Hiccup acknowledged that he was falling into a routine similar to his frequent forest excursions from only a few months ago.

"Yeah, I guess I have."

"You've been flying."

"Mostly, yeah." Hiccup ran a hand through his windswept hair, only succeeding in mussing it further. While he averted his gaze to the floor, Astrid looked directly at his face, silent. His eyes were dull and sunken from worry, anxiety emanated from his voice and posture. He was weighted and weary, but, more than anything else, tired.

"I missed you."

Hiccup's eyes snapped up from their focus on the floor to regard the girl, partially in surprise, but also to confirm the sincerity of her statement. When her expression revealed nothing but authenticity, the boy let himself grin, the simple action relieving an extraordinary burden from his chest. Astrid allowed a chuckle at his slightly bewildered reaction. Pleased to have succeeded in lifting his spirits somewhat, she reached to take hold of Hiccup's elbow.

"C'mon," she said, nodding her head towards the entryway, "Let's hear what's on your mind." She moved to the door, turning to the path that led, not toward the village square, but through the hills overlooking Berk. Hiccup, glad to have a human who was willing to listen, followed.

~~~

"Wow."

"Yup."

"Sounds like a mess."

Hiccup merely nodded and lay back on the grass, resting the back of his hand over his eyes. Though it began with a particularly chilly morning, the day had proven mild for late autumn, and Hiccup savored what he knew was the last warmth of the year before the snow swept in.

While wary at first, Hiccup found that reliving the confrontation with his father unexpectedly freeing. He was admittedly surprised when Astrid proved to be understanding of his predicament, even sympathetic. Though her treatment of him had improved tremendously within the last month since their discovery of the nest together, he was still taken aback when the girl who had disdained him so since childhood showed him understanding and respect. Of course, he wasn't complaining; he was sincerely fond of the gentler Astrid and was thrilled that she seemed taken with him as well, but it would take time to grow comfortable in each other's company.

Regardless, Hiccup was glad to have another human who genuinely wanted to know what it was that was plaguing him and, above all, was willing to listen. Not judge or advise, but listen and understand. Her openness was worth more to him than the eager attention of the entire village.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I have no idea," Hiccup groaned, still covering his eyes.

"You've already exhausted the stupid and crazy options." He could hear the smile in her voice. He lifted his hand to

"Well I guess I'm out of alternatives then aren't I?" he teased back. For the first time, Astrid threw her head back and laughed at his words. He allowed himself to join, relishing the carefree moment amidst the mess he found piled upon his shoulders. Their voices carried over the rooftops of the village, out to the cliffs of the shore. It ricocheted off the craggy rock faces and overhangs, bouncing off the rolling waves and out to sea far beyond the limits of the isle.

"Well, for now I'm sure Toothless is enjoying the extended flying time," Astrid chuckled as their raucous laughter died down. Immediately Hiccup was reminded of ever more pressing dilemma with his dragon. Astrid noticed the distinct shift in her features. There was something else the boy was hiding that he wasn't telling her. "Out with it."

"It's nothing," Hiccup said as nonchalantly as he could muster. He could feel the heat of Astrid's stare boring into his shoulder. He didn't have to look at her face to identify that she wasn't letting him leave until he explained himself.

But he looked at the girl anyway. Her eyes were blazing and her mouth was set in a stony grimace. Though, behind her dangerous glare, concern flickered in her expression. Hiccup had to remind himself that this was the new Astrid: the girl who had literally dragged him from his hiding place, who had just sat and willingly listened to his unfiltered anxieties with his father's proposition and had understood. She deserved the chance show the same understanding of his predicament with his dragon.

He exhaled, resigned.

"Toothless has been restless lately, antsy. We could be flying for hours, but when it's time to turn back he's so…reluctant. He'll ignore me. Get angry even, lately." Hiccup found Toothless' behavior difficult to put into words, but Astrid listened on nonetheless. "I…he's not happy. And he won't even try to communicate what's wrong." He looked away from the girl and out over the rooftops of the village, focusing on the distant horizon where the sea fell over the edge of the earth. "I don't know what to do, Astrid," he admitted, lying back again on the grass and staring blankly up at the sky. The sky, which proved only to be a temporary treatment of a more serious disease.

She was quiet, narrowing her eyes at the far-off spot Hiccup had been focusing on earlier. Puzzled as well, she reclined back on the grass as Hiccup did.

"Well," she pondered, "if I were a dragon I wouldn't be happy trapped in a village either."

The ground beneath him tilted nauseatingly. The warmth of the air instantly froze, stagnant in his lungs, disorienting.

The rift between the two halves of his life was far more concrete than he had thought. It was obvious, so painfully obvious, now that someone had actually said it aloud. The extended flights, the restlessness, the irritability: Toothless was a majestic beast chained to the life of a house pet because of his weakling, handicapped rider. And was finally growing tired of it.

And suddenly, Hiccup had more problems than he knew what to do with.

~~~~~

Blurdeblurdeblurdeblur. Astrid? Nice? Whaaaaa?

I tried to keep a bit of an attitude around her, but with a more caring touch.

Hiccup is sad 'cuz he's insecure and feels inadequate. I wonder what Toothless has to say about that =P. If he'd show up, which he didn't really in this chapter. But he will I promise xD

Spelling and grammatical errors abound. I lack a beta, and he is currently unable to edit, so fixes are much appreciated! As always, constructive feedback is as well! ^.^

How to Train Your Dragon © DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell

Into the Woods © Lapine, Sondheim