Safe Out of Sight - Chapter Nine

"This is more than just malice. Better stop and take stock while you're standing here stuck on the steps of the palace." ~ On the Steps of the Palace: Into the Woods

Chapter 9

The Meathead village eerily echoed the current emptiness of Berk. As the Hooligan teens approached the south island, Astrid couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of longboats at the docks. The village square was nearly empty, left in disarray by a tribe who apparently had somewhere very important to be at very short notice.

"Wow," Astrid breathed. "It's like a ghost town."

"A ghost town?" Tuffnut asked, from where he sat lounging on the neck of the twins' Zippleback. "So like…with real ghosts and stuff?"

Astrid rolled her eyes, barely tempting to grace Tuffnut's comment with a response.

"Not really, it's more of an expression," Fishlegs answered him. The correction went into Tuffnut's ear and directly out the other.

"Ah man, I hope we see some. Maybe they like to break things…"

Astrid allowed Snotlout to retort to Tuffnut's musings this time; she was busy enough searching the abandoned village for their destination. If he wasn't there, then they weren't going to get the answer they came for and, quite frankly, Astrid was not okay with that prospect.

Noticing the girl's stony grimace unchanged for too long, Fishlegs flew in closer to her. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll get what we came for."

Astrid did her best to manage a smile. "I hope so, Fish. I really don't have a backup plan for this one…" And then she spotted it. "There! Land in the clearing behind that house," Astrid called to the rest of the group. Their dragons circled as they approached the highest point of the village, all touching down near the chief's house. All of the riders dismounted quickly, sensing the urgency of the situation, but Astrid was already marching to the door before anyone else's feet had even touched the ground.

Any politeness appropriate for dealing with the heir of their neighboring tribe cast aside, Astrid all but knocked down the front door. While part of her mind knew the obnoxious knocking wasn't at all necessary, the dominant portion needed to confirm the chief's son was still on the island as soon as possible. However, knowing Thuggory, if his father's expedition had any hint of sinister motive, he would have adamantly refused to take part; the two of them hadn't seen eye to eye on many a method of leadership for quite some time. Disagreement between chief and heir created a discord in the village that prevented the Meatheads from visiting Berk for the past several years. However, the last time Astrid had seen Thuggory, his behavior had been less than proper. Perhaps the years had remedied his feelings regarding her…

When the door opened, Astrid barely stopped her knocking in time to avoid inadvertently socking Thuggory in the nose.

"Astrid!" he exclaimed, leaning back quickly to avoid her fist. "Interesting way to greet someone you haven't seen in years." He smiled coyly and Astrid withdrew her hand, folding her arms across her chest.

"We've been busy," she explained coolly. "As have you."

Thuggory nodded, chuckling at the massive understatement. "Yeah. Pretty busy…" Pulling fingers through his black hair, he tried to smile at her again. Astrid crossed her arms more tightly, if that were possible.

Either not recognizing her wishes to discuss strictly business, or simply choosing not to acknowledge them, he continued their present vein of conversation. "So how've you been? Gotten yourself a husband, or has no one worthy presented themselves yet?"

And there it was. Same old Thuggory. She should have just let herself punch him earlier when he opened the door; it would have been justified.

"We have to speak with you about your tribe's current undertakings," Astrid said, effectively redirecting the conversation. Thuggory raised an eyebrow. "We have reason to believe that actions of your father and his warriors have interfered with Hooligan affairs."

Thuggory understood her statement, but failed to see any possible connection between his father's recent escapade and the Hooligans. Perplexed, he stood aside and held the door open. "Why don't we sit down and talk about it then?"

Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but was nearly trampled by the rest of the gang as they readily accepted Thuggory's invitation inside out of the cold of the settling winter. As they settled themselves quickly into the warmth of the chief's house, Astrid relinquished any hope for a quick, painless exchange. Resigned, she accepted Thuggory's invitation into the house.

The ground floor more or less resembled those on Berk; Spartan, efficient, yet comfortable by Viking standards. The others had gathered around the table near the center of the space, save the twins, who were almost immediately distracted by the weapons of destruction adorning the walls. Astrid allowed her gaze to travel along the rows of weaponry that hung around them, noting that they covered all four of the room's walls. Closing them in. Though of course there were still weapons in the homes of Berk, the way of the warrior still a fundamental element of the Viking tradition, their purpose had changed along with their lifestyle after the war. They served solely as symbols of their strength and ability, only used when necessary. The weapons bore down upon them, primed and ready for battle, almost as if the war still raged on.

"So," Thuggory began, "what brings you here Astrid?"

"We all came," Astrid subtly corrected, "because our entire fleet just left on urgent business. Business that had something to do with your tribe."

Thuggory eyed her warily. He knew exactly where his father and their warriors had gone, for he was supposed to be on the ship at his father's side. But if the Hooligans were now involved, it could only spell bad news for all of them. Seeing he was clearly holding back information to hopefully spare her emotions, Astrid impatiently egged him on.

"You know what's going on, don't you Thuggory?"

"Of course I do, but I purposely am not involved for a reason. I adamantly refused to participate in Mogadon's selfish escapades," he replied, referring to his father by first name as if to distance himself from his blood-ties with the man. "When the time comes, I'm going to lead the Meathead tribe my way. I'm not going to be like him."

For a moment, Astrid had trouble responding. It was difficult for the Hooligans to understand the boy's attitude; Stoick the Vast was an excellent chief, much loved and respected by his people, and Hiccup had certainly proven himself to be a worthy heir. Although, until recently the entire Isle had had their doubts about him…

Astrid nearly gasped aloud. Hiccup had, until recently, been the laughing stock of the village: the worst Viking Berk had ever seen, the butt of every snide joke from Snotlout or Tuffnut, the victim of everyone else's abuse. Becoming chief had surely been the very last thing on Hiccup's mind his entire life and now, amidst a rapidly developing society, he was suddenly expected to be prepared to accept a role he had never even dreamt of holding. No one – especially Hiccup, quiet, gracious, and introverted as he was – could ever adapt to that much expectation and pressure so quickly.

Of course he left, and she could barely fault him for it. It made so much sense that Astrid could slam her head against the table in front of her for not seeing it sooner. However, she restrained herself given that such sudden, self-directed violence may perplex her present company, and instead returned her attention from the heir who was missing-in-action to the heir sitting across from her. Despite his willingness to help the Hooligans, his disdain for whatever his father was planning to do clamped his mouth shut.

"Thuggory," Astrid pleaded, "You don't have to be involved. It's not your fight. We just need to know what's happening."

Thuggory laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, but I would end up involved Astrid. I'd have to be. If I tell you where they are I know you'll go running off to try to stop them. I'd bet my best axe that's exactly what Stoick did."

"Then all the more reason for us to know too!" Thuggory took a step back and the Hooligans leaned back in their chairs, eyes wide. Astrid wondered why until she discovered she had risen to her feet, fists on the table. She exhaled. "Thuggory," she tried again, "Hiccup could very well be in danger."

"The Dragon Trainer?" Thuggory asked, stepping towards her again. "Why do you say that?"

Astrid held her breath. Though Thuggory was an ally, she was entrusting him with dangerous information. But she had to; it seemed to be the only way to get the information they needed to help Hiccup. "He's gone," she said.

Finally, Thuggory pulled out the chair at the head of the table where he had been standing and sat down across from her. "Fine," he conceded. "They've gone to the southern lands, planning to head towards the kingdom Conaille Muirtheimne, south of Ulaidh. Mogadon plans to raid port villages on the outskirts before heading to the kingdom itself."

The southern lands. Hiccup would surely go to the south. No one in their right mind would travel north of Berk this time of the season; Berk itself was merely a few degrees south of Freezing to Death as it were. If this was true and Hiccup really was somewhere south of Ulaidh, then he was almost certainly in danger of getting caught in the crossfire of a Meathead raid.

"But what would your dad want with Hiccup? And how does he know where he is?" Astrid questioned Thuggory. He merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Your guess is as good as mine, honestly," he said. "He asked your warriors to join him, but Stoick refused."

"Of course he refused; our tribe has finally had peace after centuries of war!"

"Clearly, I agree with you wholeheartedly," Thuggory replied. "But then why, after refusing to participate in the raids, did Stoick follow him?"

"Because," Fishlegs said, standing as every head in the room whipped towards the voice speaking for the first time in the exchange thus far, "that is where Hiccup is. Why else would Stoick get involved?"

With a sickening lurch of her stomach, Astrid realized Fishlegs was right. Hiccup was about to play victim in a Viking raid. Worse, a raid by the Meatheads, whose chief had been denied assistance from the Hooligans. As far as Mogadon was concerned, he was no better than the enemy.

Astrid stood. "Thank you, Thuggory, for everything," she said, then immediately headed for the door. The other quickly followed her lead, pushing out into the bitter winter air and preparing their dragons for flight.

"Wait!" Thuggory called, following them out of the house, but stopping cold when he rounded to corner to see four dragons comfortably situated directly behind his house. The Meatheads knew the battle that had ensued at the Nest, the discoveries the Horrendous Haddock boy had made, and that Berk had accepted dragons as elements of their everyday lives, but all of these tales sounded to the Meatheads as if they came from a work of fiction not their neighboring Isle. They hadn't, nor had any other tribes to his knowledge, adopted the ways of the Hooligans nor had any present plans to do so. The dragon raids were over, and that was enough for them. Therefore, Thuggory kept his distance while the visitors prepared for departure. "What are you going to do?"

Astrid smiled cheekily at him as she mounted her dragon. "Probably something stupid."

Thuggory rolled his eyes. "Great, but your village has already done that by following Mogadon."

"Then something crazy," she replied, and with that the teens took off into the graying sky. More snow was coming soon, but by the time it fell, they would be halfway to the southern lands. Mogadon wouldn't stand a chance against the Hooligans.

They had dragons.

---

"Are you quite finished in here?"

"Mm," Hiccup merely hummed in response. He couldn't be bothered to form full sentences, not when he was so close to finishing this project. Toothless' new tailfin and riggings had been finished for days now. The nagging thought at the back of his mind that demanded he and Toothless return to Berk as soon as possible had been continually ignored until it progressively became smaller and quieter, at this point nearly disappearing altogether. The tailfin, their ticket back to the Isle, sat neglected in the corner behind Hiccup's workbench. Complacent, his mind barely registered that it was there anymore. Partially due to the new sketches and papers piling on top of it, but also because Hiccup simply didn't want to. Celebrating Samhain in the village with Regan and all these new people, people who didn't know him and didn't judge him, was wildly refreshing, almost as cleansing as flying.

But not quite. Thus, the fin again would accompany him back to the forest tonight. He and Toothless would soar over the inlet, undetectable by the village in the blackness of the night sky, before touching down again at the break of dawn. Then back to the corner the fin would go, to wait to be used the next day, whether it was to return to Berk or just to fly over the coasts of Ireland once again. No longer plagued by guilt, his happiness was too potent to even think of it, Hiccup didn't know if he could bring himself to turn north. The village could survive perfectly fine without him and Toothless. He could cherish this freedom for a little longer, a few more days at most, before returning. He at least deserved that.

"Quite frankly, humming does not provide much insight," Regan quipped, leaving her place in the doorway and entering the forge. "You'll have to use your words."

"Ner…" Hiccup mumbled again. His focus was intensely trained on the project in front of him. The epiphany Hiccup had had concerning his most recent schematics had finally taken physical form. The nearly finished product lay on the workbench in front of him, he only had a few more adjustments to make before he could show Toothless…

"I thought you already finished the tail?" Regan asked, peering at the contraption in front of Hiccup

"I did," he replied. "This is different. You see…"

"Yes, splendid, you can tell me all about it tomorrow during waking hours when all of the normal people are awake. Currently, they are asleep, as I ought to be. Which means I need you out of my forge."

"'Kay…" Hiccup mumbled without moving.

"Soon."

"I gotcha…"

"Now!" Regan all but picked Hiccup clean up off of his stool and pushed him out the door.

"Regan! Wait, I'm almost finished!" he pleaded, struggling to turn back as she steadily shoved him between the shoulder blades towards the forge exit, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Oh, you'll get another chance tomorrow, don't you worry," she stated firmly. Despite her blatant height disadvantage, standing nearly a head shorter than Hiccup, she had him out the door before he could even open his mouth to protest. Dumbfounded, he was so busy wondering how such a small person had managed to move him so quickly that he had to scramble to catch the tailfin when it was flung at him from inside the forge.

"'Night, Hiccup!"

Indignant, Hiccup considered leaving without bidding her goodnight as well. However, he caved "'Night, Regan," he called into the darkness of the forge. "You owe me an explanation tomorrow!" he demanded.

"No explanation necessary. It's sleep time."

"But I…"

"Oíche mhaith, Aileag!"

Hiccup took her use of Gaelic to effectively exile him to the forest for the time being, at least until daylight hours. Which, aside from being prevented from finishing his project, Hiccup did not mind in the least. Turning on his heel, he sprinted up the knoll towards the forest, tailfin in hand.

It did not take him long to find his dragon. Lately, they had been moving camp closer and closer to the edge of the wood; it was much easier for Hiccup to go into town in the mornings, and quite frankly he felt safe enough here to do so. When Toothless saw the boy and the tailfin that he carried, the dragon immediately perked up from his position curled up on the ground.

"Hey, bud," Hiccup greeted, smiling, "Up for a quick flight?"

Toothless all but wagged his tail in response. Hiccup laughed aloud. "That's what I thought," he said, moving to affix the tailfin and rigging to the dragon. He worked quickly, as jittery with excitement as Toothless was. "Toothless, you have to stop moving or we'll never get in the air!" Hiccup laughed. In response, Toothless became even more fidgety, all but jumping out of reach before Hiccup could buckle the saddle. Hiccup could have sworn the dragon laughed when one particularly speedy jump out of Hiccup's reach resulted in the boy falling face forward on the frosty ground.

"Ah," Hiccup smirked, raising his eyebrows. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" Toothless lowered himself to the ground, ready to spring away at a moment's notice, nearly sniggering with delight. "Alrighty then," Hiccup conceded, leaning back and dropping his arms to his sides.

For a moment the Nighty Fury's eyes questioned the boy, who appeared dejected rather than invigorated by what Toothless thought was an incredibly inventive game. As quickly as it came, the moment passed when Hiccup spun around, ready to pounce. "Game on!"

Hiccup proceeded to relentlessly chase the Night Fury around the campsite, brandishing the saddle as he went. Toothless continued to leap out of his reach with ease, dodging Hiccup's every attempt to pounce, foreseeing every sneak attack. As he chased, Hiccup made a mental note to never enter a serious game of tag with Toothless; the Night Fury was clearly a master. Finally, out of breath both from running and laughing until he was in stitches, Hiccup collapsed on his back, hugging the saddle to his chest. Toothless sidled over to him, folding his forepaws over the saddle and laying his head down. Hiccup chuckled at his delirious expression.

"Well someone looks very pleased with themselves,"

Toothless snorted in agreement, settling his head on the boy's stomach.

"I don't know if I'd rank beating a crippled human in a game of tag very high on my list of victories," Hiccup deadpanned. Toothless huffed at the boy; a victory was a victory, regardless of the circumstances. Hiccup rolled his eyes. Overly pleased with himself, as always; the dragon would never change. Solid, dependable. One of the many reasons Hiccup loved his best friend more than he could put into words. Sometimes, these things could only be expressed via impromptu games of tag.

"If you're quite finished gloating," Hiccup said, "we can go flying now if you'd like." Toothless opened his eyes from where they were closed in his expression of contentment. Once again alert, he eagerly licked Hiccup's face to show his approval of the proposed plan.

"Uggh, why Toothless, why?" Hiccup lamented as he struggled to free his arms to wipe the rancid dragon saliva off his face. Oblivious, Toothless rose to free the boy and moved to wait for him at the forest's edge as Hiccup picked himself up off the ground to finish preparing the saddle. Finally ready for flight, the pair bent low to the ground.

"Ready, bud?"

Toothless didn't even have to acknowledge the question. His answer resounded in the force with which they took off from the ground, the speed of the ascent, and the exhilaration they both felt being in the sky once again. Cloaked under the night sky, they banked to skim the Irish coast, too fast for anyone to even know they existed. They would be merely a phantasm, a dream, only the moon would know they were even there.

They were home.