There she was. Ruffnut froze. Heather stood at the base of Stoick’s statue, happily talking to Hiccup and Astrid. Her face hadn’t changed a day, her hair was still tied in a pitch-black braid and she still wore her armoured clothing to protect her from harm. She smiled at something Astrid said and nodded. Ruffnut just remained where she was, behind the corner of a shed, hidden from sight. Heather was here, in New Berk. Of all things this day could have brought, it brought Heather. They hadn’t seen each other in forever. Hiccup had gone to see her before, so had Astrid. The others hadn’t, though Fishlegs had kept up writing her. Their lives had been too hectic, too much had to be done around the village to go see her. Ruffnut took a deep breath and turned around. She couldn’t deal with this. Not now.
It wasn’t necessarily Heather herself. If she’d come a month earlier or later, everything would have been fine. But now, this exact moment, was just days away from her own marriage to Fishlegs. Ruffnut figured she should be happy about that. Ecstatic, in fact. But the closer the big day came, the more worried she became. All her life, she hadn’t given much thought to marriage. It didn’t seem like something for her. Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined she would marry Fishlegs. Of all men! But little by little, she’d fallen in love... So had he. He was obvious about that. Fishlegs wore his heart on his sleeve permanently, sometimes to a maddening point. He told her continuously how much he adored her and wanted her to be his wife. Another thing that felt strange: she, Ruffnut, a wife?
As she made her way around the village, passing fellow New Berkians without so much as a greeting, her worry grew. Yes, Fishlegs was very open about his feelings. But she wasn’t. She knew that, naturally. It felt dangerous, she felt vulnerable and sometimes ridiculous expressing her thoughts. Occasionally Fishlegs tried to figure out how she felt about something, asking her directly and she’d shoot him a sharp retort or irony-driven, evasive answer. That was their status quo. That was the way their relationship was, and they had both taken this for granted. But she knew, she knew it hurt Fishlegs and he wanted her to ‘open up’. He’d proposed and she’d said yes, because she did oh so much love him, but she rarely expressed that, leaving him to guess.
She passed the Thorston household, but evaded it. In truth, she wanted to evade the whole village for a moment. She couldn’t, she had so much to do for the wedding. Would she get anything done right now, though? She shot a glance over the empty street. It was nearing time for dinner. She’d skip it. With a sharp turn to the right, she headed for the woods. Treading the path to the surrounding forest, she picked up her train of thought. She still wasn’t sure why he had proposed to her. Well, of course, because he loved her. He said that often enough. But maybe it was just because it was the next step in a relationship. Marriage was a part of every viking’s life, so it was a part of theirs. Maybe, and she feared this possibility, he’d only proposed because that was the natural order of things. It was expected of him. Had he actually wanted to?
She cursed her fear of expressing her feelings. It would be easy to go up to Fishlegs and just tell him of her doubt. They saw each other daily in preparation of the ceremony. But something in her simply could not. Her thoughts went back to Heather. Why had she come now, of all possible weeks, of all possible months? Ruffnut knew Fishlegs still had a thing for her. Maybe not romantic, but a strong friendship at least. It resembled, she mused, smoldering embers. Embers that could easily be rekindled, releasing a raging fire.
Ruffnut stopped dead in her tracks. Did she seriously just think Fishlegs would leave her for Heather days before their marriage? She looked around the forest. Leaves rustled in the wind, flowers grew between decaying wood. The moss beneath her feet sunk slightly under her weight. It was so peaceful. Her eyes teared up with an emotion she didn’t recognize. She just stood there, unable to think, only able to feel. A wild, uncontrolled worry in her unmoving frame. Fright-driven ideas started passing through her mind. Who’d want to marry me? Isn’t Heather kinder? Isn’t Astrid stronger? Aren’t there a thousand women out there smarter than me? She sunk to the ground, held her knees to her head and cried. Her breathing became uneven, tears stained the fabric of her pants dark. She remained there for a while, on the damp moss, the peak of emotion slowly fading.
She was still softly sniffing to herself when she heard cracking twigs. Someone was approaching
her from behind. She didn’t stir, though another sniff escaped her. The unnamed person behind her put a hand on her shoulder before quietly, softly speaking. ‘Hey,’ he said. It was Fishlegs. She cursed herself again as a fresh wave of emotion started pulling at her throat. ‘We were worried,’ he continued, sitting beside her in the moss. She remained unmovable. ‘You were missing when we were supposed to have dinner. Maybe a superfluous question, but are you okay? Why are you..’ he paused for reasons unbeknownst to her. Perhaps he thought she wanted to be alone. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be alone or not at that moment. ‘Why are you upset?’, he finished. ‘I...’ Her voice was still ragged from crying. She looked up at him at last.
There was true heartache in his expression, which startled her a bit. The release of her pent-up despair through crying made her feel much better and clearer of mind, pushing her to open up to him. ‘I’m worried about the marriage.’, she said, and she had thought some sort of reaction would follow from Fishlegs. Surprise, maybe confusion. Instead, he nodded and remained silent, inviting her to go on. ‘I’m worried you don’t fully want to marry me. That you do it because it is expected. I know I’m not usually very sappy-’ she smiled weakly at this, ‘and that you are. Maybe you want a wife that knows how to be... that. Open about her feelings. In touch with her emotions. A wife that is not, well, me.’ Fishlegs gave her an understanding look and was about to say something, when she looked back at her knees and added ‘Someone like Heather, maybe.’ Fishlegs’ expression did really change to confusion now. ‘Heather?’ He said, surprised. ‘Is that why you’re out here? Because Heather is in New Berk? I’m sorry, maybe I should have checked the guest list with you... I invited her for the wedding.’
Ruffnut looked up again. Fishlegs sighed. ‘I would never want anyone but you, Ruff.’ He put his hands around her waist and pulled her on his lap. She closed her eyes for a second, embracing the warmth and comfort of his body, as she leaned against his fur coat. ‘But,’ she opposed, ‘I’m not your perfect bride...’ He stroked her hair, tied in now messy braids. ‘Nobody’s perfect. Loving someone doesn’t mean you think they are perfect, anyway. It means loving them despite their flaws.’ She knew that. Of course she did. It was as old a saying as time itself. Never before, however, had she fully understood the truth of those words. There, on a patch of moss, held by Fishlegs, she did. Usually she’d regard such a situation as embarrassing. She was sure she would, tomorrow. Now all she knew was that she’d marry him, and she couldn’t be more excited.
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