#poortoothless

[jayalaw]

How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror, Chapter Twelve

Gobber and I made a deal; in exchange for devising a Sleeping Soup that Toothless would swallow, he would tell me about my mother, Valhallarama the Great. Toothless didn't look amused.

[jayalaw]

How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror, Chapter Four

Dad stood in the door of our hut, drumming his foot. I stopped when he looked up.              "Hiccup. Come in." He ushered me inside and closed the door behind him.              "Dad, if this is about Mildew's roof, I've had dragon patrols checking it. We've kept the Gronkles and Terrible Terrors from roosting-"              He cut me off with a two-armed hug, lifting me off the ground. The wind in my lungs escaped to the safety of the hut.              "Thank Odin you're not hurt," he whispered fiercely. "I wouldn't say this in front of the others, but thank Odin. Alvin was boasting about how he had shot you down."              "Dad," I gasped, "I can't breathe."              He put me down. I took steady breaths.               "Tell me how Toothless got shot."              It was an abbreviated prologue to an epic tragedy. The fire flickered in the corner. Dad walked and poked the embers with his ax.               "It's worse than I thought," he said. "A great madness has fallen on the islands."              "Did you get any information out of the Outcasts?"              "Not until we beat it out of them; they didn't fear divine wrath. Alvin has been going from village to village with that Wanted poster, recruiting Vikings to capture you."              "What?" I stared at the vellum crumpled in my hand. "Why would a Viking ally with an Outcast?"              "Alvin doesn't say he's an Outcast," Dad remarked, "and when he can't pass for heroic, he has one of his smaller men go in. It's not dishonorable to challenge a Viking to a duel, to prove your strength, and Alvin's always had a gift of tongue. He can persuade them that three ships armed with catapults cannot meet the match of a Dragon Conqueror on a Night Fury." Bitterness colored his Scottish accent. "It's how he convinced your mother to go on her final quest and why I had him banished."              Silence settled between us. We never talked about Mom, even though she was a great Hero. She had died on a distant island, so there was no grave to visit or boat to honor.              "He already took her away, and I'm not letting him get you." Dad clenched his fists. "Until Toothless is better, I want you to stay in the village, in plain sight. Alvin's boat has been burned down, but he has allies with bigger boats. I don't want you wandering on your own into the woods while they're out there. The madness should fizzle out when they see our Dragon Army."              "Dad!" I exclaimed. "I haven't been by myself since I trained Toothless, and we know the woods better than our enemies."              "The problem is that enemies keep learning." Dad reached for a small wooden case. "I know dragons don't like weapons, so keep this concealed." He handed me a small blade.              I stared at the hunting knife. "Dad, I can't. I almost killed Toothless with a knife like that."              He closed my fingers around the sheathed blade. "It may make all the difference if an Outcast grabs you. Promise me you will carry this and use it when in danger."              Promise me. That was a loaded order, for I had made a promise to my dad once and spent my life with Gobber's bellows. It had taken years to break that oath, and ounces of willpower.               "I promise." I said with gritted teeth, "but when Toothless is better it stays in the house. I'm coming with you when the next wave of attacks hit. I can ride Stormfly with Astrid."              "No. You'll ride with me on Thornado. Alvin seems to have it in for Astrid as well." He clapped me on the shoulders. "For now, I want you to get some rest; you came back late from the Academy last night and you need your strength."               "Dad, I still have the morning chores-"              He gave me a stern look, one that clearly said not to cross him. "I'm not leaving the house until you are sound asleep. The others can surely handle the chores."              "Sure," I drawled, "Ruffnut and Tuffnut can handle the fertilizer squad and Snotlout will tussle with Astrid over who teaches the next Dragon Academy session. Mildew surely won't try to frame the dragons in the three hours I'm asleep."              "That's not going to work, Hiccup; Mildew would have to be really stupid to frame the dragons when we need them."              "That didn't stop him from doing it once."               "Upstairs. In. Bed."              There wasn't a choice; my dad stood in front of the door watching me. I backed up the stairs with a sullen glare. Kind of a shame that I missed the ax lying in the way and tripped on it; that ruined the effect. Dad started laughing, but it was small consolation.

[jayalaw]

How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror, Chapter Three

Dad's off-key singing seemed to curdle the air around us. Terrible Terrors squeaked in accompaniment. The larger dragons had fled to the Academy; good thing Toothless was locked inside.  Tuffnut and Ruffnut only took their fingers out of their ears to punch each other quickly. We approached the mead hall.              "This is awful," I said in a fascinated voice. My father could sing well, but he had even made an effort to abandon his heavy Scottish accent so that his voice came out as haunted and brooding.               "I'll say." Astrid winced, covering her scratch. "It scares Vikings because they fear Thor striking down the singer with lightning."              "Like any of us really believes that will happen," Snotlout scoffed. Dad then launched into Siegfried walking into the Ring of Fire to wake Brunhilde, screeching high notes. Snotlout covered his ears and shut his eyes tight.              "Odin forgive us, Odin forgive us, we mean no disrespect," Fishlegs was muttering under his breath. I rolled my eyes and marched closer to the mead hall, which was shaking with choir.              "Dad?" I called. The singing broke through Brunhilde's declaration of love. Then it stopped. Large hands opened the door.              "Hiccup!" My father towered over me.  He had a stern, anxious expression that darted to the bandage on my shoulder. "Where in Thor's name have you been? And what happened to your arm?"              I lifted it. "Astrid happened. An Outcast arrow hit the shoulder pad but not my actual shoulder."              Dad did not look amused. He took in the absence of an outer shirt and a sweaty face.              "Should we keep singing, Stoick?" A woman called from inside. "They don't come any close to breaking."              I reached down to pick up a Terrible Terror. It snapped but stayed put. Dad looked skeptical as I handed it to him.              "They really like music," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "They were outside screeching to the accompaniment. Maybe the Outcasts will talk."              A mischievous grin crossed his face. He gave the Terrible Terror an appraising look; it wriggled in his arms. "Not a bad idea, Hiccup. After all, what could strike more fear into the hearts of our enemies than our Dragon Trainer teaching dragons to sing?" He opened the door to bring the little dragon inside.               Before the wooden doors shut, I caught a glimpse of three men tied to chairs. Their skinniness struck me; few Outcasts lacked the bulk needed to take down my father. The men had the same rebellious spirit.              "That's your boy, isn't it, Stoick?" one of them called. "You'd be better locking a paltry treasure in your house than letting it wander."              There was a crack from inside; Dad must have punched the guy in the chin. My horrid fascination with the bad singing faded.              "Come on. I need to go to the Academy," I said, turning away. "We may as well see if Terrible Terrors can be trained to cry when Brunhilde kills Siegfried."              Astrid touched my arm. I flinched, but her gesture was affectionate this time. "We found a Wanted poster on the men," she said. "Your father was furious when he found it."              "Vikings? Reading?" I shook my head as we walked. "That's hard to believe."               "It had some pretty important information." She mimed holding a piece of paper and reading aloud. "'Who can conquer the Dragon Conqueror?'"               "Here it is," Fishlegs provided from within the folds of his shirt. "I saved it before Stoick could tear it up."              The paper was greasy and thick, a cheap vellum dampened by the sea breezes. It had an accurate likeness of my surprised face, painstakingly rendered in charcoal, and the slogan that Astrid had mentioned. There was also a drawing of a sheep and a basket of fish with runic numbers drawn beside them.                Fishlegs and the twins hung back, the twins being uncharacteristically quiet.               "Oh come on," I said, staring at the runes. "It's 'Dragon Trainer'. I TOLD Alvin it was Dragon Trainer."              "'Who Can Train a Dragon Trainer' doesn't sound as impressive to most Vikings," a new voice commented.               We jumped. Gobber was behind us; he must have run to catch up with us before we hit the Academy.               "How's Toothless?" I asked, turning around.               "Resting his injured body; we're going to try to feed him Sleeping Soup with fish bits so the wounds can heal."              I made a face; so did the others. Sleeping Soup was a bitter, sticky substance that more often than not ended in the outhouse than in your stomach. At least we had been given small doses; Toothless with his body weight would need a full tankard.              "Your father wants to see you, by the way," he told me. "Something about a Wanted poster."

[jayalaw]

How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror, Chapter Two

The bellows hummed like a dormant bear as I reached behind the tongs for the green tunic dangling on the wall. When I was littler, Gobber had taught me the first rule about making weapons: always have a spare outfit. His clothes were decked with burns and scorches from flying sparks, and mine had suffered no less.               The tunic was snug around the chest as I pulled it on; little threads were snapping. I made a face and kept pulling it over; it wouldn't budge. Must have been ages since I had left it on the hook, since the last dragon attack.               When I resurfaced with new clothes, Toothless was still moaning. His eyes stayed shut, although the lids twitched. Each Viking woman cut around a single arrowhead before teasing it out of the skin. They would then wipe down the area with a soaked cloth and Toothless would grunt. The surreal sight held me.              "You can gawk later." Gobber used his hook hand to hoist my shirt up. The sleeves tore. "Well, all for the best," he said, cutting a slit of shoulder off to examine the intact skin. "No flint for you, but you'll need yarrow. Doctor's orders."               The cloth made a wet slap as it hit my skin, but I did not flinch, although I made a face at him. A saccharine smell clung to the air.               The door banged open behind us. Four pairs of boots tromped in.               "We just took on five Outcast ships!" Snotlout burst out, striding in like a triumphant bull. "Guess whose dragon landed on one and set the whole thing on fire?"               "The same Viking whose dragon lit their trousers on fire," I commented.              Snotlout stopped swaggering. His pant bottoms were smoking slightly. He gave a sheepish smile and stumbled to the bucket where we cooled swords.              "It was a masterpiece," Tuffnut and Ruffnut said at the same time. They rubbed their fists and punched each other. "So much wood burning and you missed it."               "They've gotten more accurate catapults." Fishlegs was talking rapidly; his face was streaked with sweat. "Also lots of poison-tipped arrows; Meatlug got dizzy from all the spinning."              Astrid was pounding her fists on Spitelout, the older Viking carrying her. "For the last time, I'm perfectly fine! Put me down!" A chunk of her braid had been chopped off and there was a large scratch on her right cheek.               "Astrid! What happened?" I ran towards her and Spitelout.               "Alvin the Treacherous aimed most of the catapults at her and Stormfly," Fishlegs replied. Astrid shot him a death glare; he continued nervously. "He grabbed her by the hair and tried to pull her to the deck, but Storm snapped her away to safety."               Astrid gave a huffy roar. Fishlegs backed outside. Spitelout put her down and held her as Gobber rubbed the damp across the scratch. She winced as the yarrow juices did their work.              "Where's my father?" I asked, looking among them.               "Having fun with some Outcast prisoners," Snotlout answered from where he soaked in the bucket. "His dragon Thornado managed to pick up a few of the scrawny ones, so he's interrogating them to find out why they're attacking in the daytime."              "Yeah, you gotta see." Tuffnut and Ruffnut grabbed me by the shirt and ran outside. Astrid broke away from Gobber to punch me.              "OW! Astrid!"              "Do you have to fly Toothless by yourself every morning?" she gestured at my prone dragon. "None of us knew where you were! Your father was very worried!"              "Astrid, I was fine; it was Toothless-"              "You could've been killed and no one would have known!"              "We're Vikings; dying anonymously is an occupational hazard, Astrid."              She grabbed me by the front of my too-small shirt. "You promised you wouldn't scare me anymore."              "I promised no such thing, and I wasn't hurt."              "Don't tempt me to change that," she replied, pulling her free fist back.              Ruffnut and Tuffnut tried to pull me away.              "Guys, stop it!" I said. "It's going to-"              There was a loud ripping sound. Astrid pulled back with a large piece of cloth. Ruffnut and Tuffnut had my shirt sleeves.              "-tear," I finished.               "Eh, you're not the first Viking to go shirtless." Gobber approached us. He wrapped a strip of clean gauze around my bruised shoulder. "Good way to attract the ladies with a war wound, and to show your father you've been treated." He clapped me on the shoulder and made shooing gestures at the others. "Now all you get; we have a sick dragon to take care of. Go knock your heads together or something."              Ruffnut and Tuffnut led the way into the bright sunshine. The torchlight had made my gaze bleary, so it took time to adjust to the glare. A loud sound cut through the bustle and left everyone fleeing the scene. I listened.              "That's not my dad," I said in wonder. "My dad is not-"              "Singing the saga of Siegfried and Brunhilde off-key, in three-part harmony?" Fishlegs finished. "What better way to torment our godless enemies?"              "I can't listen to this," I said, but my feet kept moving to the source.               "No one can listen to it," Tuffnut supplied. "That's the point."

[jayalaw]

How to Protect a Dragon Conqueror, Chapter One

      Toothless's wings were not flapping as rapidly, and his large eyes drooped. I could tell from his abrupt, shallow breaths that the arrows lodged into his back were taking their toll. He kept flying since swimming back to Berk would have been an open invitation for Alvin.               "Only a few more minutes, bud," I urged on as we caught sight of Berk's familiar knolls and familiar faces. The younger kids brandished their small spears and helmets to indicate that they had seen us, donned in full miniature battle armor.               We crashed onto harsh grass. I ran my hand over Toothless's back and saw the iron arrowheads embedded in his skin.               "Hiccup!" Gobber lumbered forward on his metal foot; he had switched his prosthetic arm for a sharp hammer. "Thank Odin you showed up! The Outcasts attacked the north part of the island and-" he stopped. "What in Thor's name happened?"              "It's Toothless," I panted, rolling off my lethargic dragon. "Alvin the Treacherous- too many arrows- Toothless is hurt-" I gestured. "Where are Astrid and Fishlegs and the others?"              "Helping your father; there are four to five Outcast ships at the northern end." Gobber reached to spin me around. "Astrid's leading the Dragon Academy's finest against our worst enemies; they'll be fine without you and Toothless."              "There's another attack? But Alvin was attacking me from the east." I tried to wrest out of Gobber's blacksmith grip. "Gobber, you should be checking on the dragon with a hundred arrows sticking out of his back; I'm not injured."              "You call THIS not injured, Hiccup?"               He brandished a black arrow. I stared at it.              "But I didn't get hurt; Toothless protected me from . . ." I reached to touch my shoulder pads. The arrow must have pierced the thick leather but not broken through the skin.               Gobber brought the arrow close to his bright eyes. "Outcast design. Soaked in a poisoned toad's juices and left to roast over a fire. The toad's usually alive when he's speared; the Outcasts stay awake to hear its dying croaks."              "Eww!" The smaller Viking children said; they had gathered around us with trembling fascination. The bulkier boys pronounced their disgust with hidden glee. The smallest girl had her toy lamb wrapped around her neck like a coat. She sucked on the moth-eaten fur.               "I'm not saying it's a nice thing." Gobber tucked the arrow carefully behind his ear. "There's a reason why we leave the Berk toads alone; there are some depths that Vikings don't stoop to, no matter the cost."              I had to agree; Alvin would be the type of man to sit around a campfire, chugging bitter ale and laughing as a toad struggled on a spit, croaking feebly as its skin burned to black shrivel. My dad had his faults, but even as a dragon-slayer he would never kill a creature so that it lingered for miserable hours.               "Well, isn't that a nice sight?" a crackling voice jeered. Gobber turned to glare at the old man grinning at us from the top of the hill. "Our Dragon Conqueror can't keep his precious Toothless safe from mere Outcasts?"              "Shove it, Mildew," Gobber said, frowning at him. "Vikings get hurt just by being Vikings; the same can happen for dragons." He reached down with two hands to pick up my dragon; it was startling to see Toothless not even protest.              "Is he going to be okay?" I asked, running to keep up with Gobber's stride.               "Nothing a little Gobber medicine can't help," he answered cheerfully. Several of the women followed us, carrying baskets of leaves. The girl with the lamb stayed behind.               "What does Gobber medicine involve?" I asked between jogs. It wasn't that I didn't trust my dad's second-in-command; Gobber just liked to beat down problems with an iron ax or bellows. Those methods were useful when treating dragon teeth or forging swords, but not with medical emergencies.              "Oh, just pulling out every arrow and rubbing him down with yarrow." He explained, grunting under the black wings. "Standard treatment for Outcast arrow victims; we can do the same for Toothless and you."              "For me? Gobber, I didn't get hurt! Toothless-"              "Yeah, you told me; Toothless protected you from the worst of the shots. Get the door, will you?" I rammed the door open so that Gobber should move inside without disturbing Toothless. He laid my dragon on the table and spread his wings.               "We can't take any chances, Hiccup; toad poison can kill you if it goes untreated. Toothless would be dead by now if any arrow had hit his underside. You're going to need a new outfit for dragon riding."              "What? No!" I placed a protective hand to my shoulder pads. "Gobber, I can mend the hole; you taught me how to sew."              "Yeah, and I'm teaching you how to play doctor," he remarked dryly, taking a small surgical knife and marking incisions around the arrowheads. "We don't have to burn your clothes yet, but Stoick will have my heart for dinner if he finds you wearing them. You always keep a spare set in the smithy anyway; get dressed in those clothes and come so I can examine you."              He had a point there; I sighed, stripped off the shoulder pads and protective riding wear, and went to get the spare shirt. I heard Toothless moaning as Gobber and the Viking women worked to wriggle the arrowheads out of his thick hide.