People had demanded to return. But it had only been a few, generally the old farts who were far too tied down to old Berk to just up and leave with no hope of returning. Gobber had warned that such a thing would happen, but Hiccup was too depressed to think about that. He’d attempted to patch it up with “We’ll figure it out. For now, build huts, fortify ourselves in case we’re attacked. By weather or neighbors.”
So they built- and quickly. It was a distraction. Hiccup wasn’t the only one suffering from the loss of a friend, and any distraction from the memory was greatly welcomed. But the trouble arose again only two months after they’d “moved”.
Old Grissle slammed her beefy hand on Hiccup’s table. He jumped, the tankard in his hand almost bending under his tight grip. He swallowed and blinked, giving her a side glance.
“A Chief does not abandon his home. Berk was our home! Our castle- and your’s for that matter! We wish to return, this place will never be home.”
Hiccup swallowed thickly and looked to Astrid who sat at his side. She just smiled sadly.
He couldn’t return. And that was just a fact. Too many painful memories lay there. Were they bad, per se? No, in fact, that’s what made them so painful. Generally they were good memories, but the fact that what caused those memories to be so good- Thor, so good- was no longer there… it almost turned those happy gay memories dark. Shadowed. Like events from a bad dream that appeared happy, yet something in the back of your mind whispered that something very bad was about to happen.
It was hard enough living on the island where they’d actually said goodbye. Hiccup didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to go back to the place where they said hello.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He tried to plan his words carefully. “I’m very sorry Grissle- and you Jerod, Miche, Worm, Shard, all of you- I really am it’s just… I can’t go back. And I think I speak for others when I say that Berk- while it will always be our home- will never be the place we’ll live or thrive. It’s a memory.”
Worm’s head full of gnarly grey hair shook, as did the cane in his hand. “How can a Chief say such a thing-!?”
“I can’t go back.” Hiccup was hurting too much to care his voice cracked. He vaguely recognized Astrid’s hand on his arm. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“As am I.” Valka stated lowly.
“Coward. That’s what you all are. Cowards. Had Stoick been here, he’d knock some good old fashioned sense into your thick-headed skulls.” Grissle groused. She turned and stomped out of the half-built Hall, slamming the pine doors behind her. Everyone flinched at the sound they made, and Hiccup slid shakily into his chair.
“All of you…” He looked up warily. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. If my Dad was here, he would go back. I know he would. Maybe he was wiser than I, maybe he was tougher- hardened. No. I know he was. That’s what made him Stoick the Great. Well, then, call me Hiccup the Weak, because I’m never going back to Berk. I… I just can’t. Wait- never might be too strong a word. I may go back some day, but will I stay?” His voice trembled. “It’s not that I’m not strong enough to face what we left. I’m… I’m too weak to face what’s not there.”
He already imagined it. It would be so empty, so drab. The bright colors of the huts would mean nothing when they were empty and covered in dust. He imagined walking through dead streets that he’d never seen empty. He imagined walking to the remains of his charred hut; to the old Great Hall, where his father’s statue stood.
The cove, where he’d met his best friend. He shook, biting hard on his tongue to keep from crumbling to pieces in front of so many.
“If you wish to return, then by all means, you have my blessing to go. Take boats, take provisions. Take your children if they wish to accompany you. But I… your Chief will not.”
The room fell subject to heavy silence. Gobber looked down at his lap uncomfortably, his large broad shoulders hunched and his head bowed. Astrid squeezed Hiccup’s arm, and Valka cleared her throat.
A chair scraped the floor, and a bowed man stood, his old bones creaking. Leaning against the table, he peered out from beneath bushy eyebrows. “I’m a man of honor.” said Shard, a man of few words. When he spoke, everyone made a mind to listen. “As hard as it may be to die on a land that will never be mine, I follow my Chief, as was vowed of me at my Christening.”
Again, everyone fell silent. Slowly, one by one, the others stood. Some left the Hall, but some stayed, in silent agreement with Shard and his simple but truthful words.
“Thank you.” Hiccup said quietly. “I will try my best to be the Chief you need, and hopefully… this will be the start of a better Berk.”
He knew it would never be half as good as Berk. Berk was home, Berk was… Berk. He had no words to describe how hard it was to stay away from the only place he’d ever really called home. But as hard as it was to stay away, the harder it was to even think of returning.
Maybe. One day, when he was as old as the Vikings around him, he might feel the tethers of his homeland beckon him home. Maybe then the memories would be all he’d have left. Maybe, he’d be a stronger man.
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