renegades, httyd

xxv. Dagur's Deranged Plan

renegades
chapter twenty-five

"Don't let it get to yeh, lass."

I hefted up the crate of dragon scales I've been cleaning up around the forge. I passed by Gobber who was examining Winglash's teeth for me; just an annual check as I did my rounds in helping him and Stoick out here now that Hiccup and the others were off at the Edge.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sighed, setting the box onto the workshop. "I just wanted a birthday win, I suppose. It's been rough with them recently."

Gobber peered his entire head into Winglash's open maw, and his next words were muffled. "Always is, Estrid. You should hear the number of times I hear Stoick complain about leading. It's never easy."

"I know, I just ..." I sighed. I didn't want to admit it, I suppose. I said I was used to the others not being around anymore, but I still missed them; a lot. Everything about this was easier when they were here. The Berk Guard, the boys, the Academy. Whenever the boys annoyed me too much I had Astrid, Revna or Hiccup to explain things to and ask for help. At least with them here, I could know whether I was heading in the right direction. Now, I was basically on my own.

I passed Skullcrusher who was having a small break from chiefly duties in the forge. He was a magnificent creature of the new class Hiccup had discovered: the Tracker Class. A Rumblehorn, the blood-hound of all dragons, with glorious, shimmering green and red armoured scales and a stubborn head (quite like Stoick, I suppose). I gave him a scratch. Despite being so big and intimidating, he was also a great big softy. He purred in his sleep and I smiled a little.

Passing him I stepped into the trade side. The forge had gotten larger in the year past. So many places for so many different things. People were wanting saddles, their dragon's teeth checked up on, weapons sharpened and built ... so much.

"Aye━thirty-five? Have we got a thirty-five?"

I slipped near the trade-doors seeing the normal lineup per day. Everyone usually came by after the races━determined to have a racing saddle of their own. Stoick manned the trade doors today. He would be here for an hour before he and Skullcrusher would be off do continue the chiefly jobs. I usually took over at this time.

"Ooh! That's me!" My father, Malcolm came pushing to the front. He was tall, and very blonde; his beard braided down to his belly, as a Hofferson beard always should. "Ah! Look who it is!" I smiled and leaned over to give my father a kiss on the cheek.

"Aye," Stoick clapped a hand on my back as I stepped back. He was a seven-foot-tall giant of a Viking with a mane of bright-red locks and beard. But like his Rumblehorn, he was not as intimidating as he looked. I've gotten to know Hiccup's father quite well in the year gone, mainly because I helped him handle all the threats as apart of the Berk Guard, as well as everything with the Academy, and just being friends with Hiccup in general. "She did a good run in the race today. Shame you lost the sheep last moment, Estrid. Next time, eh?"