Generations: Broken Prophesy Story

Chapter 23

    With Nyota and Ruff-Tuff’s aid, bringing the supplies to Chaser’s campfire is a simple matter.  Now with all the Vikings gathered around the fire, Chaser once more broaches his question.  “Why are you all here?”

    Stoick looks up from his helping of shark, “I tol’ ya lad.  We’re here ta’ help get yur’ family back.”  Then with an out of place look of sheepishness, “Well tha’ and I kinda’ stole tha’ ship…”

    Mulch chimes in with a laugh in his voice, “I keep tellin’ ya’ Stoick.  Ya’ can’t steal what’s been freely givin’.  Bucket and I owe too much to the dragons ta’ just ignore them.”

    Bucket so enthusiastically nods he has to stop to re-adjust his namesake skull-covering.  Making sure the wooden bucket he wears atop his head is firmly in place he returns to nodding, “What Mulch said Chief…”

    Gobber flops onto the piece of driftwood Chaser had been sitting on, joining the boy beside the fire.  “Here ya go lad.  I had just enough time ta’ finish this fur’ ya.”  Reaching around his back, Gobber pulls the scrap of iron Chaser had worked into the fair approximation of a sword.  He had even taken the time to clean up the blade, set and wrap a hilt on it and sharpen the edge.  Taking the proffered hilt, Chaser looks at the sword carefully.  “It could use a bit more polish…  But…  It’s a fine first attempt.”  With a sniffle, Gobber wipes his nose on his sleeve before reaching into his boot.  “Here…  I thin’ you should have this…”  In his massive hand he holds out a slightly misshapen dagger.  The blade had been carefully reforged, and straightened.  “It was Hiccups…  The first blade he forged when he became my apprentice.”  Watching as Chaser takes the second blade, “I’ve been livin’ in tha’ past fur’ too long.  I’m gettin’ too old to be trapped there.  I need ta’ look to the future.”

    “I don’t know what to say…  Thank you Gobber.”

    Nyota nudges Chaser with her wingtip, a hint of mirth in her thoughts, ‘Now you have a claw.’

    Mulch draws a squeezebox from his pack, and after a few testing notes begins to play an old melody Chaser recognises.  Stoick stands up and takes Valka’s hand, “That’s our song Val.”  Chaser watches as his grandparents begin dancing around the fire, age doing nothing to slow the two.  Bucket quickly draws out his own flute and joins Mulch in the music-making.  After the first chorus, Nyota begins drumming her tail in time with the music, and even Gobber gets in on the fun, adding his voice to the song.  Stoick shoots his best friend a scathing look before relenting and laughing along with the evening merriment.

****

    The moon was high in the evening sky before each of the newcomers turned in for the evening.  Chaser settled in by snuggling against Nyota’s side.  Her warmth and steady breathing always seemed to help lul the former dragon to sleep.

    ‘I never knew two-legs had music.’  Nyota churrs.  ‘Is it common for groups to know the same soul-song?’  

    Chaser pauses to think, “I don’t think they have a true soul-song, but Grandma and Grandpa seem to always react like that to that song.”

    Nyota looks around at the odd gathering of figures.  The Vikings known as Grandma and Grandpa lie near the fire, the male wrapped protectively around his smaller mate.  With a silent grin she appreciates how she offers the same to her own mate.  On her otherside, and also near the fire are the odd cluster of figures, the ones Chaser introduced as Gobber, Bucket and Mulch.

‘Chaser?’ she quietly questions.  ‘Are those three mates?’

    About to deny it, Chaser stops for a moment to think about it.  In all his years on Berk, he had never known any of the three to be involved with any females of the village.  Bucket and Mulch had always scented of each other, but he had just brushed it off that they were close like siblings.  Gobber…  He was the variable in the equation Chaser had never thought much about.  But looking back, there were times when the old smith would come around smelling of seasalt and fish, scents he wouldn’t normally carry.  “I don’t know…  Does it matter?”