Daggers and Daffodils

Grounded... Literally

I liiiiiiive!!! So, a "little" over 10 days, but hey, that's just how my brain works, I guess. I had to split this one because it would have been too long. I DON'T HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME Also, I can't believe I didn't realize the chapters on Wattpad have been out of order for who knows how long. So, I'd like to apologize for anyone who was confused by that (it has been fixed).
This is my first ever fanfic, but seeing as we've reached, I believe 5 years on it now, it's painful to reread it and see how many writing styles it's lived through. Maybe one day when its finished and my brain can handle it, I'll do rewrites and fixes.

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Being 'not grounded' was a lot less terrible than you had initially thought. Though you were pretty sure that was due to the fact that for once the group stayed on the edge for more than a week before Dagur or some other problem decided to ruin your day. Mind you there had been a few times that the others rushed someone towards you due to a dragon burn, fractured wrist or other injury. But in all fairness, it was comforting. It reminded you of being back on Berk, and taking care of your sick patients, but without all of the stress. Fishlegs in particular has been so sweet and considerate as far in helping take over smaller injuries.

As much as you wanted to get back out there with the others and Silver Tongue, the amount of care the others showed you was enough to keep you sane.

What wasn't keeping you sane however, was the egregious number of stairs plaguing the edge. As the resident 'doctor' of the edge you had hoped that you telling the others hiking a marathon to get to the clubhouse, with a history of concussions, was in no one's best interest, would have a little more weight.

"Ugh" you groaned. Damn it, why did you have to think of the word weight. Every step felt like lugging around a basket of Meatlug's quartzite. Luckly you were currently walking downhill, craving the sweet break you had so perfectly crafted.

You had to hand it to Fishlegs, his Zen Garden was without a doubt the most peaceful and quiet place on the edge. But your brain found it nearly impossible to relax in silence doing nothing. It just stung you wrong. Not being active.

"eugh" you shuddered at the thought. Yeah. Unnatural.

No. Your sanctuary was the small flat grass beds next to your hut that you had turned into a lovely little garden. Your perfect patch of land you had managed to sca-.... haggle, from Snotlout was perfect for this unwilling sentence you had been given.

It also had to be the best smelling place on the edge. Lush with lavender, thyme sprouts, and an assortment of flowers. Some of them were medicinal, but others were purely aesthetic. The daffodils were a personal favorite. Exclusive to early spring, but so bright and colorful.

Being the lowest elevated of the huts, you were just able to make out the sound of the waves breaking in the shore while you worked outside. As well as gifting you a superb view of the shoreline stretching around the island in a bowl shape. It also had the unwanted effect of being the farthest from the pens and the clubhouse. But hey, who was keeping track?

You....

It was always going to be you.

You flopped onto the large sunbathing body strewn about in your yard. "Can you get better faster? I think my feet are going to get abs at this rate". Silver Tongue let out a sour huff before he did a quick jolt, sending you and Scabbard rolling off.

You sighed, shifting to face the now turned away form of your dragon, "Not a morning guy huh?".

The gang took turns when it came to cooking, today was yours. Both Fishlegs and Hiccup had offered to take over for you while Silver Tongue was recovering, but that was the last thing you needed. Unfortunately, that did leave you getting up at ungodly hours just to walk to the clubhouse, cook, eat, and walk back down.