Home-Bound: The Beginnings (HTTYD)

6 - The Notes

Stoick sat in Hiccup's room once again, wanting to remember every detail of his little boy. He was different, but Stoick adored it. His big smiles and mess of floppy red hair would make up for everything. But being so busy with Chief work, and feeling the difficult loss of a mother figure, Stoick pushed himself farther and farther away from his child. He would come home frustrated with the entire village and then take it out on his only son. He regretted every second of it.

A pang of guilt and sorrow tore at the poor Chief's heart whenever he saw Hiccup. He looked too much like his mother. Especially his eyes. Those eyes burned with a curiosity and mischievousness only Valka could have. Hiccup was very young, but his eyes betrayed him; the boy was much wiser than many of the full-grown Vikings on Berk.

With a deep sigh, the large man ruffled the messed-up sheets and froze when he heard a crumpling. Of paper.

Peeling the sheets back, Stoick felt his chest drop at the sight of two pieces of paper. One was addressed to him, the other to Gobber. He read the one with his name over the top.

'Dear Dad (Chief Stoick The Vast Of Berk),

I ran away. By the time you read this note, you've probably already figured that out. So! Umm... Where do I begin?

I never felt like I was actually your child. I wanted to be like you, I wanted to stand proudly by your side, but I never could. I felt like the only time you ever paid attention to me was when I succeeded or did something horribly wrong. I don't know why. It still baffles me to this day.

I can't kill a dragon, I know that much. And to prevent that from happening, I left. Don't bother trying to find me—I don't want to come back.'

Stoick's heart tore apart at that line. "I don't want to come back." He wanted his son here. He wanted him safe, and alive, and right next to him. But Hiccup has died in his quest to leave. Stoick had pushed his son away and in turn, his son had died. Oh gods.

'I did not leave because I hate you. Please don't ever think that. As I'm writing this letter now, I feel guilt coursing through me. I know you love me, and I love you too, but I am not the right heir. I am not a dragon killer. I am not a Viking. I am not a worthy son of yours. Astrid or Snotlout would be a better Chief/Chieftess.

I don't know how long it is before you find this message, but I hope it is a while. I need as much time to make my escape as possible.

I wish I could see you again, but I know I probably won't.

I'm sorry dad. I love you.

-HHHIII'

Stoick felt tears pool up in his eyes, and he didn't try to refrain any of the tears that slowly dripped down his cheek. He stood up and walked out of the house to give Gobber the letter. He didn't care that people saw him cry. So what? Let them see.

Let them see just how much he loved his own son.

He walked into the forge, where Gobber was busy hammering away at a sword.

"Gobber," the man said, but his voice was drowned out by the steady clang of hot metal on metal.

"Gobber!" He said again, a little louder.

"Stoick? What brings you here?"

The chief held out a piece of paper folded into thirds. "From Hiccup."

"Hiccup?" He took the paper in his hand and read it. Stoick turned to the doorway, making his way out to give the blacksmith some privacy.

'Dear Gobber,'

Gobber visibly gulped. That was Hiccup's writing, alright. It almost hurt too much to bear. How long had it been since Gobber had last seen his boy's chicken scratch?

'Thanks for being my second father. You taught me everything I know and encouraged me to keep learning. You may not have the best pep talks, and you can be violent sometimes, but I love you.

I am leaving because I feel like I don't fit in. All everyone ever told me was how un-vikingly I was. Except you. Well, yes, you told me how stubborn I was, and how idiotic some of my inventions were, but you raised me. I was used to it. I just wish my real father could protect me from everyone else.

I was just so sick of it. I wanted to tell you, I swear. But I was scared that making myself seem weak would drive you away, too. Just like everyone else.

You can tell Astrid that I liked her like you always teased you would.

Your socks aren't disappearing, Mildew eats them when you leave them out to dry.

The furnace in the forge needs a repair, the structure was weakened from the last dragon raid.

I left a couple blueprints with instructions in my workshop. I hope they'll be more of use if they're presented to the village by you instead of me.

I love you,
-HHHIII'

It broke Gobber's heart to read those words. It was just a piece of paper, yet it felt like Hiccup was there, talking to him. He knew how horrible Hiccup felt, but he didn't know he wanted to run away. Gobber let the painful tears slide down his face.

"Are you okay, Gobber?"

The man looked over to the door, where his best friend was still standing. He shook his head and handed the page over to Stoick, beckoning him to read it. He saw the pain and sorrow in his friend's face when he read the 'thanks for being my second father' part. Gobber also recognized the shock and guilt written over his complexion when he finished reading the page.

"No." He whispered. "This is all my fault."

"No, Stoick, this is none of your-"

"It's completely my fault, don't give me that bullshit, Gobber."

"Stoick," Gobber said, rushing to his friend's side. "It was his choice to leave. He wouldn't have if he didn't feel like it was for the best."

"Aye, but he wouldn't have wanted to leave if I paid more attention to him. I forced him to leave. He tried to run through the forest but got caught up with that Night Fury! I killed him..."

The tears continued to pour down Stoick's face like a waterfall.

"Oh, Hiccup. Please come back. Out of Valhalla, Hel, out of the gods-damned ground. Please."

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