Heir and Pride

Chapter Twenty Four

News of Hiccup's improvement swept through the village and the Hooligans responded as they usually did: with generosity. The village that had ignored, taunted, bullied, ostracised and finally cast out their saviour showered him with gifts. Stock found his door being knocked with pies, stew, promises of meals for the next month, salted fish ('to help the boy build up his strength, Odin save him'), tunics, leggings, winter furs, new boots ('sorry-boot'), fur mittens, bedding, daggers, swords, shields, carvings, bowls and-most touchingly-books from Fishlegs, the twins and Astrid.

Once Hiccup was out of imminent danger, Gobber measured his amputated leg against his good and set to work to create a prosthesis. Normally, Vikings lost limbs in battles with the dragons in adulthood and a simple peg leg was sufficient. But Hiccup was an active, scrawny boy who needed to ride his dragon. He needed a leg that would enable him to walk and run and ride again. And that needed every ounce of his knowledge, every day of Gobber's years as blacksmith to create something unique. And so he did, a standard wooden padded cup attached to a strong spring mechanism and an iron foot to support his body, a wider base to grant him secure purchase and ability to walk on all terrains.

But still Hiccup did not wake, even though his fever had broken over ten days earlier, even though his stump had healed miraculously (with Toothless's help) and his few remaining bruises were minor. They had dressed him in fresh tunic and leggings and cleaned his old, comfortable boot. Astrid and Stoick washed him daily and made sure he was fed water and broth but Toothless never left him. Finally, Astrid left to fly her dragon with the others and Stock stepped out for a moment to speak with the Elders.

"Watch him, Toothless," the Chief had charged him and the dragon nodded, his luminous green orbs locked on the boy. The door closed and Toothless peered at the boy. He smelled different. Hiccup's head arched back slightly and his lips parted slightly. He took a deeper breath and the dragon silently slid to the ground, then inched forward and nuzzled the boy's hand. Hiccup's eyes fluttered. Toothless nudged him again and his eyes slowly fluttered open, the confused green depths slowly focussing on the room. And the black head with the wide, excited green eyes facing him.

"Hey..." he breathed and focussed. His head felt stuffed with wool, his mouth was sandpaper dry and his back ached. He frowned: he was home. How had he got here? "Toothless," he murmured, turning to inspect his friend. Toothless was overjoyed and bounced on the boy. "Ow!" he grunted as the dragon landed on his half-healed ribs. Then he blinked. "I'm-I'm in my house!" he realised. Hadn't he been exiled? Then he frowned. Toothless was scrambling up to the rafters and grinning. "You're in my house!" he added in shock as Toothless bounced down and knocked over a pair of mugs (gifts from the Larssons). "Does-does my Dad know?" he asked in a confused voice. The dragon capered excitedly again and the boy threw the covers off the bed to stop the dragon destroying his father's home.

Why did he feel so weak?

And then stared at his lower half and froze. His right leg was as normal, his small furry boot curled inwards as usual but the other leg ended about six inches below the knee, the end of his leggings tucked up and revealing a wood and metal prosthesis.

He had lost his left foot.

He had lost his left foot!

Suddenly, he could barely breathe and he felt his pulse accelerate. He just stared: it hardly seemed fair. He was already so abnormal in the eyes of the village-small, weak, left-handed-and now one-legged. It would just make his life worse and no one would ever believe he could be a proper Viking. Ever.