The Imposter

Chapter 2

Astrid Hofferson, Princess of Berk, stared at the tall skinny shape in front of her through the hatch at the blacksmith's shop. It was not usual for the Heir to the throne to go and take her own weapon to be serviced but she was keen to get on with her morning practice and despite the objections of Mulch, her faithful retainer, she had taken the sword down to the forge herself-to find the hatch shuttered. But there was the sound of soft snores from within and Mulch had shouted and banged on the hatch until the slothful blacksmith's assistant dragged himself out of bed and opened the hatch.

What she had not been expecting was an unexpectedly cute young man, probably of her years with shaggy, tousled auburn hair framing a pale, sharp-jawed face dusted with occasional freckles and dominated by stunning emerald eyes. The apprentice was skinny, self-conscious looking and dressed in patched and very worn clothes. There was a nasty bruise on his left cheek and his eyes widened in sudden shock before he stumbled back a pace and gave a low bow.

"Now then, boy-can I get my sword sharpened some time today?" she asked sharply. Since she had been made the Heir, she wasn't used to waiting for anything and she thrust the sheathed sword forward brusquely. Emerald eyes flicked up and then he lowered his head respectfully.

"Of course. I would be honoured...Princess Astrid," he said. His voice was gentle and slightly nasal, his tone respectful. But he didn't move to take the weapon, frozen in his bow. She stared at him for another moment-and then she sighed.

"You can look up," she said in exasperation. "Gods, I didn't think anyone did that nowadays..." The young blacksmith's assistant looked up warily and blushed.

"Um...I think it's still the law, Highness," he mumbled, warily extending a hand and gently taking the sword from her grasp. He backed away, his face lowered and she inspected him closely. He was skinny, though he moved with confidence in the forge and when he drew the weapon, she was pleasantly surprised as his deft hands inspect the blade. "Highness, I can bring the weapon to you when it has been sharpened. I don't want you to have to stand waiting..." he said warily but she smiled and waved her hand at him.

"I can wait, boy," she said evenly. "I need the sword for my practice." He nodded silently and then took it to the grindstone and expertly honed the edge, then polished and resheathed the blade. He took a breath and then turned back, walking forward and offering the sheathed blade, hilt first to the Princess, his head bowed again. She smiled and took the sword, nodding. "Thank you," she said calmly and he nodded.

"Um, you're welcome, Highness," he said respectfully and she nodded, then turned away, striding away in the direction of the practice ring. Hiccup watched her recede and sagged in relief. She hadn't recognised him-but then why would she? They had last played together when they were ten, before... He sighed. Before the tragedy and Astrid's life had changed. And now he wasn't the son of the Knight Commander but an orphaned, disgraced menial, beneath the notice even of the cooks, let alone the ruling family. He scrubbed his face with his hands and made to pull the shutters closed-as another man walked up, brandishing a bent knife. With a sigh, Hiccup forced a smile onto his face and turned to the customer.

oOo

It was a couple of hours later when Gobber surfaced, thanked the lad for holding the fort and finally resumed working. Hiccup wearily headed back to the kitchens, wondering if maybe he could go into hiding because he was certain Oddvar would make him pay for his truancy...but he was starving and he knew he had to go fetch some food from the midday meal. But the level of noise dropped as he arrived at the kitchen door and he heard a bellow. His head snapped up as he saw Oddvar-a heavyset, middle-aged man with bulbous features and mean eyes-barrelling towards him, his staff raised. Hiccup backed away, arms raised to protect himself...and then he heard the clop of hooves and jungle of tack...and shouts.