The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Thirteen: Lightning and Death Itself

Thirteen: Lightning and Death Itself

And then the creature opened its eye, the acid green globe fixing on his face. He paused, just for a moment because the sleek black dragon was nothing he had seen before...and in that second, he saw it.

Fear.

The creature was afraid. Bound, helpless, facing death with no hope of rescue.

Exactly how he had felt a few short hours earlier when the men had cornered him...and again when facing the dragon...

...but it had given him its trust, touching his hand and giving him a small noise before flying away...

...and sparing him.

He shook his head. No! This is your chance! Maybe your last chance. Don't screw it up, Hiccup. This is what you always wanted...

As if this would make the slightest difference. They would claim he found it dead. They would call him a coward and a liar and a disgrace. He would kill the dragon that no one had ever seen...and no one would believe him.

It's Useless, lying again. Remember when he claimed to have shot down a Night Fury before and it was just a gull? And he destroyed three houses in the process? And now he suddenly kills one on his own? Ha! He must have found it dead from a disease. Burn it before he kills us all!

He lowered the sword and covered his face with his hand.

"I did this," he moaned, shoulders slumped. He knew there was more to dragons than just mindless savagery. The Nadder had protected him from Svein. The Gronckles had been protecting an injured female. And he knew the Night Fury never raided, never took any food. He stole another look into the despondent eyes...

...and finally, with utter defeat, he saw himself.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I did this and it wasn't fair. I hurt you because I was desperate to be accepted...but the truth is-I will never be accepted. I'm not a Viking. I'm just a screw-up...a mistake...a Hiccup." And then he leaned forward and used the sword to slice through the entangling ropes before flinging it away and standing back, his eyes closed and empty hands held in front of his chest. He heard the dragon move, the swift snap of the remaining ropes, the leathery sound of it scrambling to its feet and turning on him. He heard a huff of breath, short and angry.

"Make it quick," he whispered.

The blow slammed into his middle, still bruised from Snotlout's attack and he went down with a thud, cracking his head against the rock behind him. His eyes snapped open in terror as the creature leaned right over him, pupils tightened to narrow slits and back arched in fury. Its mouth was open, ferocious teeth inches from his face and he could feel the intake of breath, expecting his death.

"Goodbye, Astrid," he murmured.

The roar hit him like a blow, his head reverberating and vision greying with the solid impact of sound. A hand desperately brushed its scaly face just for a second and the dragon stopped, pupils widening in shock. And then it pulled away, leaving the sprawled shape slumped against the rock. Head spinning and limbs feeling like jelly, Hiccup stared as the creature leapt into the air, flapped its wings twice...

...and then sagged to the left, vanishing behind another ridge.

And then everything went black.

oOo

He had no idea how much time had passed when he regained consciousness. His ears were still ringing and there was a faint buzzing audible. He blinked and looked at his hands in shock. He was still alive. Three times in one day! Boy, Thor really must have some plans for him! And then he realised his head was pounding, his neck was incredibly stiff from the horrible position he had been lying in and there were globlets of saliva sprayed all over him from the roar. He brushed his hand across it: sticky and very tenacious. And I bet that doesn't wash out, he thought randomly.