The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Twenty Four: The Wrong Enemies

Twenty-Four: The wrong enemies

Hiccup stared up, emerald eyes wide and limbs held helpless by strong arms. His first almost-relieved thought-thank Thor, it's not Snotlout!-was rapidly replaced by the horrible realisation that his captors were, in fact, Outcasts. The men who were exiled from Berk and other Viking islands for the most heinous of crimes had occupied an especially inhospitable volcanic island not that far from Berk and their leader, Alvin 'the Treacherous' was an old foe of Stoick. As the Chief's son, he had endured lengthy diatribes against Outcasts in general and Alvin in particular and he knew there was a history between his father and the Outcast that meant the men loathed each other. And the one thing that repeated itself across his brain was Don't tell them you're Stoick's son!

Alvin the Treacherous leered at him, squinting at the skinny young man writhing in his men's grasps.

"Do I know yer?" he leered.

Yup. You met me when I was ten and even skinnier, smaller and more useless than I am now. Admittedly my hair was lighter and really straight then and I was a mess of freckles and frankly I probably only reached your waist so...I really hope the old Haddock family resemblance doesn't kick in...though I'm not huge and I don't have flaming red hair or a beard or my Dad's voice that you can hear almost from the next island...

"N-no?" Hiccup managed. "Are-are you Outcasts?" Alvin leaned closer and grinned mellowly.

"'Ow did yer guess?" he growled. "Is it the nose?"

"Um...why-why are you here?' the young man asked warily. It wasn't hard to play it anxious and his slight stammer did help the impression, especially as it was obvious that Alvin didn't recognise him.

"Shopping," Alvin laughed, gesturing to his men, who already had a half-dozen dead boars hanging from spits and a dead Gronckle as well. Unable to stop himself, Hiccup winced, seeing the gentle creature dead and feeling a shiver of dismay at the sight.

"Um...shopping?" Hiccup asked. "Doesn't that involve paying?" The fist that met his middle crushed the air from him and the impact on his recent wounds had hid vision greying and breath juddering in his throat. He sagged, his consciousness fading until the man holding him jerked him violently and the movement dragged him back to the imperfect present.

"Yer may 'ave a point," Alvin conceded, tapping his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Shopping does imply some form of remuneration. But..." His voice hardened. "Berk owes us far more than these few cuts of meat...and maybe a few slaves..." Hiccup's eyes widened in shock and he struggled against the grips on his arms. He shook his head vehemently.

"Oh no no no no no..." he muttered. "Please...I have something to live for now..." Alvin leaned close.

"So what can yer do, boy?" he sneered.

"I-I'm just an apprentice blacksmith..." he gabbled. "I'm less than nobody but I have a girl...please..." Please don't do this. Gods, what will Astrid do if I am taken to Outcast? What will Toothless?

"Perfick," Alvin gloated. "Is she 'ere? I'm sure she could keep somebody company on the trip back ter yer new home!" Taking a shuddering breath, Hiccup lifted his chin, staring defiantly into the cold dark eyes of the Outcast. Dusk was falling through the forest and he hoped the shadows would conceal Astrid and the others.

"She's away," he told his captor. "You missed her." A huge hand closed around his neck and he gulped as Alvin leaned close.

"Then I'm gonna 'ave ter make do with yer, boy!" he sneered. "Take 'im ter the ship!"

oOo

"If anyone stands in my way, I'm going to axe them into a dozen pieces!" Astrid snarled, facing the others. Fishlegs and Yaklegs shared a look before the older brother stood forward.