The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Forty Two: The Heir To Berk

42: The Heir to Berk.

The warning horn jerked everyone from their normal tasks and Astrid's head snapped up from her inspection of the junior weapons class, raising a hand to stop them in their battles before she sighed.

"Wait here," she commanded them. "And that means here, Brit-I'm still watching you!"

"Yes, Mrs Astrid," the female twin sighed, ignoring Odd-Knut's sniggering at her chagrin while Astrid slung her axe across her back and sped through the gates and up to the cliff edge to see the Meathead fleet rounding the Harbour Guards. She stared for a long moment, her fists clenching at the necessity of seeing Mogadon and Thuggory again and then she turned back to her class, seeing the patrol fly overhead and hearing Gustav whoop. Shaking her head and smiling, she returned to the younger class: there was plenty of time to finish before they would be ready to dock.

In fact, she realised she was running late as she broke up the twins fighting and sent Sven Elofsson and Bjorn Nilsson on five laps of the Plaza for whispering and giggling in class. Cursing under her breath, she sped up from the Arena, along the cliff walkway and down the ramp to the docks where the Meathead flagship was pulling in, lines flying to waiting hands, feet shuffling among the welcoming party and eyes flicking to the feisty blonde as she slid into place by the tall shape of Hiccup, his hand unconsciously sliding out to find hers. She glanced up with an apologetic expression, her cheeks flushed with the run and breathing calming consciously.

"Sorry," she murmured. "The twins were being a pest."

"Tell me about it," he murmured back ironically. "Must be something about that family." His emerald eyes twinkled and she glanced up to see the dragons all perched on the walkway just below the cliff top, with fresh singeing of the ramp by the pair of Zipplebacks. The patrol zoomed past against the blue sky, the banks of grey clouds highlighting the brilliant colours of Fanghook and Hookfang as they zoomed round to land by the other dragons. She swiped her bangs off her face and took a deep breath.

"You ready?" she asked him.

"Are you?" he shot back, his refusal to answer telling enough. She smiled and nodded, the familiar sensation of the silver around her finger reminding her that she was safe.

"You fought for me and won, remember?' she murmured. "I'm yours."

A pointed clearing of the throat from the huge flame-haired shape by them silenced the pair and they shared a look then had to try not to laugh. Gobber stood by him and Else was there, standing proud and silent as the chief's niece. Beyond her, Fishlegs and the Thorston twins were stationed as representatives of the Dragon Riders while the trusted warriors and Elders-Phlegma, Not-So-Silent-Sven, Hoark, Ack and Lars the Steady-were lined up behind them. The thud of the gangplank hitting the docks snapped their attention back to the stiff and stern shape of Mogadon, marching heavily onto the docks with the tall, handsome shape of Thuggory walking behind him, the Heir's handsome face twisted in a smug smile.

"Welcome, Chief Mogadon," Stoick boomed, his grey-green eyes twinkling with challenge. Mogadon scowled.

"Stoick, you old bastard-still not dead yet?" he grumbled. Sticking his thumbs into his belt, the Chief of Berk smiled.

"Alvin tried pretty hard-but no," he said easily. "Giant dragon failed, Alvin failed, Dagur failed..." He offered his hand. "I'm sure you have no ambitions in that direction." Mogadon's cold eyes drifted up to the shapes of the dragons, perched and watching the visitors.

"Hmm...looks like the rumours were true," he said coldly. "You've gone soft and have allied with the dragons." Stoick's eyes cooled as the other Chief clasped his hand and there was a brief but intense moment as both men squeezed as hard as they could and glared at one another.