Bond of Two Lands

22. A Matter Of Delicacy

"Get yerselves together! Snotlout, those berries won't pick themselves. And Tuffnut, ya better get down from there immediately or I'll kick ya further than Odin himself can see ya with his all-seeing eye." Gobber glared at his sad troop, hook in hand.

"I need to be up here in order to keep watch of the castle", Tuffnut said, pretentious through and through, as he hung from the upper branches of a nearby pine tree. "I am after all the official spy among us."

Fishlegs stopped stroking Meatlug and frowned. "Who voted you that?"

"I did!" Ruffnut said. "And so did Stoik. It's amazing what you can get people to agree to if you follow them around long enough."

"No one will spy on anyone", Gobber said. "Having the entire Haddock clan among those Scots is bad enough at the moment. I will not risk any of ya muttonheads joining them."

Snotlout, who against his own will had started to pick the berries around the glade, suddenly stood up straight with an thoughtful expression upon his face. "What would happen if those barbarians down there actually killed Hiccup and Stoik? I mean, who would be next in line for the chiefdom?"

As everyone around him thereafter proceeded to give him disgusted looks, Snotlout felt the urge to defend himself. "Just to clarify: I do not hope that that will happen. Quite the contrary. Stoik and I are totally buds. It's just... haven't any of you thought about it?"

"We haven't", Gobber said, icy as the North Archipelago, "because they will return. I got an Airmail from Stoik only last night, when I was patrolling here. Couldn't read it due to the poor light, though..." He brought forward a roll of paper from Grump's saddle bag as he spoke. He started muttering aloud: "He says it is difficult to get a Terror around there. Apparently, they're trapping them. The king is far from hostile, though. And..." The blacksmith got mute very abruptly and stared at the words.

"Are they hurt?" Fishlegs asked, worry scorching his face.

Gobber had to sit down at a half-rotten log they'd pulled out of the woods. "I don't understand... he didn't say what that letter was for, but I'd never guess..."

"What freaking letter?" Snotlout hissed, grumpier by the minute.

"Stoik sent a letter before he went down there", Fishlegs remembered. "He made Skullcrusher drop it in an incoming boat, Gobber. What did it say?"

The oldest Viking of the lot seemed now considerably older than his years, his forehead folding into many a worried wrinkle. "Stoik has proposed to the princess of Dun Broch on behalf of Hiccup. And Hiccup has accepted... but she has not."

A moment's worth of silence followed the news. Then Ruffnut exclaimed: "So much for sneaking away to get married when the groom suddenly switches brides! I'll strangle that Hiccup-y moran next time I see him."

"Switch brides?" Fishlegs said.

"Au contraire, mon frere", Tuffnut snorted. "Let's take the short version. Hiccup and Astrid snuck away to be wed, but this princess deal has messed things up. Try to catch up, F."

"They wanted troops!" Snotlout cried.

Fishlegs tightened his fists. "Something must be wrong. Hiccup would never accept those terms if there wasn't something more to it. We must go to the castle."

"Five protesting Vikings bursting through the door shortly after the deal is done?" Gobber said. "Fergus would think it a set up and lock us all up. No, we need to await the Chief's orders. This was just an informative letter, not a request of assistance."

The Groncle's rider hung his head but nodded. What he didn't see was the Viking smiling slyly in the tree above him.

~~~~~

Fishlegs hated nightmares. They would always creep up on him when he was at his weakest, when they were captured or trapped or occupied (which happened pretty much every other week) and had a tendency to stalk his thoughts even during the day. He managed to cover it up quite good most of the time, but he knew that it without exception got worse if he was woken up during one of these dreams. Which unfortunately was the case right now.

"Fishface, wake up! We haven't got all night, sleepyhead!"

"What's-going-on?" Fishlegs mumbled, trying to sit up from his dragon's belly of a pillow.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were both leaning over him, rolling their eyes in the dark glade. "We're leaving for the castle. Wanna join in?"

"But Gobber said not to..."

"Gobber also uses his own ear wax to wax our saddles with", Ruffnut said. "Do we really trust that guy? I mean, really?"

Fishlegs still didn't look convinced. However, when Tuffnut whispered: "Come on. It's for Astrid." he couldn't keep hesitating. The threesome left looking for a boat like literal thieves in the night.

~~~~~

Every dinner at the throne room had turned into a power struggle. On the one hand, there was Hiccup, Fergus, Elinore and Stoik, desperately trying to make polite conversation. On the other, there was Merida and Astrid staring viciously at them without a word. The triplet princes formed a neutral part which really only desired cookies.

This night, the meal time had gone especially bad. Merida had broken her vow of silence and started shouting at her father with heart-aching desperation. The outburst had almost been enough for Hiccup to withdraw his acceptance of her hand. Almost.

But, as he'd said to Astrid, Berk had his precedence. Or perhaps that was was he was trying to tell himself. Truth was that he couldn't get her hurt look, her words of a future red-head of a Chief out of his mind. He lay in his bed and fidgeted with Inferno and felt agony with his acting. The acts of a Chief. No, the expected acts of a future Chief. But when had he ever lived by normality before?

He discovered that he pitied Merida more than he pitied himself. She would be snatched not only of her unmarried status, but also of her rightful title as future ruling Queen. He, Hiccup, would be her husband. He would be King. He couldn't in any way associate that prospect with himself. The only way he could justify his actions was that it would save Berk and The Edge from Viggo, Ryker and any other villain bold enough to confront them. And he would be nice to her. He would let her rule Dun Broch as she pleased and live wherever she liked with whomever she preferred. But it was just that - those two little words - that repelled him. Let her.

He had no desire whatsoever to be in charge of anyone else's will or destiny. Yet, the nature of his own destiny seemed to steer him relentlessly towards it. The situation was hopeless.

A rock that hit the window made him twitch out of surprise. This wasn't Berk. No dragon riders lived here. Despite this, though, he braced himself and closed in on the window. And there, way down outside the castle walls, he could detect three grey spots against the grass. Viking helmets.