For Milady

FORTY-ONE: The Return of the Heir

FORTY-ONE: The Return of the Heir

The Great Hall was packed with much of the village and pretty much all the warriors, the Elders gathered at the dais and facing their warriors. Hiccup paused at the doorway, trying to enter unnoticed and seeing the other Riders clustered by the Elders on the platform. But every eye was on the front as his Uncle was taking the lead, to the rapt attention of the assembled Hooligans and the Council which consisted of No-Long-Silent Sven, Mulch, Gobber, Gothi-as well as Heather and Cami, who had flown in overnight, promising aid from Bog.

"We need to strike now! We must attack Johann, Krogan and these Dragon Riders full force!" Spitelout urged, his voice rising through the Hall. His icy blue eyes swept over the assembled Hooligans and he clenched his fist for emphasis. "We MUST take the offensive. With the A-Team and new riders we can..."

"...barely make a dent," Astrid pointed out from the back, advancing to join the others. Sheathed in the shadows, with Toothless at his back, Hiccup held back, watching her stare coolly at the older Jorgensen. Spitelout was a typical Hooligan: quick to anger, eager for a fight and not a great thinker. In fact, Hiccup really hoped the tribe wouldn't follow the advice of a man who went down to the docks and hit himself over the head with a bludgeon for entertainment.

"Astrid is right," Fishlegs piped up. "These Fliers outnumber us and in many cases, can outmanoeuvre us!" Snotlout folded his arms.

"We can beat them-with the right strategy," he pointed out. Gobber rolled his eyes.

"And with the right leader!" he emphasised. "Listen-we can't just attack with Stoick in his condition!" Spitelout narrowed his eyes and flicked a meaningful glare at his son.

"Well, we can't very well wait either!" Spitelout shouted and he looked grimly at his son and then at the remains of the Council of Elders. "If Stoick can't perform his duties as Chief, someone needs to step in and do it for him!"

There was a loud murmuring as every Hooligan turned to his or her neighbour and began discussing the situation loudly and at top speed. Spitelout beckoned his son over and Snotlout's shoulders dropped. This was it-the hour he had dreaded and hoped to avoid. Longingly, his gaze trailed to the shadowed shapes of Hiccup and Toothless, hanging back and saying nothing and he cast a despairing look at Astrid. She shrugged and jerked her head, inviting him to step forward and speak for himself and he looked desperate, even as Cami sauntered forward and slid her arm through his,

"Time to step up, Snot," she encouraged him. "Look, I know you don't feel up to this-and you have had a really abbreviated learning period...but you've got your Dad and the Elders to support you and I'm sure you'll do fine! I mean, he flies a dragon as well, so he must understand...?" He shook his head.

"Dad's idea of fun is a 'hitting yourself over the head with a bludgeon' competition," he explained urgently. "He really has no clue what we are facing..."

"But you do," she pointed out.

"Meaning I know I'll get us all killed," he explained unselfconsciously. "Look, I really have no clue about planning or any of those of things...I'm just the heroic warrior type. I blow stuff up-and if that doesn't work, I set it on fire and blow it up again!" Her smile wavered.

"You have me," she pointed out as he looked into her blue eyes.

"Not all the time, do I?" he said with sudden insight. "Your loyalty is first and foremost to Bog. You're here to offer help...but should Bog come under attack, you'd bail in a heartbeat-and that just won't be good enough with these enemies. In fact, there is only one rider who is good enough to face them and have half a chance of winning..." He gestured to the dark corner and the lean shape, standing back by the unmistakeable shape of Toothless. Eyes widening, Cami stared at him.