The Dragon Master Part III: End of an era (A Httyd Fanfiction)

Chapter 17: Dragon killers

(Normal pov)

When Hiccup woke, groggy and sore and his back stung with pain, a friendly reminder that he was whipped for attacking one of the Cabals soldiers. Turning he was home after a bad dream. When he realised it was still dark and dank, his heart sank. The dragon with him huffed, her having woken him by nudging him with her head.

"Hey Scorch. Hope you got some sleep."

He crawled away from the warm scales to stretch his legs, having learnt the hard way his stump would protest more the longer he put off walking around on it. He felt weak and sick still, and cripplingly lonely. It seemed insane to think he had been in bed with his m, surrounded by their dragons and the boys sleeping like hatchlings nearby only a day ago. At least, he assumed it had been a day.

Feeling around on the floor, Hiccup found a pebble with a slightly sharp edge. He had already checked and found they had taken the dagger he kept in his boot for emergencies. He hoped they hadn't noticed it was made of Gronckle iron. Finding a flat-ish patch of rock on the wall, Hiccup scratched one tally line into it with the sharp pebble, feeling for the new indentation with his fingers.

Heavy footsteps came closer and Scorch began shuffling around, retreating as far back from the doorway as Hiccup slid to the ground to look as though he had only just woke up. The flood of light stung his eyes, but Hiccup managed to mask the worst with his hand and still get a look at the Cabal soldiers holding various sacks, barrels and a hefty pile of wood. Drago stood at the forefront, sneering at Scorch where the wounded dragon cowered in the corner.

"Before we go just handing this stuff over, you're going to explain what they are for."

"Whats the matter Drago? Don't trust me?"

"Trust is for fools. Explain yourself."

Hiccup pushed himself upright, acting slow and clumsy on his prosthetic foot and rubbing at his scruffy face, a couple of days stubble clouding his jawline.

"Wood. For fire, obviously. The bigger pieces and rope are to splint his wing or it won't heal right. Water and food should be fairly self explanatory. The herbs and plants are for different things. Some to settle her stomach, a few to stop the injuries getting infected. Menthol will help him breathing, and the rest are to help with his pain and sleep while he heals. You can stay and watch if you keep your hand to yourself."

Drago scowled, but indicated to the soldiers to give Hiccup what he asked for. Hiccup seperated the things out, checking they had gotten everything. He sprinkled a few herbs over a few fish, filled a bowl with water and walked over to Scorch slowly, placing them down before backing off so he felt less threatened.

Drago grew bored, apparently satisfied Hiccup wasn't lying as he started knotting the ropes to make the splint and then making his leave, slamming the cell door shut and the echo of the door locking was heard. Scorch finally began to eat and drink, helpfully lighting the torch Hiccup needed and gave him a confused look when he smeared water mixed with menthol over his snout.

"It'll help you breathe easier until you build up your muscles again. Try and walk around a little while I finish up, then we are going to start treating your injuries."

Hiccup kept up the monologue, cooking a fish over the torch to limit wastage of their firewood— Hiccup didn't know how often they would get visits— and feed himself, using a torn piece of his tunic to clean his own injuries and finally indulging his dire thirst with some water. In an emergency, they could extract water from the fish, though that often tasted terrible. The dragon took slow, dragging steps and Hiccup explained to Scorch that he couldn't eat too much at once yet, he had to work up to it.