Dark Valkyrie

Twenty-Five: A Simple Trade

Twenty Five: A Simple Trade

It always looked so simple when Hiccup did it. Fishlegs rolled his eyes in exasperation as his latest attempt to pick the lock of his cell ended in failure. The problem was that he wasn't terrible dexterous, for all his amazing dragon knowledge and sensitivity. Hiccup had tried to teach them, of course, because somehow, they always seemed to be getting captured by some bad guy or other and they all, without hesitation, locked them up in cells or cages with locks that Hiccup considered pretty basic. Of course, in addition to all his other talents-well, he was smart, handsome, sassy, generous, kind, forgiving and a great leader-Hiccup was also a blacksmith and mechanic and he had invented some locks and mechanisms that were far more complex. Fishlegs blinked. He had retroengineered a DragonEye, for Thor's sake! While he, Fishlegs, couldn't even get his chubby fingers to pick a simple lock!

He sat back and rolled the little lock pick that Hiccup had made him between his fingers. In had become a joke that when anyone referenced his weight, he protested he was husky. But he wasn't. He was fat, chubby, chunky, overfed, a proper Hooligan...call it what you would. He wasn't a fishbone, wasn't a lithe lean shape like his friends Astrid and Ruffnut and Tuffnut and, of course, Hiccup. Of course, Fishlegs had been as much a runt as Hiccup had when he was much younger but he had grown up (and out) at a much younger age and when the others had really set about bullying Hiccup, Fishlegs had joined in, for fear they would see through him and start on him instead.

But Hiccup had forgiven him, for he had apologised again-this time when Hiccup was very much awake, his emerald gaze thoughtful and understanding as the husky Rider had stumbled and dithered over the long overdue apology. And he had patted Fishlegs sympathetically on his shoulder and reminded him that he was only alive because Fishlegs had saved him. If any other Rider had been sent for 'bruise fruit', he would be dead. Only Fishlegs with his amazing botanical language could have recognised the plant from the fragmented remains of the wrecked bushes, realised that they were the Sentinels' Fruit from Vanaheim and made the long and dangerous journey on his own to get them just in time. That had more than made up for anything he had done in the past.

"And besides-who else would I have to geek out with about any new dragons?" Hiccup had asked him with a small smile.

That just said everything about his friend, deflecting apologies with a reminder of their friendship, their shared love of dragons and absolving his friend of any guilt. Smiling slightly, Fishlegs rolled his shoulders, still feeling the slight pull of his tattoo. They all had one, the symbol of the hunters surrounded by a circle with a single diagonal line through, showing they were no more. It was the exact size and placement of Hiccup's brand so they all had an identical mark-and only careful inspection could show that Hiccup's was a disguised brand, rather than a virgin tattoo.

"Hey-how's it going, Fishface?" Snotlout's arrogant voice floated from further down the line. Rolling his blue-green eyes, Fishlegs sighed.

"Slowly," he admitted.

"Hah! What's taking you so long?" the other rider asked him unsympathetically. A surge of irritation rose in Fishlegs's chest. He was sure that Astrid and the twins would have picked the lock and be long gone. But of course, he had to be stuck with Snotlout!

"Well-how are you doing then?" he asked irritably.

"I'm doing great!" Snotlout lied.

"Really? So why aren't you out then?" Fishlegs asked.

"Shut up, Fishface! Picking locks is Hiccup's job. He just makes it look easy!"

"Of course-because he knows how to make a lock so he understands the underlying mechanisms and workings..." Fishlegs replied.