In Lieu Of A Tail

29. Astrid Leaves With More Questions Than She Arrives With

Astrid had many questions for the group that had arrived mere hours ago and yet caused such a commotion. She still wanted to know what had gone on in the last five years, and how Hiccup seemed to have gained so many allies and changed so much.

She was patrolling the village when she heard hammering coming from the forge. Odd, Gobber is usually in the Great Hall around now. She shrugged it off, he was probably busying himself so he didn't wonder about Hiccup. She changed her course and headed for the forge. Just as well, I've been meaning to get him to sharpen my axe.

Really, she should have guessed that it wasn't Gobber. The man never worked overtime – for anything, he insisted on taking his regular breaks, something about not overworking the only blacksmith the village had left after Hiccup had disappeared. Despite the obvious indicators, Astrid was astounded to be met with someone other than Gobber working in the forge.

She was even more surprised by the fact that the person in question was shirtless, and had their back to her. Their muscular, toned back. Astrid shook the thoughts away, feeling her face warm up a little at them. Her eyes raked over the bronzed skin as she attempted to compose herself – to ask whom the Hel are you and why are you in the forge – her vision caught on faded pale lines that criss-crossed it in unnaturally straight lines. Whip marks, her mind whispered.

She sucked in a breath in realisation.

He spun to face her, hand on his sword's sheath, meeting her azure gaze with a fierce viridian glare. His eyes softened once he registered that there was no attacker. His face became bashful and almost embarrassed as he reached his hand up to his hair, swiping it through and leaving his vision unobstructed.

"Oh, um, hey, Astrid, what're you doing here?" He looked so much like his clumsy, sweet, fifteen-year-old self then that Astrid wanted to weep for what she'd lost. She wanted to weep for what the boy before her had lost, and what they lost together. But she didn't, she held back the tears because he's here now and that's what matters.

"I was looking for Gobber?" She asked, despite knowing the answer, he was in the Great Hall, of course.

"Oh, um, he went to the Great Hall, I think? I can tell him you dropped by if you want?" Dear Gods he looks so worried, he's so cute when he's worried.

Choosing not to voice this, she elected to say something that didn't make her sound like a lovesick wolf cub.

"No, that's fine, it isn't urgent, I just thought I'd see if he had a moment to sharpen my axe." She gestured with the weapon, displaying the dullness of the blades.

"Oh, um, I can sharpen it for you if you want? It'll only take a few minutes."

"Sure, I mean, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all," his lips tilted up in a soft, crooked smile, I've missed that smile, it's as charming as ever, "let me see?"

"Here you go." She placed the handle into his outstretched hands.

He ran calloused fingers carefully over the blades, gauging how much sharpening they needed before he evaluated the rest of the weapon with practiced motions, his critical eyes noticing every imperfection and chip in the handle and grip as well as the metallic head. He pursed his lips, scrunching up his eyebrows as he scrutinised the handle, smirking when his eyes caught on a carving just below where the metal met wood. He produced a shiny nugget of silver metal from somewhere, then whistled.

The Night Fury's head appeared from deeper in the shop and- after some grumbling- he shot at the metal nugget, now on a granite worksurface, which turned red hot and became molten. Hiccup dipped both blades of the axe in the material and hammered it flat swiftly. Dousing it in the water bucket to his left, he took the weapon to the grindstone, using it to sharpen the blades again. When this process was complete he tugged the blade from the handle – having found it to be loose beforehand – and asked Toothless to shoot a small blast. The blast melted the inside of the blade enough that when he repositioned the handle and doused it again, the head was more firmly attached to its wooden handle.