“Oh Thor,” Hiccup muttered as he dug through the big wooden chest in his hut. “Oh gods, no.”
Slamming the lid, he sat down on it in frustration.
All his spare legs were gone, and he already knew who had taken them. He gave a growling huff as he studied the only prosthetic he still had, the one he was wearing.
Only a few minutes ago, he and Toothless had been surprised by a flock of spooked Night Terrors, and crash-landed right into his own hut. Only a few bruises were gained, but now Hiccup’s metal leg was bent so crooked that it didn’t fit into the stirrup of Toothless’ saddle, and neither of them could get anywhere.
Hobbling to the doorway with the Night Fury’s help, Hiccup flung the door up and shouted at the top of his voice. “Astrid!”
He only had to wait a few seconds before Stormfly came swooping up, Astrid leaping off her back onto the thick wooden platform.
“I thought you were just getting a spare leg,” she said, looking at his metal foot with an arched eyebrow. “What’s wrong now?”
“Every single one of them, gone,” Hiccup grumbled, hopping awkwardly to Stormfly. “Where are the twins?” He scrambled onto the Nadder’s back with some difficulty.
“Still out on patrol,” Astrid answered with a frown. “Or should be. I see the problem there.” She mounted in front of Hiccup.
“Stay here, bud.” Hiccup patted the black nose that reached up to nuzzle him. “We’ll be right back.”
Toothless sat back with a snort. Like I can go much of anywhere, his deadpan expression said.
With a pat from Astrid, Stormfly took to the air.
“They might be on the other side of the island,” Astrid said over her shoulder. “Ruff and Tuff have been obsessed with the holes left by the Whispering Death hatchlings from last week.”
Hiccup didn’t answer, too busy trying to keep Astrid’s windblown braid out of his eyes and mouth.
They soared over Dragon’s Edge, until Astrid extended an arm suddenly to point. “There. I thought so.”
A minute later, they landed near the beach, and Hiccup fell to the ground as he dismounted, forgetting his bent foot. He stood, wincing and rubbing his already bruised rear end.
Sure enough, there were Ruffnut and Tuffnut, standing crouched over something, with Snotlout sitting on a nearby log, fuming and muttering to himself. None of them even looked up as Hiccup hobbled quickly over to the twins, Astrid hurrying to support him.
“Ruff! Tuff!” Hiccup’s eyes grew wide as he saw all his spare legs in a pile. Every one of them was dented and broken. “What in Valhalla are you doing?!”
Just as he yelled, Tuffnut, a spare leg in his hands, swung it. Something went flying low across the stony ground, rolling right into a Whispering Death hole.
“Yes!” Tuffnut whooped, doing a chicken-like victory dance. He fist-bumped Ruffnut and whirled around to point finger guns at Snotlout. “And THAT, my young loser friend, is how you DO it!”
Snotlout snarled unintelligibly back at him, throwing a broken prosthetic to the ground and stomping on it.
“What? Do what?!” Hiccup flung his arms out, losing his balance. Astrid caught him.
Tuffnut turned as if only just noticing Hiccup and Astrid were there. “I’m not sure, we haven’t decided what to call it yet.” He tapped his chin with the spare leg thoughtfully. “I’m thinking Potato-Whack.”
“I thought we were gonna call it Football.” Ruffnut frowned.
“What?” Hiccup clutched at his head with one hand. “What are guys even doing? Give me that!” He snatched the leg from Tuff. It was the only one not bent out of shape yet. Sitting down, he replaced it.
“You were supposed to be patrolling, and you’re out here destroying all his spare legs?” Astrid took a turn yelling at them.
“We were patrolling!” Ruffnut shot back. “But we finished!”
“That’s no excuse for whatever you were doing here, and you didn’t report back!” Astrid fumed.
“We reported to Snotlout,” Tuffnut said carelessly. “And he liked the idea of our new game, so we’ve been teaching him to play. He’s having anger issues, though.”
He motioned to the pile of dented prosthetics.
To demonstrate, Snotlout threw one hard at a rock.
Hiccup and Astrid, both lost for words, facepalmed in unison.
“See, we’re just putting these Whispering Death holes to good use,” said Ruffnut, in a businesslike tone. “Entertainment is important, Hiccup. Even the toughest warriors and explorers need a break now and then. So we’ve created a fun but relaxing game that we can all enjoy, right here on our own island.”
Tuffnut took it up from there. “We’ve collected the roundest potatoes from Fishlegs’ potato garden, those are the balls. You have to hit them into a hole with a club, which is one of your spare legs, by the way, Hiccup, these work really great. Never break or anything, unless Snotlout gets ahold of them and loses it, as you can see.”
Here, Snotlout huffed in the background.
“We’re still working out the point system, and these clubs are kinda short, and if the holes were smaller it’d present a better challenge, but I seriously think we’re on the verge of a groundbreaking invention here!”
“Leg-breaking, more like!” Astrid interrupted. “You’ve ruined every single one of these! Hiccup can’t fly Toothless if they’re bent, you know that!”
“Sorry,” Tuffnut shrugged insincerely. “We tried sticks at first, but they just didn’t have the same shape and weight, and Snotlout broke them all too easily.”
Hiccup stood, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “Don’t let Snotlout play, then. He doesn’t seem to like it anyway.”
Snotlout grunted.
“We won’t.” Ruffnut rolled her eyes.
“And you won’t be playing any more of whatever this is today,” Hiccup scowled. “You have a whole pile of spare legs to help me fix. You too, Snotlout.”
All three troublemakers groaned, but they picked up the prosthetics, knowing the fun was over.
“Hiccup the party pooper,” Ruffnut muttered as she and her brother hopped on their dragon.
“I knew he’d come poop on our party,” Tuff added.
Hiccup ignored them, rolling his eyes as he got on Stormfly behind Astrid again.
“I know what we should call it,” said Snotlout, his sour look having dropped into disappointment. “Golf. That means club. The game uses clubs.”
“That’s a stupid name,” the twins said in unison.
“We’re calling it Football,” added Ruffnut, with stubborn finality.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Uggghhhh.”
Hiccup groaned, pulling the covers off himself at last and shivering as the cold hit him. He really did not want to get out of bed, but the roof of his hut was leaking and the dripping was about to drive him as crazy as Dagur. Also it was morning, and everyone else was probably up already.
As Hiccup reluctantly rose, stretching, Toothless lifted his head.
Finally up, sleepyhead? His expression said. I’ve been awake for hours.
“Yeah, right.” yawned his rider. “You could have fixed the roof for me, bud. That would have been nice.” He grinned, hopping down the stairs and grabbing a few tools from his desk.
Toothless grumbled loudly, but followed him down.
The Night Fury gave his rider a quick lift onto the roof of the hut. Hiccup yawned once more, looking around. Distant arguing, most likely that of Snotlout and Astrid, could be heard from the stables, but other than that, Dragon’s Edge was fairly quiet.
Then Hiccup saw what was on his roof.
Night Terrors on the other side of the island lifted their heads with squawks of surprise as his angry shout rang out.
“TUFFNUT!!!”
A mere moment later, the Nut by that name poked his head out of his door, yelling, “I didn’t do it!” in a very unconvincing way. Then he saw Hiccup, pointing angrily and stiffly down at the snow on his roof.
“Oh. That.” said Tuffnut, more quietly, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Yes, I did do that.”
“That would be pretty hard to deny.” Hiccup added sarcastically through clenched teeth, for there, in the snow, in fancy lettering and a suspicious yellow, was written the name of one Tuffnut Laverne Thorston.
Toothless took only a quick whiff of it before making a disgusted face and leaping off the roof.
Tuffnut stared at the still furiously pointing Hiccup, nodding slowly.
“Yeah, I should have done it in Ruff’s name.”

I propose that, as thanks should be given internationally and not only in the Land That Does Not Exist on the day of Thanksgiving, there should be a Viking version of this holiday.
Let me introduce to you:
Thorsgiving.
This tradition was established in the early days of Berk, by a Viking named Borgald. There was a famine on the island; little food was growing in the unusually harsher summer and pirates were threatening the trade route. (They were very rude pirates.) Berkians were beginning to despair and some considered packing up and leaving, until one day in harvest time, as Borgald was out studying his pathetic crops, a yak fell out of the sky. Unfortunately, it fell right on top of him and both man and yak suffered broken bones, but he was nonetheless delighted to find extra meat. Then it rained yaks, and when the shower was over, there were eleven all scattered about his field. He looked all about, but there was nothing to indicate where this phenomenon had come from, not even a yak cloud. (It was a pack of startled Changewings, but you can’t blame him for not seeing them.) He decided it was a generous gift from Thor himself. Now having far too much meat for himself, Borgald proceeded to share it with the rest of the village. (I’m afraid he was a bit more selfish in keeping the best bits to himself, but perhaps that can be forgiven under the circumstances.) The day after that, traders came flooding into the Archipelago, having defeated the pirates, and Berk at last got all they needed for the winter. To celebrate, they feasted and ate all the yaks, but they would never forget how Thor had gifted them with hope in the form of bovine rain. Borgald declared Thorsgiving an official holiday, (or the chief did, really, after a bit of threatening with a yak chop) and today it is celebrated by all Berk’s Vikings, with yaks, toasts of thanksgiving, and the annual bone-breaking contest. (Whoever has a broken limb by the end of the three days of feasting wins.)

It was a couple of hours after midnight, and Hiccup couldn’t sleep.
It was no wonder though, as Snotlout sat at his table across from him, fidgeting, muttering agitated prayers to the gods once in a while, and being a general nuisance. Hiccup sighed and glanced out the window of his chiefly hut – the moon was setting and he should be in bed. But then again, it was his duty as a chief and a loving friend to keep Snotlout company. He just wished the nervous guy could fidget a little more quietly; Zephyr was asleep upstairs, and if the curious three year old woke up, Hiccup would have even more on his hands.
Glancing fervently at the moon, Snotlout reached for the ale jug.
Hiccup quickly pushed it out of his reach. “Two mugs is enough for you, Snotlout.”
“I know,” grumped Snotlout, pushing his mug away from him and shifting his legs for the billionth time. “I just hate this waiting.”
“I understand.” Hiccup patted his arm briefly. “Don’t you think you should be there, showing your support? She’s your wife.”
“Astrid kicked me out!” Snotlout flung his arms in the air. “And Ruffnut clobbered me over the head with a yak femur!”
“Because you fainted and made a nuisance of yourself.” Hiccup couldn’t help snorting a laugh. “Calm down, Snotlout, Minden is perfectly healthy. She and the baby will be fine.”
“I know,” grunted Snotlout again, and rubbed his perpetually scruffy beard. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare tell anyone I fainted.”
“You did it in front of the girls, Snotlout.” Hiccup chuckled aloud this time. “All of New Berk will know about it by lunch tomorrow.”
Snotlout began to groan again, but whipped around as the front door opened. It was Astrid.
“It’s over, Snotlout. You’d better come now.”
She smiled, but Snotlout didn’t even bother to reply before dashing out the door, forgetting his cloak. He did remember to slam the door, however, and at the sound of a little voice Astrid wearily hurried up the stairs.
Snotlout flew into his hut, and the next few moments were a giddy whirl as he noticed the little bundle in Minden’s arms, the tired but brilliant smile on her face, and the tiny face that was soon cradled against his own chest. The midwife was hovering nearby; she apparently didn’t trust him with a baby.
Snotlout could think of no words. There were times when he’d thought he could never get this far - but now here he was, with a beautiful wife and a new, beautiful… he looked up.
“It’s a girl,” announced the midwife, as if knowing his question before he could even think it.
A new, beautiful daughter.
Snotlout grinned as she opened her eyes, blue as the clear summer sky. She was so delicate, so soft, that he was almost afraid he might hurt her even with his gentlest touch.
“She’s so… pink,” Snotlout managed to say at last, mirroring Minden’s smile. “And squishy.”
Minden laughed. It was a tired laugh, but healthy, and Snotlout felt all the tension melt away from his insides like snow. He blinked back stupid tears.
“Any ideas for names?” She asked. “I was thinking Silvera.”
“Oh.” Snotlout shrugged. “I like… Sharpknife. I had a great-uncle named Sharpknife.”
Hiccup and Astrid came in now, side by side, Zephyr in the latter’s arms.
“Say hello to your new friend, Zeph.” Astrid held her daughter up to where she could see the baby. Zephyr pushed aside her wild hair and stared.
“Congratulations, Minden.” Hiccup rubbed her shoulder gently, and patted Snotlout on the back. “And Snotlout.” He smiled, obviously enjoying seeing his old frenemy so happy.
Snotlout didn’t answer, and began to sway.
“Oh gods,” yelped Hiccup, knowing what was coming. “Catch him!” He snatched the baby, and just in time, as Snotlout fell with a house-rattling thud. A smile remained on his unconscious face, and Minden’s eyebrows shot up.
Zephyr shrieked with laughter, and everyone else couldn’t help joining in.