Berk's Forumvine

“So these horses can be used in battle?” I asked, picking at my yak leg. Despite having been unconscious for a good amount of time, I had no appetite whatsoever.
Alvin, on the other hand, had plenty of appetite. He bit into his portion of meat, chewed for a bit, then answered. “That's right. Celts use them for everything: work, travel, lifting things, basically everything you'd use a dragon for. But without the flying, of course!”
“How many of them do you have?”
Alvin scratched a bit of his stubbly chin that wasn't covered by his huge beard. “I'd say about twenty or so in total. Why do you ask?”
“Would you be able to get any more?” I continued, ignoring his question.
“I'm sure I'd be able to pull a few strings in Pictland.” He chuckled. “It might take a few weeks, though, seen as we'd have to sail there and back, and it's quite a long distance away as you can imagine. What do you need them for?”
My heart dropped when I heard the time it would take, but I couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of going somewhere so far away and different from anywhere in the archipelago. “When's the soonest we can go?”
Alvin put down his yak leg. “You want to go there?” I nodded.
The man scratched his chin again and thought for a second. “Well, no one's really expecting to be leaving again so soon, so it might take a couple of days to get everything ready. But why do you want to go? What are you going to do with the horses?”
I smiled, my eyes shining. “I'm going to take back my island.”

After a couple of days, Alvin had prepared a small fleet of three ships. They didn't resemble any Viking longship I had seen previously, though: they were thicker and shorter and had a lot more storage space below the deck, presumably to hold the horses that we were going to get from Pictland. At the moment, however, the ships were filled with trade goods such as fur, leather and metal, the majority of which was Gronckle iron: Alvin had explained to me that it was worth a grand amount, as the Celts didn't have dragons of any kind. But above all else, the storage compartments of all three ships contained a huge load of long-lasting food, such as salted fish, mead and ale.
The next day, the ships were ready to be boarded.
“How long is the journey?” I asked as we stepped onto main ship, which was floating between the two others.
“If we're lucky, it should be about a week.”
My heart sank a little. “Will it really take that long?”
“It's further south than you've ever been, so don't be surprised.”
Despite the worry for my tribe in my mind, I couldn't help but feel excited about sailing this far. Even with Toothless, I had only stayed within a day or two of Berk, so travelling for a full week was a new experience to me.
Fortunately for us, the wind was strong that day and as soon as the sails were raised, we started moving at a good speed for a large trade ship. Soon, Alvin's island was nothing more than a black spot on the horizon.
I leaned against the side and sighed, but a determined look could be found in my eyes. Soon, we would be in Pictland, and the first step to claiming back Berk would be taken. I stared out to sea, thinking of my people. “Wait for me.”

On the nicest days, the sky was clear, the sun shined down on us and the sea was calm, and there was a decent amount of wind to send us towards our goal. Not at all days were like this, however: sometimes the wind was so harsh that we couldn't keep the sails up for fear of them being ripped away, and I swear that at some moments the ships were sent several meters above the waves below us.
For the first day or so, Thunderdrums and Sea Shockers followed us in hope of us dropping a few bits of food for them. But after a while they disappeared, and I noticed with an uneasy feeling that they weren't the only ones: the Terrible Terrors and Deadly Nadders that could occasionally be seen flying above us had also left our field of sight.
“Where did all the dragons go?” I asked Alvin hesitantly.
“We've gone out of their territory,” he answered. “You're in the outside world now, Hiccup.”
The number of dragons wasn't the only thing that had changed. The temperature had also gradually gone up, and even if it wasn't that hot, the fact that I had stayed in and around the archipelago my whole life meant that I wasn't used to it. Before I knew it I was starting to sweat, and I had to remove my fur coat.
It turned out that Alvin had been right: after a week of sailing, land could be seen on the horizon. Even from a distance I could see the green that covered it, which was different to the usual white snow that coated the Viking islands. As we got nearer, I noticed that there wasn't a dock or a village anywhere near us, which was probably because the Celts weren't used to sailing in this direction. This meant that we had to stop the ships away from the shore to avoid damaging the hulls, and lower down a couple of small rowboats. I took one with the help of a couple of sailors, and Alvin took the other.
We rowed closer to the beach in front of us and it took me a second to realise that the only sounds that I could hear were the waves, the birds and the splashing of our oars in the water. The fact that there wasn't a single dragon squawk to be heard from the cliffs, that could be seen peaking out from behind the trees, made me feel a little homesick.
Soon. I would be home soon. I had to remember that.
After another few minutes of rowing, we stepped out of the boats and waded to the sand, dragging them behind us and up the beach so that they weren't swept away by the tide. Suddenly, Alvin starting calling out in a language that I had never heard before. I looked at where he was waving towards and saw two men with their own rowboat, who were both holding fishing rods. They waved back and, after making sure their boat was safe from the tide, made their way towards us. They shook hands with Alvin and greeted him with a smile, so I knew that they were well acquainted despite not understanding a word that they were saying.
The fishermen led us through the woods and we reached a village, inhabited by people who greeted Alvin kindly. I looked around me, marvelling at the architecture, which was considerably different to back on Berk. I also noticed that the people living here were slightly more tanned than we were, most likely because they got more sun that we did.
We were led into a house that was larger than the rest, so I presumed that it was where the village's leader lived. We entered and I saw a man on a large wooden chair behind a desk, reading some papers that contained words from a different alphabet. He looked up when he heard us enter and smiled at Alvin.
“Alvin, mo chara!” The chief stood up, walked around his desk and hit the man's shoulder heartily. “Conas tá tú? Cad a thugann tú anseo arís?”
“Erland!” Alvin smiled back. “Táim togha. Is gá dom a iarraidh ort i dtús báire...”
I listened with great curiosity as they spoke, watching their mouths as they pronounced unfamiliar words. Occasionally Alvin gestured to me, and I politely smiled at the Celtic chief, not knowing how to respond. Fortunately he smiled back.
Once they had finished their conversation, the chief didn't look very happy. He scratched his chin, thinking about Alvin's proposition.
“Tá tú t-ádh go bhfuil tú le cara maith, Alvin,” he said. “Fine. Beidh mé a thabhairt duit capaill.”
I didn't understand a word of what he had said, but I assumed that he had agreed to trade with us. To my delight, we gained another twenty horses to bring back to the archipelago, which I was sure would be enough for what I wanted to do.
We spent the night in the Celtic village and set off the next morning, despite my urge to stay and explore this new land.
But something was gnawing at me. Even if we got back in time, which part of me doubted, we still had to find Drago, and we had no clue in Valhalla of where he was.
I prayed to Odin that this all hadn't been for nothing.