How To Find A Hiccup

ACT III: War

Chapter 3
'Promise'


Stoick was nowhere to be found in the house. Hiccup decided he must have left. Probably couldn't stand the sound of my crying, he thought. Or he might just be ashamed. Hiccup shrugged that last idea off. Stoick seemed to understand now that Hiccup was, and never would be, a normal viking. He wasn't quite as good at hiding his emotions, unlike the other residents on Berk. But he was, however, just as stubborn. He could argue for hours about what he was feeling, but never accept what he is trying to hide.

The burly viking wasn't in the village, either. The whole place seemed abandoned. Some doors were still open in the huts of vikings. They creaked ever so often when the morning breeze hit them.

The sun was barely above the horizon, sending its rays stretching across the ocean. Berk's shadows stretched far and skinny as the sun slowly made its way up into the sky, making the island seem like it hadn't been occupied in years; to Hiccup, it just made the place seem a little more eery.

Hiccup craned his neck to look up at the large doors of the Mead Hall. Placing both hands firmly on the door, he pushed with all his might, the doors creaking, slowly opening in the process. No matter how big, or strong, you were, these huge oak doors wouldn't budge unless you put all your might into it. The thick oak doors only opened a little, but it was enough for him to slip passed them and into the Hall.

Warmth flooded over Hiccup as the hot and stuffy air flooded out of the Great Hall. Torches were lit and the huge fire pit in the center burned furiously. Hiccup was glad to note that his father was here, standing upon the big circular table that housed the fire pit in the middle. The whole island surrounded him. Hiccup guessed Stoick had called a meeting. He smiled, his father, it seemed, was on top of things already.

With a creak, the big doors slammed back into their place, shielding the inside from the bitter cold of the early morning. The noise alerted the village of his presence, which was unknown only because Stoick was sharing some... interesting... news that happened the other night. He also went on to explain just how severe the situation was.

It was safe to say that new information didn't sit quiet well with the village. The original fear of being bombarded by an unstoppable army of dragons had since vanquished since Scale was defeated; all of those fears came rushing back to the vikings, young and old. They got off lucky five years ago. If Hiccup hadn't been able to overcome his inner demon, then Berk would have ceased to exist, as would the archipelago. The thought of another ego maniac with an army of dragons started another uproar.

Fists were pumping in the air. Voices tried to top the others, trying to make themselves known to the chief. Stoick tried to calm the crowd, but seemed to be failing. He tried to tell them it wasn't impossible, that they would kill the enemy and thrive on once more. But the crowd was having none of that and Stoick was even doubting himself. It was almost a relief when Hiccup came in through the doors; the crowd quieted and turned their attention to him. Most wore scowls, the look of hatred plastered on their face. But some showed relief, for in their minds, Hiccup was their greatest weapon. He knew the enemy better than anyone and he was the one who could control the dragons. Surely he could help them better than anyone else.

Hiccup had dressed in his leather armor before leaving his father's house. His helmet was in his hands and duel swords forming and 'X' shape were strapped to his back. He took a step back when everyone turned to look at him. Cold stares were shot his way as he walked pass them, though some looks were softer and more welcoming; the vikings were on both sides of him as he made his way to where Stoick was.

His father gave him a sympathetic smile, though one could argue it was relief. He gave his son a pat on the back.

“What have we got so far?” Hiccup asked. Stoick sighed.

“Nothing, really,” he replied. Hiccup looked back over the crowd, who had since been quiet.

“Get them out of here,” Hiccup said. “Where's your council?” Stoick nodded. With an ear rattling bellow, Stoick ordered the tribe out of the Hall. It was a several minutes until they stopped their yammering and shuffled out of the Hall.

Hiccup shook his head at the turned backs of the villagers. They were scared half to death – though they wouldn't admit it – and it was all his fault. They hated him for it. If Hiccup was being honest with himself, which he was, he hated himself, too. He hated himself for everything that happened, for losing Toothless and Astrid and the other riders, for putting fear into the hearts of so many people. And now here he was, paying for what he had done. He shook his head once more.

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The council was gathered in a circle, sitting in ordinary chairs. The large fire pit burning in the center. All in all, there were 10 councilmen and none seemed to be happy that Hiccup was among them. Great, he thought.

“Alright,” Stoick began. “Let's get this going. Hiccup, we need to know anything and everything about Dane. If there is any weakness to his army, we need to know.” Hiccup shook his head.

“Dane's smart and, since he got his eye sight restored, I don't really know of his weakness, or if he has any.” One of the councilmen groaned.

“Everyone has a weakness!” He shouted. “You're not telling us! Why, I bet you're in league with him!”

“Enough, Meatlout!” Stoick shouted. Hiccup laughed on the inside. Meatlout. The viking in question sat back down with a huff. He folded his arms and looked away.

Stoick turned to Hiccup. “Son, he's right, though. Everyone has a weakness. If we find it than we might be able to exploit it.” Hiccup scratched just below his ear.

“Well, he's very sure of himself and he seems to hate my guts. Not really sure how that could be used against him,” he said. The part about Dane hating his guts cut deep within him. Hiccup looked down at his knees and blinked back a few tears. It was hard to be here and plot against his adoptive son.

Phlegma stood up. She had been recounted to the council shortly after the battle with Scale. “Well, Hiccup, can you at least tell us how big his army is?” Hiccup looked up at her, then over to Stoick. Maybe the chief didn't tell them all that was happening. He pointed to Stoick.

“He didn't tell you?” Hiccup asked. Phlegma sat back down and shook her head. Hiccup groaned inwardly. “He could probably sink the island if he wanted to.” Hiccup said it flatly and devoid of emotion.

A new type of silence fell on the council. A man Hiccup didn't know broke it.

“Well what do we do?” He asked quietly. Hiccup leaned back into his chair, thinking. After a few minutes in silence, there was only one way Hiccup could think of that they could do, but it only involved freeing the hostages.

There would have to be a small team made up of Berk's greatest fighters. They would infiltrate Dane’s small island atop the dragons Hiccup brought – which were camped out in the forest – and free the hostages. That seemed easier enough, but there was nothing stopping Dane from just tacking the offensive once he found out what had happened. No. They would need a way to immobilize Dane and his army.

He explained part of his plan the council, but didn't have an idea on how to stop Dane. Capturing him wasn't an option, he would be able to notify his dragon using the Line. Killing him would work, but he didn't tell the council that. There was no way Hiccup was killing his son. Dane could wage war on the gods, but Hiccup would deal with him and keep him alive.

The council and Hiccup threw some half-baked ideas around, but all were quickly shot down. The councilmen and Hiccup lost track of time, so when the meeting was adjourned and the Great Hall's doors opened, the sun had risen a substantial amount and Hiccup guessed it was around noon. The sun was much brighter than the torches that lit up the inside of the Hall. Hiccup had to shield his eyes with his hand for a moment until they adjusted.

His dad went back to his home and the other members dispersed out into the village. Hiccup guessed to their own homes. But he didn't know where to go. He decided he would just take a walk around the island and clear his head.

He walked passed vikings doing their daily duties, but Hiccup could tell the news had really gotten to them. They used to do their work with much more... what was the word... passion. And Hiccup hated to be the one who took it from them.

His wandering footsteps led him to Astrid's house; Phlegma was no doubt inside. He knew he should probably talk to her, but he really didn't want to. He could tell Phlegma was trying to be strong all throughout the meeting. It would break his heart again to see her teary-eyed. He heaved in a breath, and knocked.

A weak-looking woman opened the door. Hiccup almost didn't recognize her. Phlegma had tears still fresh on her cheeks, her eyes red from crying. Her expression was blank when she opened the door, but she managed a tiny smile when she saw Hiccup.

His heart twisted at the sight of the viking. He thought she would try to strangle him if they were alone, but perhaps he didn't give her enough credit. He knew her fairly well, but still hadn't spent much time with her.

Phlegma stepped aside, wanting Hiccup to come in. He nodded slightly as a response and stepped through the door frame. He took a seat close to the fire pit, though lacking of fire, heat still radiated from it. Hiccup guessed the fire had recently been put out.

Phlegma took her place in a seat opposite of him on the other side of the pit. Silence.

The woman was staring into the fire deprived pit. She heaved a sigh, turning her attention to her hands placed on her lap. Hiccup looked at Phlegma's face, her features were drooped and sorrowful. He looked away. Seeing her like that was hard for two reasons: one; she reminded him of Astrid and two; it was his fault for making her feel that way. He shook his head and, with a sigh, he said, “I'm a failure.”

Phlegma had been looking at him since he entered. She didn't say anything at first and the words seemed to hang in the air, haunting Hiccup. But she shook her head. “No. No you're not,” she said. Her tone was soft and quiet. Soothing, even.

Hiccup didn't believe her. “How so?” He asked. His voice as quiet as hers, but had a slight edge to it. Phlegma looked at her hands, her thumbs rubbing over one another.

“You've done your best,” she said. “You can't fail when you try your best.” Hiccup's eyes stared at the floor. He brought his prosthetic out a little further just to have something to study. “No one could have predicted this,” Phlegma continued.

Hiccup scratched his hand. “Dane lived with me for years. He was by my side the entire time... through everything. But... he still found a way.” Phlegma didn't say anything else. Hiccup doubted she knew what to say. But he couldn't blame her.

“Why aren't you furious with me?” Hiccup asked after several minutes.

“What do you mean?” Phlegma asked, looking up at him.

“About Astrid?” He choked on her name. Phlegma shook her head and went back to staring at the ashes in the fire pit.

“You couldn't have done anything,” she said. She gave a shaky sigh, trying not to cry. Hiccup nodded to himself.

“I'll get her back to you. I. Promise.” Phlegma looked back up at him. Hiccup's face was firm, his jawline set and his eyes determined. She knew he meant it and she knew he was going to try and get her back. Even if it meant going to hell and back.

The dam finally broke again and the tears came streaming down Phlegma's face. Before Hiccup knew it, Phlegma had him in a bone crushing hug; crying into his leather armor. He hugged her back. “I promise,” he whispered into her ear.

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-Yesterday-

“Finally!” Dane yelled as he hoped off his Skrill and stretched. He and Raden had landed on an island about 5 hours from Berk. It wasn't much to look at. Old, dead trees littered random areas. There was hardly any grass; most of the ground was rock. Moss made up most of the greenery. It could be found growing on the stone. It was slippery.

Astrid and the others were also on the island. The riders were still tied up and arrived a minute or two before Dane. Astrid was unconscious next to them, lying on the ground in a peaceful slumber.

“Everything's going according to plan, my friend,” Dane said, looking over his shoulder at Raden. He still clutched the crossbow.

“Are you done with me?” Raden asked. “Why shouldn't I just shoot you now?” Dane rolled his eyes.

“Nothing's stopping you. But when I die, I'll get separated from the Line permanently; the dragon holding your family hostage will be able to tell that I'm dead, and won't hesitate to kill.”

Raden looked at the ground. More and more dragons began showing up and landing on the island. Soon, there were hundreds and then there were thousands. The hostages' eyes darted back and forth, taking in all of the scaly beasts.

“How do you have so many dragons ? I though they held hostage the other parents of my group,” Raden asked. Dane shrugged.

“I needed more,” he said simply. “So I let the other parents and brothers and sisters go free. Yours are the only ones who will die if you screw up.”

Astrid began to stir.

“Tie her up,” Dane instructed Raden. The boy glared at him, but tied the girl up. The jostling of Raden pulling her up to sit beside the others woke Astrid completely. It took her a moment to understand what had happened, but the memories soon came back to her. Her eyes narrowed at Dane and Raden.

“Traitors,” she spat. Dane couldn't care less, but Raden was hurt deeply. The riders beside Astrid didn't acknowledge Dane, Raden or her, they just sat quietly.

“Am I done here, Dane? What else do you need from me?” Raden asked. Dane looked him in the eye, giving him a death glare. But he smiled.

“I'll make you a deal,” Dane said. He handed Raden his sword. “If you kill the fat one, I'll let you be on your way. I'll even give you a dragon to head back home. There, you'll see your family; unharmed and whole.”

Raden looked down at Fishlegs, Dane's sword in his hand. He fought himself. He wanted to do it, to save his family even if it meant killing Fishlegs. It was a stranger he didn't even know versus the people who raised him and housed him for years.

Raden raised the sword, a look of determination in his eyes. Fishlegs's eyes widened, would he really be killed? As Raden brought the sword down, the others screamed and Fishlegs closed his eyes, waiting for the sickening sound of steel cutting through flesh.

But it never came. Fishlegs opened his eyes slowly. The sword was an inch away from his throat. Raden tossed it on the ground. He sighed and turned back to Dane.

“I can't kill an innocent man,” he said quietly. Dane's expression was unreadable.

Without warning, Dane leaped forward and grabbed the top of Raden's head, grabbing a fist full of hair.
He yanked his head back and Raden screamed. Before the poor boy could do anything, Dane had a dagger raised in the air. He brought it down without a second thought, slamming it down onto the Raden's face. The weapon sliced through the eyeball, penetrating deep into the skull. Blood splattered on impact, some onto Danes face.

Raden shrieked in pain as the hostages watched on in horror, unable to look away.

Raden clawed at the dagger, but Dane held it in place. He twisted the dagger hard, back and forth, it making a sickening sloshing and grinding sound as it did so; Raden screamed impossibly louder.

“You can't. Be afraid. TO KILL!” Dane shouted as he ripped the dagger out and slammed it back in again. Raden fell onto the ground, his screeching made his throat raw and now was only a muffled choke. He tried to get Dane off him, but it was hopeless. His strength was gone.

Dane brought the dagger back up again only to slam it back down into Raden's skull. Blood splattered everywhere and was pooling beneath the two.

After a few more heartless stabs, Raden's body went limp and his heartbeat finally stopped... forever. Dane stabbed the dagger into the boy's chest and left it there, more blood escaping from the new wound. He was covered in blood.

Raden's face was smashed in on itself. Blood gushed out of the wounds along with other things that used to be inside Raden's head. The blood spread on the ground reaching the hostages' feet. It soon went farther up their bodies to the legs.

Fishlegs threw up, the others were traumatized. Dane looked at what he had done and shook his head. He mumbled something incoherent. But spoke up then.

“I'm going to go wash off,” he said. And left.