Chapter Text
The storm came seemingly out of nowhere, which Hiccup knows, logically, isn’t the truth. They were flying, and of course, he saw the dark clouds gathering. But he hadn’t paid the kind of attention that he perhaps should have. The riders had split up a bit, scattering so they could cover more water and search for dragon hunter ships.
Ever since the attack on Dragon’s Edge two weeks ago, the dragon hunters have kept their distance. It doesn’t feel like as much of a victory as it should, because Hiccup knows that their operations haven’t stopped. They’re still out there, still hunting dragons, still caging them as though it’s nothing. And that means Hiccup can’t stop, he can never stop.
The storm comes, the winds fierce, the rain overwhelming, the lightning blinding, and the thunder deafening. Cursing to himself, Hiccup realizes that he’s lost sight of the others. They can turn back to the Edge and hope that the rest of the riders did the same. It’s their best chance. Perhaps he should have listened this morning when Fishlegs warned him that the weather might not be ideal.
“Okay, bud,” Hiccup calls over the sounds of the storm all around them. “We’d better head back.” Toothless roars in agreement, wings flapping as he banks sharply, turning back the way they came.
Hiccup clings to him, body low against the dragon’s as they push through the wind and sheets of rain. It’s not the first time they’ve been in a storm, nor will it be the last. The lightning hits them abruptly, arcing down and striking Toothless’ tail fin. He howls, the sound pained, and Hiccup’s heart lurches on the dragon’s behalf – and his own as well. Gods, that hurt.
“We go low,” he says, strained. “Not too low.” He glances back frantically, checking that the fin is still flyable. It’s smoking, but it’s soaked from the rain, so at least it’s not burning. He thinks it’ll hold together, hopefully at least long enough to get to shelter. “Gotta find shelter. Can you find us something, bud?”
Toothless obligingly opens his mouth, the purple-tinted blast echoing forth. His ears prick forward as he listens to whatever is being fed back to him. He growls, tossing his head as he turns back to peer at Hiccup. Found something.
“Good work.” Hiccup pats his neck. “Take us there.” His prosthetic foot shifts automatically to adjust the flap as they careen sideways. The fabric is torn, the wind tearing at it further, and Hiccup prays to all the gods that might be listening that it holds long enough for them to get to shore. If they go down now, they might drown, and he can’t – he can’t –
He refuses to lose Toothless in such a way.
The island appears in front of them. It’s small and unremarkable, and Hiccup feels the tight fist of fear loosen its grip. It’s fine. They’re fine now. They’re –
The second bolt of lightning takes them right out of the sky. Toothless’ shriek mingles with his own scream, their bodies spasming from the shock, and they crash. To his credit, Toothless is trying his best to keep them from smashing straight into the forest canopy at a speed that will undoubtedly get Hiccup seriously injured. He’s flapping, wings jerking erratically, but they’re still falling, and Hiccup is thrown from the saddle when they hit the branches.
He yelps, trying to catch himself on something, anything as the branches tear at him, the pain he feels dwarfed by the burning in his shocked nerves and the rush of adrenaline and stubborn refusal to die like this. He hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and somewhere in there, he passes out, unconsciousness rising to take him.
Odin, he hurts.
The acute pain is the first thing that Hiccup registers as he opens his eyes. He twitches, flexing his fingers and then toes to make sure that his limbs are still connected to him – well, the rest of them anyway. Everything responds the way it should, and he groans, pushing himself upright. He’s soaked from the rain and covered with mud from the forest floor – and some pine needles from the fall. And –
Oh.
He stares down numbly at the blood that’s slowly dripping from his upper right arm. It’s not deep, not excessively so, not enough that he needs to worry about passing out from blood loss, but it hurts, and it especially hurts now that he knows to hone in on the pain. The wound is long and jagged, nearly the length of his hand, the fabric around it torn. A branch must have caught it on the way down, but he didn’t even notice.
It’s not his immediate concern anyway. It hurts, but he’ll be fine. He’s had worse. “Toothless!” he calls, voice nearly breaking as he shifts, pushing to his feet. His muscles tremble from the effort, a residual spasm from the lightning racing through him. It doesn’t stop him. Nothing will, not until he gets to Toothless and finds somewhere safe to wait out the storm.
“Toothless!”
For a few panicked moments, Hiccup thinks that he lost him and will never find him out here. Reality returns quickly, however, and he begins to look around, taking in his surroundings and cataloguing everything with the kind of precision and focus that comes from years of knowing when and how to best disappear on Berk when someone might be angry at him for something. It’s a skill that he perfected during the war against the Berserkers, and it’s a skill that has come in handy many, many times in their fight against the dragon hunters.
It doesn’t take long for Hiccup to spot the telltale signs of Toothless’ crash. Branches are broken, and there’s a furrow in the ground from where he skidded to a stop. Hiccup runs to himself without a second thought, hand settling instinctively on the night fury’s head. “Toothless. Hey, bud, can you hear me?”
The dragon makes a strangled sort of whine as his bright green eyes blink open. He seems as stunned and shaken as Hiccup himself. Hiccup looks him over, hands running carefully over smooth scales as he checks for any obvious injuries. None, other than the tail fin which is shredded and bent. Great. That’s going to take some time to fix. Something else they’ll have to do before they can leave the island.
Overhead, the storm continues to rage, rain falling down all around them in sheets.
“C’mon, bud,” Hiccup says, urging Toothless to his feet. “We’d better find shelter and get a fire going to warm up. Then…” he trails off, grimacing at the damaged mechanism. “Then, I can figure out what to do about your tail.”
Toothless warbles, butting his head affectionately against Hiccup’s chest. Sounds good to me. But then, he stills, sniffing the air. He tilts his head, muzzle carefully nudging against Hiccup’s right arm. His eyes are wide and worried.
“I know, Toothless, I know,” Hiccup answers. “It’s just a little scratch. Nothing you need to worry about. I’m fine!”
He is not, of course, actually fine. The wound is throbbing fiercely, and it’s still bleeding. It’s hardly going to incapacitate him, but it is going to make it a little tricker to do the kind of nimble repair work that he needs to do in order to fix the tailfin. Something to worry about later.
“We gotta find shelter. There must be something around here.” Hiccup looks around, searching for signs, for something, but everything looks the same. Just trees and trees and more trees. “What do you think, Toothless?”
The dragon considers the question carefully, tilting his head this way and that before he looks back to Hiccup. A quiet yet determined growl. Follow me. Or perhaps I can sense something. He shakes himself a bit, wings shifting as he folds them back properly.
Hiccup takes a breath. “Alright,” he says. “Lead the way.”
Toothless moves through the trees with a certain, quiet confidence. He keeps nudging at Hiccup’s side, making sure that he’s not faltering too badly. The shock from the crash is starting to set in, and Hiccup can feel the chill of the air and the rain soaking into his bones. His stump aches, each step sending agony coursing up his leg. His leg nearly buckles from under him more than once, but he doesn’t stop moving. He keeps his left arm on Toothless, the right pressed close to his body as he keeps it as still as he can.
Up ahead, the trees give way to something mountainous. Carved into the side of the mountain, Hiccup can see a hut of some type. There’s smoke drifting upward from the chimney, meaning that someone is there. He hesitates, unsure. They don’t even know who this person is. Can they really trust a stranger?
And yet, do they have another choice?
Toothless nudges him again, more insistent, a worried whine escaping from his throat. You need help.
“I’m fine,” Hiccup mutters, even though he knows that’s not true. He might… pass out sometime soon. Maybe. It’s taking a lot of willpower to stay on his feet as is. He feels light-headed. Yet he knows that Toothless will protect him. If the people are hostile, then they’ll go elsewhere. Mountains mean caves. They’ll find something.
With another insistent shove, Toothless guides Hiccup toward the entrance. He walks toward it, gait slightly unsteady as he knocks on the door. There’s no answer at first, not even after a second knock, so Hiccup hesitantly tries the door. It slides open easily, and he feels the creeping sense of relief at having found shelter. The cabin is small, a lit fireplace on the far side of the room and another doorway leading to a second room. It’s not, Hiccup realizes, too unlike the huts they have back on the Edge.
It’s good to be out of the rain, and Hiccup hesitantly walks further into the dwelling, Toothless padding along behind him. Toothless senses the shift first, and his soft, warning snarl makes Hiccup startle. “Bud, what–?”
The words die in his throat when he sees the man who is now standing in the doorway to the next room. His hands come up to show he’s unharmed, every gesture slow and somehow, despite the stranger and the dragon in his home, unafraid. “You need shelter from the storm.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Hiccup silently curses his state for not having sensed the man sooner. He’s better than this.
“Y-yeah,” he answers. “Sorry for just–” He waves vaguely. “Coming in unannounced. I knocked, but I didn’t hear anything, so I thought that maybe… well. Yeah.” He trails off with a sheepish shrug, forcing himself to stop his nervous rambling.
“It’s fine,” the stranger answers, his dark eyes intent and focused. “You’re safe here.” He takes a few steps closer, and Toothless outright growls at the man. His mouth is opened, the telltale glow of plasma lighting it up.
“Woah, Toothless!” Hiccup’s grabs at him, as though he might somehow be able to physically pull the dragon back and stop him from attacking. He hisses at the sudden move, wincing at the pain that lances down his arm. Warm blood seeps out onto his skin, soaking into his already soaked clothes. “Sorry about Toothless; it’s been a rough few… weeks. He’s on edge.” We both are, he doesn’t add.
The man doesn’t seem afraid. His expression is almost… fascinated. “A night fury.” The words are almost reverent. “I heard they were all extinct.”
Hiccup tenses, uncomfortable and equally unsure how to react to that. But the man takes the choice from him, his gaze snapping back to Hiccup, cool and assessing. “You’re injured,” he notes. “Sit.”
Toothless doesn’t seem happy, a quiet whine in the back of his throat betraying his displeasure. I don’t like him.
Hiccup pets him, the gesture meant to soothe him just as much as the dragon. “Yeah, I know, bud, but it’s fine.”
The dragon grumbles at that, but he relaxes his posture so he’s no longer about to shoot the stranger in the room. Hiccup takes the proffered seat, gratefully sinking down onto the wooden chair in the corner. The cabin is lived in, but not overly so. It feels less like a home, and more like a stopping place of some sort. There’s no table, for example. Instead, there’s a crate next to the chair, a few more piled on the other side of the room. An empty bowl lies on the makeshift crate, recently used. He can’t see what the next room looks like.
Toothless remains tense, stretching on the floor near Hiccup, his ears back against his head as his eyes follow the man’s every move.
“My name is Trygve,” the man says. “I’m a trader by profession, mostly along the northern routes. This island is one of my stops. It has a protected cove, a good place to wait out storms such as this one.”
Hiccup nods, relaxing a bit as the man speaks, watching as he goes to one of the crates on the far side of the room and begins rummaging around inside of it. “Your arm is wounded. If you allow me, I can help you bandage it.”
Hiccup hesitates at the words. Allowing the man, Trygve, close to him is a risk, and it’s not one that he’s sure he should allow. Once, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but time has made him wary. He knows little of the world outside of Berk and the archipelago. The hunters roam the seas out here, and they’ve been attacked time and again. It’s been – gods, it’s only been two weeks since they attacked the Edge. If Hiccup hadn’t gotten there when he did, he’s scared of what he might have flown back into.
Astrid, Tuffnut, Ruffnut.
It was so close, too close.
Toothless growls, sensing Hiccup’s unease and reacting to it, warning Trygve to stay away from them.
“I mean you no harm,” he replies, staring steadily at Hiccup. A pause. “You are the one who came to my home. If I wanted to strike, I wouldn’t have announced my presence first.”
Hiccup sighs, the last of the fight draining from his body. “I can handle it myself.” He can’t, and they both know it.
Trygve gives him a look, patient, careful, yet not pitying. “You seem to be on the verge of collapse. I have experience with treating injuries. Perhaps you might like to make yourself more comfortable and dry off a little?”
It’s an unsubtle proposition that Hiccup immediately sees for what it is. To treat the wound properly, he’ll have to remove his flight suit – which will mean removing his bracers and the shoulder armor he has on. And it’s true. He is wet. Getting dry is preferable.
His wound is still stinging.
Hiccup gives the trader a wary glance, silently assessing before he gives in to the inevitable. Theoretically, he could just leave it. Hope that it’s not too dirty. Hope that it doesn’t tear open and bleed every time he moves wrong. It’s not that deep, not enough for it to be considered urgent. It won’t kill him.
But it could get infected if he doesn’t clean it properly, and he can’t clean it on his own. That’s a fact. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be stuck here, and even when the storm ends, he has to rebuild a makeshift tailfin for Toothless. They’ll never get back home otherwise.
Slowly, Hiccup begins to unfasten his bracers. He sets them on the floor, one after another, and then begins to remove the shoulder armor. Getting the flight suit off is going to be hard, because it’s leather and not very flexible when he has an injured arm that he’s trying not to jar too badly. Nothing that can be done about that, though.
It helps that Trygve isn’t watching him, at least not obviously. He’s pulling out some medical supplies from the crate, setting them down with a careful precision, and Hiccup bites back the question of how often the man has to do things like this. He seems so certain. The only rider who moves like that is Fishlegs because he did some basic training with Gothi before they came to the Edge – not to mention whatever he learned from all of his research.
Hiccup’s breath catches, a strangled gasp of pain escaping as he gets the flight suit off. The leather will need to be cleaned and repaired but that, at least, is something which can wait. His wool shirt is torn, and Hiccup gingerly probes at the torn, bloodied cloth, peering at the wound beneath. He lifts his head when he hears movement on the other side of the cabin. Trygve is approaching him slowly, eyes flickering between Hiccup and Toothless, who is watching the man’s every movement with a wary sort of caution that betrays he does not trust this trader next to his rider for even a moment.
Hiccup appreciates the sentiment. Toothless’ eyes on them is the one thing that doesn’t make him flinch away when the stranger kneels on the floor next to him. He studies the injury for a heartbeat. “I assume you were hit by a branch when you crashed,” he says in a tone that’s only half inquiry. “You’re fortunate it didn’t go into your arm.”
“Yeah,” Hiccup mutters, shifting to allow the man better access to the injury.
“I’ll need to get a clearer look,” Trygve tells him. He’s pulling up Hiccup’s sleeve before he so much as has a chance to protest.
Hiccup’s breath catches in his lungs, and he forces himself to stay relaxed so he doesn’t give anything away – well, anything more than he already has, and he prays to whatever gods might be listening that the man won’t see his scars and know where they came from. Trygve doesn’t hesitate, but Hiccup sees his eyes flick down to the scars that cover his forearm, and shame curls within him. He’s always been careful not to let anyone see, ever, to never let anyone know how weak and useless he truly was. Maybe even is.
The man doesn’t recoil. He doesn’t look horrified or pitying. He just… looks. What might be understanding flashes through his eyes, but then, his gaze refocuses on the wound, and he says nothing. He acts as though he never even noticed, and Hiccup – Hiccup doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know how to feel at the knowledge that the first person who saw his scars and might know what caused them isn’t someone he even knows.
Trygve explains what he’s doing as he works. His hands are steady, his touch gentle, his movements rehearsed as though he’s done this many times. It’s almost comforting, and there is a part of Hiccup that foolishly selfishly wants that comfort… yet there’s something in his eyes that makes Hiccup wary. He can’t place what it is. Maybe it’s the alertness that the man possesses. He’s clever, obviously so. He’s not afraid of Toothless like most would be.
And most of all, he knows Hiccup’s secret.
Even if he’s not acknowledging it, the truth lies there between them, impossible to deny.
Toothless snarls a bit when Hiccup hisses at the sting from the wound being cleaned. Trygve glances at the night fury for only a moment. He’s aware of the threat, but not afraid of it. Hiccup can’t make sense of it.
“Your dragon is very protective of you,” Trygve notes.
Hiccup nods. “We’ve gone through a lot together. We always have each other’s backs.” It’s a subtle warning. He might be injured, but he’s not helpless.
The man inclines his head. “It’s admirable, truly. What took you out into such a storm? I imagine flying would be perilous.”
Hiccup scowls a bit at the words, and Trygve wraps a bandage around his arm. “Dragon hunters,” he replies bitterly. “Attacked us not long ago.”
“And you’re planning to strike back.” Not a question, not quite. Just a matter-of-fact statement.
Hiccup turns away, fingers curling into a fist as he stares at the fire. “What else can we do?” he asks, and he sounds exhausted, just as run down as he feels. “They won’t stop. Neither can we. They’re– they’re hunting dragons. We can’t… stop.”
Trygve makes a sound of acknowledgment that somehow manages to seem disapproving as he gathers his remaining supplies and moves across the cabin to put them away. “The dragon hunters have limitless resources. You’ll never stop them. Their entire economy is built on the trade of dragons. Without that… they’ll starve.”
Hiccup hesitates. “How do you know that?” he questions slowly, pulling his sleeve back down to cover his forearm, the scars hidden away, out of sight and out of mind.
Trygve smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “My boy, I’m a trader in these parts. I know how the dragon hunters operate.”
“You work with them?” The words are too sharp, Hiccup knows, but he can’t take them back.
The man gives him a look. “I work with everyone. The dragon hunters are some of my clients, yes. I don’t think you realize how well-known you are among them, Hiccup.”
He freezes, and Toothless tenses next to him, a warning growl escaping from his throat. Without looking, Hiccup reaches out, petting the dragon’s head and silently telling him not to kill the mysterious stranger who just helped him. “You know my name.”
“Of course. All the hunters know of Hiccup Haddock, the leader of the dragon riders who has a night fury. And the hunters talk if you know where to listen.”
There is no threat in Trygve’s words, no implicit desire to harm him. He seems just as relaxed as he did at the start. No anger. No – no anything. Hiccup sucks in a breath and tries to get his heartrate to slow down. “Okay,” he offers finally, because his mind is whirling too fast for him to keep track of it all, and he isn’t about to start rambling to this helpful stranger who had no reason to help him but did. “Why did you help me? If you know– if you know who I am–”
“Because you came here, and you needed help,” Trygve interrupts, not letting him finish what would have undoubtedly turned into a bunch of nonsensical words strung together that pretend to be a sentence. “I’m not heartless. You’re safe here, Hiccup. No harm will come to you– or your dragon.”
Hiccup glances at Toothless, tilting his head in a silent what do you think, bud? The night fury grumbles quietly, slowly settling back down, head on his paws though his eyes remain alert. I guess he’s okay. Sometimes, he wishes that he could know, for sure, what Toothless is trying to tell him. It’s easy to guess, to fill in the noises with words, but it’s not the same as speaking. But he supposes the understanding they share is enough.
“The storm won’t let up until morning,” Trygve tells him. “Get some rest. It won’t be safe for you to fly in these conditions.”
Hiccup’s eyes dart involuntarily toward Toothless’ tail, the mechanism mangled and in need of repair. He makes a face. “Might take a little longer than that to fix his tail,” he replies. “I might– I might need to borrow supplies or something.”
He should have brought a spare. Why didn’t he bring a spare? He moves from the chair, crouching on the floor next to the mechanism and fiddling with it a bit, trying to see what he can salvage and what will have to be hastily thrown together. It’s not as though there’s a forge anywhere near.
“You only need ask,” Trygve answers, and Hiccup nods distractedly, mind already far away as he works out the puzzle in front of him. The trader isn’t a threat, and Hiccup would be stupid to let down his guard entirely, but Toothless is watching his back. That means he can allow himself to focus on something else, something other than the trader who works with the dragon hunters.
The man’s words still echo in his mind.
The dragon hunters have limitless resources. You’ll never stop them. Their entire economy is built on the trade of dragons. Without that… they’ll starve.
If he thinks about it, he’ll spiral. He’ll panic as he faces a grim reality that does not end with them all winning and going home. They can’t afford to stop, not when so many dragons will suffer if they do. And if the hunters can’t be stopped… Hiccup doesn’t know what that will mean. They never meant to start another war. They only came out here to find Dagur and take him back to Outcast Island where he could be locked away and not cause further problems. But now… now, they’re tangled up in something so much bigger than themselves. This isn’t something that Hiccup knows how to fix easily. He can build a thousand complex gadgets, and none of them will be enough.
They’ll have to fight, they’ll have to kill, and Hiccup doesn’t know how to face the reality that even then, even after sacrificing everything, he might not be able to protect the dragons.
“What am I doing, Toothless?” he whispers, voice breaking halfway through. Trygve is in the next room, busy with something – or pretending to be. Hiccup hopes that he can’t hear, but the words tumble out before he can try to hold them back.
The night fury growls a soft encouragement, butting his head up against Hiccup’s side. You’ll figure it out.
“What if I can’t?” he asks, stilling, as he stares into the green eyes that feel like a mirror of his own. “What if I’m not… able?”
Toothless nudges him a little harder this time, and Hiccup sighs. “Yeah, I guess I can find a way. Like I always do.” But the words sound hollow this time. They don’t have the same ring of optimism that he always goes for. The attack on the Edge is still there. It’s always there, in the back of his mind, taunting him with possibilities. With his own mistakes.
This isn’t a game. Of course, it’s not. Hiccup knows better. It has never been a game, especially not back when they were younger, fighting the Berserkers. They were so inexperienced back then. But now? Now, they know what they’re doing – sort of.
Except the dragon hunters are nothing like Dagur and his men.
They’re better. Better equipment, better leadership, better everything. And Hiccup is scrambling to catch up. He needs to be better than the hunters, to do better so that if they decide to attack the Edge again, they don’t nearly succeed. He won’t let that happen twice.
He can do nothing about those doubts and concerns now, however. He’s trapped, grounded until he can repair Toothless’ tailfin, so Hiccup does what he does best: he fixes it.
He lets himself forget everything and everyone as he throws himself headfirst into something that he can fix. He’s proving himself in a different way. He might not be able to see a solution to the hunter problem, so he’s taking it one thing at a time.
Like always.
Hiccup is murmuring quietly to himself, trying to get the metal to bend back into shape while he tries to think of some way to get the canvas or leather that he’ll need for the tailfin itself when Trygve comes back into the room. The man doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches, and slowly, Hiccup becomes more accustomed to the eyes on him. He doesn’t stop working, and if he’s tenser than he was before, no one can prove it.
“Did you build that yourself?” Trygve asks.
Hiccup startles at the question. He hadn’t expected to be addressed. Most people don’t care to talk to him when he’s working with one of his designs, because he has a tendency to start rambling about it even when he ought to shut up. But then again, this stranger doesn’t know him. He doesn’t know that it might be better to remain silent.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I did.”
“It is intriguing,” the man replies. “How does it work?”
Hiccup hesitates for only a moment. He needs something to distract him from the thoughts rolling around in his head, and this genuine curiosity from a total stranger is oddly comforting. So, he starts talking. He explains how he constructed the tailfin to help Toothless fly, how he had to build it in such a way that they can only fly if they’re flying together. He explains the construction process, the materials he uses, the – everything.
He stops talking abruptly when he realizes that Trygve hasn’t said a single thing all this time, an embarrassed flush creeping into his face. “Sorry,” he stutters out, unable to meet the man’s eyes. “You probably don’t care about those details.”
“To the contrary,” Trygve replies. “I find your ingenuity fascinating.”
Hiccup blinks at him, caught by surprise. “O-oh.” That hasn’t happened in a long time, if ever.
He knows that Berk appreciates his ideas far more than they used to, but he hasn’t forgotten the years of mockery and belittlement. It’s true that his inventions often never worked out the way he wanted, but he still did his best, and he could have found a way to make them work if he’d had the chance. No one other than Gobber ever wanted to listen to him. When he starts talking, even now, he’s often told to shut up. Even the riders say it, though it’s done in a playful, teasing manner instead of with the same derision as before.
It still – sometimes, it still hurts.
Even if he pretends it doesn’t. Even if he pretends that he doesn’t have far too many scars littering his skin, a silent testimony to the pain that he felt every single day in his younger years.
Trygve sits on a crate across the room, leaning against the wall with the air of a man who intends to stay for a while. “Tell me more about your inventions. I’m sure you have many.” He says it with curiosity, and under the intent focus of the man’s eyes, Hiccup finds that he can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no.
“I– I don’t–” He shrugs, uncomfortable by the attention. “I design a lot of things. Many aren’t practical. I’m always coming up with ideas, things that we can use to make life a little easier.” He gestures vaguely, fingers tracing along the broken pieces of the tailfin as he speaks. “Weapons sometimes. Mostly, just… other stuff.”
“Do you ever sell your inventions?” the trader questions, and Hiccup thinks that he can see where this is going even before the man continues. “I imagine you could make quite a profit if you sold them to the right customers.”
His lips quirk up ever so slightly. Traders never change, but at least this one isn’t quite so obviously greedy for money like Johann is. “Sometimes, but rarely,” he answers. “Mostly if we ever need supplies, I go up to the Northern Markets and trade some things.”
The man nods slowly, something silently watchful in his eyes. It might make Hiccup feel uneasy if he was fully alert, but as it stands now, he isn’t. He’s injured – if only minorly – and recovering from the shock of the crash. The fire is warming him, and the main reason he hasn’t fallen asleep is because his mind is whirling too loudly for him to find any rest.
After a moment, Hiccup starts talking again. He tells Trygve about some of his other inventions, even going into unnecessary detail about how he came to make them. As always, he’s careful not to give away too much about the Edge or anything that can be used against the riders, but it feels so incredibly good to talk about what he’s created.
At some point, he trails off, glancing toward the door. The storm outside is dying down a bit, and exhaustion is weighing him down. Toothless’ tailfin needs to be fully fixed, and Hiccup needs to locate the supplies to do so. All in all, he doesn’t have time to linger and talk, even if he might like to. Besides, Toothless is getting antsy. He doesn’t trust this trader, at least not enough to relax, and Hiccup trusts the night fury’s instincts implicitly. Just because the man has been hospitable thus far, they can’t entirely let down their guard.
He lifts the prosthetic. “I need to find some way of fixing this.”
“You also look like you need to rest,” the man counters, and there’s something almost gentler about his tone.
Hiccup makes a face. “I’ll rest when I get back home.”
He tilts his head. “Is it far from here?”
“Far enough.”
“How about a deal?” Trygve offers finally. “I will provide you with whatever materials you need to repair your dragon’s tail mechanism, and in return, you will get some rest before you go on your way. The storm is still close, and there is no sense in you getting caught in it once more.”
Hiccup hesitates, glancing at Toothless. The dragon rumbles, ears flicking a little. Your move. He lets out a shaky breath. “Alright.”
“Very well.” Trygve smiles slightly. “Hiccup, your creativity is incredible. I would be delighted to make a treaty with you should you ever change your mind.”
He blinks slowly. Something about those words is strange, but he can’t make sense of it now with tiredness weighing him down. “Alright,” he replies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
When the trader leaves the room this time, it’s obvious that he’s trying to give Hiccup some measure of privacy. He curls up against Toothless, tucked under the night fury’s wings, head resting on his best friend’s warm scales. It’s the one place that he always feels safe. Even now, even in a place where he’s on his own with a man that he’s never met before today, Hiccup feels safe. Because Toothless is here, and that means he doesn’t need to be afraid.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he awakens abruptly to Toothless’ warning growl. Hiccup’s eyes snap open, and he’s alert almost at once. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly ever since the hunter attacked the Edge. The knowledge that it could happen again without warning has kept him from being able to get the kind of deep, restful sleep that his body craves.
“Easy.” It’s Trygve. The man is in the middle of the room, a bundle of canvas cloth in his hands. “I mean you no harm.”
Toothless grumbles. We’ll see. It’s a disbelieving sound, but he makes no move to attack as the trader comes closer. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Trygve says to Hiccup, “but I procured something which I believe should work.”
Hiccup sits up, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’ve stayed longer than I should have anyway.” He reaches out, taking the canvas and testing the strength of it between his fingers. “It will work. Thank you.” He pauses as a sudden thought occurs to him. “Is this a sail?”
Trygve smiles. This time, he looks genuinely amused. “A spare,” he replies. “You need it more than me.”
For a moment, Hiccup feels choked by the words. He never expected this kind of generosity, not from a stranger he never even met. This is a man who could easily mean him harm, but who has somehow showed more appreciation for Hiccup’s inventions than any of his friends ever have. It’s – it’s not something that Hiccup knows what to do with.
“I– thank you,” he blurts out, meeting the man’s dark eyes. “For this. And for bandaging me.”
For a moment, the briefest of moments, Trygve’s gaze flicks down toward Hiccup’s forearm – or at least he thinks it does. It’s hard to say, but nothing in his expression changes. He reveals nothing about what he might think about what he saw. He must know, though. He must. Yet he’s not holding it over Hiccup’s head. He’s not acknowledging it at all, and Hiccup can’t decide if that’s more terrifying or relieving.
For some inexplicable reason, this total stranger puts Hiccup at ease. He makes Hiccup feel seen. It’s… strange. And worst of all, it’s not unwanted.
“Of course,” the trader answers. “I’m glad to be of service.”
He leaves Hiccup to his work, moving about quietly in the next room while Hiccup cuts the canvas sail to the right shape. He has to layer it, so it won’t tear during the flight, but it’ll hold until he and Toothless are safely back at the Edge.
The night fury dozes while Hiccup works, eyes half-closed and fixed on the opposite doorway, but it’s clear that he’s relaxed somewhat. Maybe he doesn’t trust Trygve, but he trusts that Hiccup will have his back. And that’s enough.
It could be minutes or hours before Hiccup decides that he’s done. The tailfin is as sturdy as it will be without the proper materials, but it won’t give out on them when they’re airborne.
And that means it’s time for Hiccup to leave. Hopefully, the others haven’t burned the Edge down in his absence. Or gotten into an entanglement with the hunters while searching for him. He regrets lingering for so long. As hard as it might be for him to keep control of them and be in charge, protecting them is still his responsibility. He can’t afford to slack off.
“Trygve?” he calls as he tests the mechanism one final time. It works.
The man appears in the doorway almost at once, almost as though he was waiting for it. “Yes?”
Suddenly, Hiccup feels awkward. He doesn’t know why. He knows how to handle himself in front of people. The once embarrassment of Berk has become their well-respected heir. He knows how to talk to people, and he knows how to lead. He doesn’t know what makes this so much harder.
“Thanks for letting Toothless and I stay,” he tells the trader. “The storm has moved on, and his tailfin is fixed, so…”
Trygve nods, understanding. “It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hiccup,” he replies. “Perhaps we will meet again.”
Hiccup nearly blurts out I hope so before he catches himself. “Maybe,” he answers. “If we happen to be at the Northern Markets at the same time.”
The man’s expression is almost satisfied, as if that was the response he was hoping for. “How often do you go there?”
“Uh… it varies a lot, honestly.” Hiccup laughs, a bit strained. “It depends how many things get blown up, from accidents or attacks or… otherwise.” He shakes his head. “Every few weeks, I guess? We’ve always got to be careful, so we don’t run into the hunters.”
“Of course,” Trygve agrees mildly.
Hiccup goes to pick up his flight suit, wrestling with the leather a bit as he tries to get it on without moving his right arm too much. He fails, but he bites back the hiss that nearly escapes. He probably just tore it open again. Oh well. He puts the shoulder armor and bracers on next, and other than the tear in his sleeve and the bandage around his skin, he feels more like himself again, as though nothing has changed at all.
“C’mon, bud,” he murmurs, heading to the door.
The night fury is more than happy to follow, and Hiccup climbs into the saddle with a practiced ease. He glances back, once, to see Trygve watching as the dragon spreads his wings as they take off. He thinks the trader might say something, but the words are too quiet.
And then, they’re in the sky, wind rushing past them, and Hiccup feels the smile spreading across his face, genuine delight filling him as they fly. Being up in the air is one of the few things that truly helps him clear his head and find peace, and this time is no different. He wants to enjoy the peace while it lasts, but they need to return to the Edge as soon as possible. The others will undoubtedly be waiting for him, and he’ll have to explain what happened. He’s lucky that neither he nor Toothless were hurt any worse. They could have been killed by that lightning.
But they have a new friend now, someone they might be able to call on in a time of need. Hiccup doesn’t know how to find the man, but someone must know him. All in all, this could have turned out so much worse.