Chapter 10: Aftermath at Berk

Snotlout anxiously wiped the driving rain from his eyes as he peered down through the storm, searching the darkness and willing Berk to appear out of the night. A blinding flash of light to the right made him jump as lightning forked to the ground, illuminating the crashing waves below. That was too close. The thunder rolled over him, vibrating his chest and he clapped his hands to his ears. Normally, he would have done anything to avoid such a storm, but Berk was at the center of this one and he couldn't afford to wait. Gobber's note kept playing in his mind. Berk was under attack.

Hookfang adjusted course slightly and they continued through the gail, blindly seeking their way home. Just as Snotlout was sure they had lost their way the dim glow of houses appeared below. They had made it. The sun had yet to come over the horizon but they had closed the distance to Berk in record time. Hookfang began to spiral down toward the familiar shape of his family's house as it appeared out of the soggy gloom. They splashed down, splattering mud.

Snotlout slid from the saddle, his legs trembling slightly as his muscles adjusted to his weight after such a long ride. He looked around trying to take in his surroundings. There were certainly more people about at this early hour than would normally be, whether it was in their houses or bundled against the rain and making their way to unknown destinations. There was the smell of wet ash and smoke in the air. A fire? Several by the strength of the smell. Hookfang shook himself, stomping about in the mud, the dragon narrowly avoiding stepping on a stray chicken which squawked frantically and scuttled after the others of its flock on the far side of the street. Odd. Normally the chickens were kept locked up at night.

Snotlout shivered, the last of Hookfang's warmth leaching away through his sodden clothes. The last hour of flying had been through the storm and by the look of things it was not about to let up anytime soon. He turned to his house, relieved to see it in one piece and seemingly unchanged. Behind him, Hookfang sank to the ground, steam rising from his scales. Snoltout watched him, biting his lip. Had he pushed Hookfang too hard too soon after his ordeal with the titan wing? He pushed the thought aside for the moment and climbed the three steps to his front door. He pushed it open and was greeted with a wave of warmth and the welcoming smell of freshly baked bread. He'd only just closed the door when he was engulfed in a tight but soft hug. The familiar smell of his mother eased over him.

"Mom!" he said, pulling back slightly with a gasp.

"Oh Snotlout," she exclaimed, peppering his face with kisses. "Thank Thor you're here. I've been so worried."

"Berk's the one who was attacked," he said as she released him long enough to survey him with a critical eye.

"You're soaked through and through," she said, steering him toward the chair by the fire which was usually reserved for his father. Before he could protest, she had him sitting and had handed him half of a loaf of steaming bread slathered with fresh butter. The heat burned his fingertips but he bit into it, suddenly grateful to eat again. His mother sat in her own chair across from him, watching him.

"Where's Dad?" he asked around his fifth mouthful.

"Off helping Stoick and Gobber no doubt." There were smears of soot and flour on his mother's face and her hair was escaping her usually neat braid. She sank back into her chair exhausted.

"Geoffrey and Adele?"

"Asleep, thank the Norns. It seemed they would never be still with all that's been going on."

"Mom, what happened here?" he asked, sucking the last of the butter from his thumb. "I was on my way back for a supply run when I intercepted Gobber's T-mail."

"Ah, that explains how you got here so soon," she said, running a hand over her face. "We weren't expecting the riders back for another day or two."

"Who attacked us?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "Stoick and your father are trying to find that out."

"But what happened?"

"Midday yesterday a strange group of ships appeared around the far side of Berk. No one was quite sure what to make of them, but before they had any chance to prepare, the ships opened fire on us. By the time we knew what was happening the ships had turned tail and we had to turn our attention to the fires and the wounded."

"Why didn't Uncle Stoick at least go after them on Stormbreaker?"

"He tried," she said, stifling a yawn. "But they brought him down with a bola."

Snotlout frowned. "I should go find Dad." He stood and had his hand on the doorknob when a knock sounded from outside.

"Freeda," came Gobber's muffled voice. "Is Snotlout here?"

Snotlout pulled the door open. Gobber stood on the porch, the wind whipping and howling around him. A lantern swung from the hook that currently served as his left hand.

"Oy, I suppose he is," said Gobber, stepping inside, and wringing the rain from his long blond mustache. "Someone said they saw a monstrous nightmare fly over. Stoick will be wanting to see ya lad."

"I was just on my way there," said Snotlout. "Where are they? The great hall?"

"Oh, no. The great hall was the first thing they targeted. They're up at your uncle's."

"They… they destroyed the great hall?" asked Snotlout, dumbfounded.

"Aye, and it'll put quite a kink in our eating habits. No more communal meals for a while. I have to cook for myself, I don't know if I'll survive. And of course, it rules out the great hall as a place for the Hoffersons and Lunkersons to stay. We're still working out all the details."

"What happened to the Hoffersons and Lunkerson?" asked Snotlout, Astrid's family name catching his ear.

"Their houses were demolished, completely destroyed."

"What exactly was the damage done?" asked Snotlout hesitantly, not sure he wanted to know. "Was anyone hurt? Is…is anyone dead?"

"Dead?" said Gobber, blinking. "No, no one's dead, though old widow Johnson kicked up enough of a fit that some thought she was."

"What buildings were destroyed?" pressed Snotlout.

"A fair handful of outbuildings, several chicken coops, one of our storehouses," listed Gobber. "Luckily it was the empty one, and like I said they took the great hall and of course the Hofferson and Lunkerson homes. Not as bad as it could have been, but not exactly ideal."

"What about the injured?"

"I just finished making the rounds. A broken bone or two, several cuts and gashes, and a nasty burn. But nothing old Gothi can't handle."

"Where is she now," asked his mother as she packed fresh loaves of bread into a basket.

Gobber strode to the table and reached for a loaf of bread only to have his mother slap his hand away. "These are for the Lunkersons and Hoffersons," she said. "Where is Gothi?"

"Alright, alright," grumbled Gobber, rubbing his hand on his hip. "Last I knew Gothi was out at the Ingerman's"

"Did Poppy go into labor early?"

"As far as I know, but I'm no midwife. The youngest Ingerman had the chicken coup come down on top of him and he broke a leg."

"Poor Poppy, still I reckon she will be relieved to no longer be on bed rest. I'll have to check in with her later. I know her pregnancies can be difficult but labor seems to be easy for her. The baby is only a few weeks early."

"That's more than I would know," muttered Gobber, eyeing the bread enviously. "Freeda, can't I just have one loaf?"

"No," she said primly. "The next ones, perhaps. I thought I would take some up to Stoick and Spitelout. But maybe I'll have to take some out to the Ingerman's first."

"Why?" grumbled Gobber. "Thor knows it was quite a walk. As far from the village as you can get."

"Other than the Helvig's," said Snotlout, absently trying to imagine how Astrid was going to react to not having a home to come home to.

"The who?" asked Gobber. Snotlout's attention snapped back to the blacksmith.

"The Helvig's Gobber," he said. Gobber just stared at him blankly and Snotlout's stomach dropped.

"You did check with the Helvigs didn't you?" pressed his mother, a note of worry in her voice.

"The name does ring a bell… but…"

Snotlout was past him and out the door before his mother could berate the man.

"Hey where are you going?" called Gobber as Snotlout whistled for Hookfang. "Your father and Stoick will want to see you."

"Leave him be Gobber," called his mother, standing on the porch.

"But where are you going?" shouted Gobber.

"Sigyn," said Snotlout curtly, swinging up into Hookfang's saddle. "Come on Hookfang!" Before Gobber could protest further he and Hookfang were back in the storm being buffeted by the wind as they sped to the far side of the village.

Why hadn't he gone there first? He should have known his father would see to their family, but who would look after Sigyn and her father in the midst of chaos? Clearly not Gobber. Had no one really thought to check on them? He ground his teeth just thinking about it. He tried to calm himself as they descended toward Sigyn's house. There was no sense in getting worked up. They were probably just fine. But he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it as Hookfang landed in front of the dark house. He lept down before Hookfang could lower his neck and vaulted the three steps to the front door which stood open.

"Sigyn? Mr. Helvig?" he called into the empty house, willing someone to answer. Silence was all that greeted him. He quickly checked all the rooms of the little hut, trying not to trip over the clutter in the dark. The fire in the hearth had long since gone cold. Where could they be? Sigyn not being here was explainable, but she would have had to carry her father as well to explain his absence. Even then, where would they go? Had they gone to another family's house when it became clear Berk was under attack? He stepped back onto the porch, peering through the rain and across the dark yard.

The empty house was not the only thing wrong. There were chickens perched on the railing of the porch. They should be in the coup for the night. Bawling drew his attention to the barn where Todd the yak calf was huddled under the eaves of the barn. The large doors were shut. He knew Sigyn often shut the calf out while she was doing the milking but she always let him back in after. Panic began to creep up his spine like icy fingers. Where was she?

"Sigyn?" he called again as he crossed the yard to investigate the barn. Todd came to him, brushing against him and trying to suck his fingers, clearly hungry. Where was his mother, Bertha? He pulled the barn door ajar and stepped inside. It was colder than it should be and there was a breeze.

"Hookfang?" he called, gesturing to his dragon to follow. Hookfang came forward, pushing his head into the barn, the sudden flames from his head lighting the inside of the barn… or rather what was left of it. Hookfang growled as he sniffed the air, his flames burning brighter.

The back half of the barn had been completely smashed in and was little more than a jumbled pile of sticks. Snotlout stepped forward, horror clamping his throat and strangling any outcry. His eyes searched the chaos as he tried not to imagine what he might find. The calf pushed past him and went to sniff at the pile of rubble, lowing mournfully.

Rain poured in rivulets from the missing roof and ran down the collar of Snotlout's tunic as he numbly approached the calf. The wet straw at his feet was stained crimson and a pool of blood had seeped out from the wreckage. Terror clenched around his heart and clawed up his throat as he automatically bent to get a closer look, dreading what he would find.

Please, Odin, let it be anything, anyone but Sigyn.

The shadows were too dark to see. He reached forward to move some of the debris, trying to get a better look but jerked his hand back when his fingers brushed against something soft and cold. Hair? Had that been hair? Oh, Norns no! He tore the rubble aside and thrust his hand into the dark only to have his fingers once again meet the hair…no, not hair. It was too coarse for hair. Fur? Relief flooded through him. It was fur. Yak fur. Just the missing yak. But where was Sigyn?

"Sigyn!" he screamed, the tension in him finally bursting into dread. "Sigyn!"

"Snotlout?" came the answering scream from outside the barn. He'd never heard Mr. Helvig scream before but he instantly recognized it.

"Mr. Helvig," yelled Snotlout, running back out into the rain and around to the back of the barn, Hookfang following. He stopped abruptly, almost running headlong into a boulder that had crushed the barn. It came up to his waist. Darting around it he began to search the splintered wood for his friend.

"Mr Helvig? Where are you?"

"Here," came a shout off to the left. He clambered over a large beam and had to stop himself from falling over a pair of legs sticking out of a gap in the wood.

"Mr. Helvig? Are you hurt?" he asked, trying to get his footing as he assessed the mess. Mr. Helvig's legs stuck out of a crevice between the rubble but he didn't look crushed.

"I'm fine. It's Sigyn who needs help. Is anyone with you?"

"No," said Snotlout, climbing up beside his legs. "It's just me and Hookfang."

"We need to get Sigyn out of there. She's passed out from the pain and shock. I think her arm is broken. It's trapped and before she lost consciousness she said there was something wrong with her side. I'm not sure, she was in shock. We need to get her to Gothi."

"She's below you?" asked Snotlout.

"Yes. I was trying to get to her when I got stuck. I can't get any closer and I don't have the right leverage to back out with just my arms."

"I'll get you out," said Snotlout, gripping around the man's waist and hauling him backward. It took a bit of tugging but at last, he'd pulled Mr. Helvig free. He set the man down and looked him over for injury. Aside from a few scraps he seemed fine but it was difficult to assess him through the mud and muck that was smeared down his front. How had he gotten out here to the barn? He must have heard the crash and dragged himself out here when Sigyn didn't answer. Sigyn!

Snotlout clambered back up the pile in search of her, calling for Hookfang to come closer. He looked in the crevice again and could see Sigyn's golden hair glinting in Hookfang's light. She was pinned behind several large beams that had fallen. One of her hands was hanging limply out of her wooden prison. Getting down on his belly Snoltout wormed further into the wreckage, trying to find a way closer to her. He managed to get his head and one arm through the crack but couldn't get any closer, stuck in exactly the same position Mr. Helvig had been in.

"Sigyn?" he called, his fingertips brushing her hand. He grabbed her fingers squeezing. "Sigyn!"

She didn't answer but under her eyelids, her eyes moved. He strained to grip her wrist and held his breath. There was a pulse. "Sigyn?" he called again. "Sigyn."

Her eyes fluttered open as she moaned

"Sigyn, thank Thor," he cried, squeezing her hand.

"Snotlout?" she asked, groggily, her eyes unfocused. She groaned, her face pulling into a grimace of pain. "It hurts so much," she hissed, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes.

"I know," he said, his throat tightening. "I know, but we're going to get you out of here."

"Here?" she asked, dazed.

"The barn's collapsed," he said, trying to scan what little of her he could see for injury. The arm she had extended toward him seemed scratched up but intact but he couldn't see the other. "You're trapped in the debris but we're going to get out."

"Trapped…? Barn…?" she said, the words seeming to penetrate her haze. She was suddenly much more alert but in the wrong way. Her eyes flew wide, pupils dilated as she took in her surroundings. Her breathing hitched for a moment and then sped up, the shallow rapid breathing coming out as hisses through her clenched teeth.

"Sigyn?" he called, squeezing her trembling hand.

"Out," she hissed, yanking her hand away from him. "Get me out here!" Her tone was a mixture of panic and rage. She was looking at him like he was a goblin. What was wrong? "Let me go! Get me out!"

"Don't… Don't worry," he stuttered. "I'm going to get you out." He slithered backward, trying to clamp down on his fear.

"Hookfang," he called, motioning his dragon closer.

"You can't use Hookfang," said Sigyn's father, his searching hand catching Snotlout's arm. Snotlout stared back at him confused.

"I can't get to her without moving some of the beams. I can't lift them."

It was silent for a long moment.

"Alright… just… just be ready," said Mr. Helvig, releasing his arm.

"Ready for what?"

"She's already panicked, but seeing a monstrous nightmare, even Hookfang, while trapped… well just don't be surprised if she… reacts."

"Reacts?"

"Just get her out and be careful," said Mr. Helvig.

Confused and slightly wary, Snotlout turned back towards Sigyn, motioning for Hookfang to follow him.

"This one first," he said, touching one of the beams trapping Sigyn. He wriggled back down toward Sigyn, his belly scrapping over the rough splinters. Sigyn had pulled her free arm close to her chest and was stifling soft sobs. Snotlout's heart lurched. He didn't like seeing her like this. It was like watching a small child huddled in a corner.

"Now, Hookfang," he called uneasily, not taking his eyes off of Sigyn's huddled form. Hookfang's head dipped down, the flames dancing across his skin as he opened his jaws to grip the beam. In front of him, Sigyn stifled a scream, her fist jammed between her teeth. Her eyes were wide, the whites of her eyes showing round in the dark shadows of her muddy face.

"Sigyn," he called, trying to draw her attention, but she only had terrified eyes for Hookfang as he lifted the log free, and threw it away. The pressure pinning Snotlout eased and he wriggled forward, almost falling on his face as he dropped head-first into the small space beside Sigyn.

"Snotlout, is everything alright?" called Mr. Helvig, nervously.

"We're alright," assured Snotlout, turning his attention to Sigyn. She was watching him with wary trepidation, her body tense as he scooted closer. He half expected her to hiss or try to hit him, but she just kept glancing past him to where Hookfang was watching.

"Sigyn," he said, his palms extended to her. "Sigyn, it's me. Let's get you out of here." She didn't answer but at least she didn't shrink further away. It was dark but he could make out her arm pinned between two logs. Watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye he slowly reached for her arm to see if there was any give around it. He grimaced. While it was not crushed, there was no way to pull or wiggle her arm free without hurting her. He peered into the darkness, trying to see where the top log led but the shadows all bled together.

"Hookfang," he called. A moment later the flames of his dragon danced above him, illuminating the space. Sigyn began to whimper again. Quickly, Snotlout followed the beam crushing Sigyn's arm and reaching up through the debris pointed to it. "This one," he said to Hookfang. "On my mark." He turned back to Sigyn who watched the light above her.

"Sigyn," he said, getting right in front of her. "Sigyn," he called again when she didn't look at him. Her eyes darted to his face and then back up. "Hey look at me." He took her face in his hands, using them to shield her view. He had no idea why she was so upset, only that the sight of Hookfang seemed to set her off.

"Sigyn, I need you to close your eyes."

"But… the dragon.."

"Don't worry about the dragon," he said, catching her chin when she tried to look away again. "It's okay. I promise. Just look at me."

"Snotlout," she asked in dazed confusion.

"I'm here. You're going to be okay, but I need you to trust me." He seemed to have her attention now. "We have to lift this beam to get your arm free. Hookfangs going to help."

"Hookfang?"

"My dragon."

"Dragon?" she squeaked, the panic returning to her eyes. He swore under his breath. Shouldn't have mentioned Hookfang.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay," he said, making her look at him again. "You trust me, don't you?" It was a long moment before she nodded.

"Then I need you to close your eyes until I tell you it's over. Keep them closed no matter what." She nodded meekly and he wrapped his arms around her, one of his hands pulling her face into his neck so she could not look up.

"Now Hookfang." The debris around them began to shift and groan. In his arms, Sigyn was trembling and he held her tighter as she whimpered.

"It's all right," he reassured, watching for the moment he could extricate her arm. She gave a small grunt of pain as the load shifted and then her body relaxed as she pulled her arm free. Hookfang pulled back and it was just the two of them in the dark space again.

"You okay?" he asked, at last loosening his grip on her. But her body slumped against his and she would have collapsed into the mud had he not caught her. Her head lolled on his shoulder and it was only the soft puff of breath across his jaw that let him know she was still breathing.

"Snotlout," came Mr. Helvig's worried call. Snotlout shifted his grip on Sigyn and shuffled toward the gap.

"Her arm is free, but I think she passed out again. Hookfang," he called. Hookfang's face appeared and Snotlout grabbed a hold of the horn on his nose. He tightened his grip around Sigyn's waist as Hookfang dragged them up and out of the debris before setting them down next to Mr. Helvig.

Her father instantly reached for her, his fingers searching for her neck. His worried expression shifted to one of grave resignation.

"Take her back to the house, Snotlout, and put her on my bed."

Snotlout nodded and stumbled to his feet before scooping Sigyn into his arms. He struggled a moment till he found a way to carry her, one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders.

"Hookfang, bring him," he said, jerking his head at Mr. Helvig. The dragon dipped his head rumbling and Mr. Helvig found his horns, clinging to them as they made their way quickly back to the house. As soon as Snotlout had laid Sigyn down on Mr. Helvig's disheveled bed, he returned to the porch for her father bringing him into the room and settling him on the chair beside the bed.

"Let's have some light," instructed Mr. Helvig. Snotlout searched and a few moments later he came back into the room, a lit candle in hand.

"What can you see?" asked Mr. Helvig. But Snotlout didn't respond. He was staring in horror at his shirt and hands which were smeared a bright red.

"She… she's blending," he stammered. "A lot."

"Where?" asked her father, his voice tight.

Snotlout stepped forward visually inspecting Sigyn. His stomach dropped. Her entire left side was a deep crimson. "Her side," he said, leaned closer, and slowly pulled up her muddy shirt. He gulped trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "There's a piece of jagged wood about the width of my thumb sticking out of her side."

"Is it actively bleeding?" asked her father, reaching a hand out. "Show me."

Snotlout guided his hand to the wound and waited as her father's fingers ran over the red swollen skin.

Go for Gothi," said Mr. Helvig, fumbling with the sheets before pressing them around the wound. But Snolout stood frozen, staring in blank shock at the blood on his hands. How had he not noticed her injury, her warm blood on his hands? How had this happened? Who had done this? Who had attacked Berk and then just left. It was senseless. Why?

"Snotlout," snapped Mr. Helvig. "Don't panic. I don't think she's in immediate danger, but we need Gothi. I want to be sure this is handled correctly."

Like a spring releasing, everything snapped back into focus. Sigyn was bleeding and he was just standing there like an idiot. Without a word, he turned and ran for the door calling for Hookfang. They were in the air in moments, Snotlout trying to see through the night and rain. Where had Gobber said Gothi was? At the Ingerman's, delivering a baby? He spotted a light in and put Hookfang into a steep dive. They landed with a splash to find the house of glow and busy as a hornet's nest. He leapt to the ground and approached the door, but hesitated. What if Gothi couldn't come because she was still with Mrs. Ingerman? Would she or the family be angry? But Sigyn needed Gothi too.

He knocked. At first, no one came to the door, despite, or perhaps because of the commotion on the other side. He knocked again, louder. A few moments later the door creaked open, an older boy yelling over his shoulder. The boy had Fishleg's blond hair and brown eyes but that was where the similarities stopped. He was older and taller, but skinny, almost lerpy and there was a patch of hair growing on his chin. Snotlout struggled, trying to remember his name. Shepard? Fishlegs's only older sibling. Shepherd glanced down at Snotlout still distracted by the hubbub behind him, but when Shepard caught sight of him his eyes went wide.

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"What's happened?" asked Shepard, staring at him. He must be a sight, covered in mud and blood and completely drenched. "Are you hurt?"

"Not me, Sigyn Helvig."

"Sigyn?" stammered Shepard, his narrow face draining of color. "Is.. is she okay?"

"I need Gothi," said Snotlout, his words tumbling over each other as he tried to remain calm. "Is she still here?"

"She's still here," said Shepard, opening the door wide. "I'll get her." Snotlout stepped inside awkwardly. The warmth and hubbub of the house engulfing him was at odds with the panic in his chest. Shepherd ran to one of the back rooms calling out for Gothi. A few moments later Mrs. Ingerman came shuffling into the room. Snotlout stared at her, confused.

"Snotlout?" asked the woman, her eyes traveling over him. "What's wrong?"

"Sigyn," he said.

"What's happened?"

"The barn was hit and she was inside. She's hurt. Her father sent me for Gothi… but I… I thought you were having a baby."

"Oh my, that was hours ago," said the woman dismissively. "Bless Freya, but little Alice was small and came almost before Gothi could arrive. They seem to come faster and easier every time. The hard part is keeping them inside long enough. No, Gothi is seeing to Drake's leg. It's broken. But she's about got him sorted." She turned her attention to the girl at the fire momentarily. "Sylvia, make sure you stir the stew properly."

"Is Fishlegs with you?" asked Mrs. Ingerman, glancing toward the door.

"No, I was already on my way here for a supply run when all this happened."

"Gothi's coming," said Shepherd, reappearing from the back room, a small crying bundle in his arms. "I think she's hungry again," said Shepherd, holding the baby out to his mother. Sighing, Mrs Ingerman took the baby and pulled aside the loose front of her dress, casually attaching the baby to her breast. Snotlout looked the other way, his cheeks heating slightly.

"What exactly happened to Sigyn?" asked Shepard anxiously. "How badly hurt is she?"

"We think her arm is broken. It was pinned under some of the debris," said Snotlout, watching as Shepard fidgeted.

"Is that her blood all over you?"

"There is a big splinter of wood sticking out of her side."

"That's a lot of blood."

"Not so much as you would think," said Mrs. Ingerman, cooing at the baby in her arms. "There always seems to be more than you would think. How big was the splinter and where exactly?"

"About the width of my thumb," said Snotlout, pointing to the spot on his own side.

"Was she feverish?"

"I don't think so. She was unconscious when I left but I think that was the shock. She was in pain and terrified when Hookfang and I pulled her out."

"Then it likely missed any vital organs. She would have been in a much worse state otherwise, especially if she has been there since yesterday's attack. Heavens, I wish I had thought to send someone to check on them. Poor Sigyn."

"You used your dragon to get her out?" asked Shepard, looking angry.

"I had to," said Snotlout, suddenly feeling defensive. "Otherwise she would still be stuck down there in the mud with her arm pinned." This was the second time someone had questioned his use of Hookfang. After all, it wasn't as though Sigyn didn't know Hookfang. She'd ridden him for Thor's sake. Shepherd glared at him, and Snotlout couldn't figure out why the older boy was angry with him.

"Kenith," scolded the woman, breaking the tension in the air as she addressed a boy who was poking a sleeping girl. "Leave Susan alone. Thor knows that someone ought to be able to sleep in all this chaos." Shaking his head in disgust, Shepherd crossed the room and picked up the boy, distracting him. Snoltout looked toward the back room, wishing Gothi would hurry.

"Was Torben injured?" asked Mrs. Ingerman, turning her attention back to Snotlout.

"No," said Snotlout. "Just Sigyn."

At last, Gothi shambled out of the back room and straight past Snotlout, a large bag in hand.

"It's Sigyn," he said, turning to follow her. But Gothi just opened the door and strode outside toward Hookfang, beckoning for Snotlout to hurry. Before he knew it, she was seated on his dragon looking down at him expectantly. Shaking himself, he climbed up behind her.

The house was as he'd left it, still dark save the candles burning in Mr. Helvig's room. Gothi needed no direction but simply dismounted and went straight to Sigyn, Snotlout following behind her. But no sooner had he filed into the small room behind the healer than he hastily backed out, his cheeks and ears burning. He should have guessed that might have been necessary. Mr. Helvig had stripped Sigyn bare to the waist in preparation for treatment and she was lying on her uninjured side. He backed out of the room and stood with his back to the wall outside the door, his face in his hands. That had been… unexpected. He was just glad Sigyn was unaware of his blunder. He tried to calm himself as his embarrassment slowly eked away to be replaced by worry once again. He could hear Mr. Helvig's low voice and Gothi's return grunts but he remained where he was trying not to replay what he'd just seen.

"Snotlout," called Mr. Helvig.

"Yes," replied Snotlout, not moving.

"Can you heat some water and find some clean rags?"

"I'll take care of it," he said, relieved to have something to keep his mind occupied. He quickly found another candle and in moments the room was aglow with its dancing light. He set about finding the clean rags. He'd seen Sigyn put some in the chest in the corner along with her medical kit last time he'd visited. He lifted the squeaky lid and to his relief found them in good supply. Next, he found one of the smaller cooking pots and filled it with clean water from the large jug Sigyn kept next to the stairs. Finding Hookfang outside, with his head on the porch he set the pot between his dragon's horns. Without explanation, his dragon was already heating the water. Absently he began to rub Hookfang's nose, trying to keep his mind blank rather than letting it replay the image of the blood that had stained his hands crimson or Sigyn's terrified eyes. Hookfang's long warm tongue flicked out of his mouth and wrapped around Snotlout's wrist, a low rumble in his chest.

"Thor, I hope she's okay," Snotlout whispered. "She will be, she has to be."

He wasn't sure he sounded very reassuring. Steam was rising from the pot now. Giving his dragon one last pat he carried the water back inside. Standing outside the bedroom with the pot and rags in hand he knocked, being sure to keep his eyes on the floor. The door opened and Gothi's face looked at him before taking the supplies from him and shutting the door.

Snotlout sat at the table, head in his hands as his mind began to spiral again. The other room remained quiet and he couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting to Sigyn. Would she be okay? Why had this happened? He cursed himself. If only he'd left a day sooner, maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have stopped this all. Who had attacked and then just left? Why? It made no sense. He ground the balls of his hands into his eyes, growling as lights popped in and out behind his closed eyelids. He was angry. He was frustrated. He felt so useless, unable to help. Unable to protect Sigyn and the rest of Berk. What good was being a dragon rider if he couldn't protect those he cared about? There was a familiar building pressure in his chest and behind his eyes. No, this was stupid. Sigyn would be fine. Gothi hadn't seemed worried when she had opened the door, but then again, he wasn't sure he could judge her expressions accurately.

He stood abruptly, pushing the chair back. These emotions wouldn't help anyone. His foot knocked against something and he looked down to see a spool of thread rolling across the dusty floor. He lifted his gaze and surveyed the room, unsurprised to find it in discord. He could help in this way, control this small spot in his swirling world. He could distract himself.

First was the fireplace. Once it was cleaned out and a new fire burning in its hearth he set his attention on the room, gathering, sorting, and organizing its contents. He heated water in the large cooking pot, made short work of the dishes, and wiped down the table. He tramped outside to refill the large water jug and finally took up the long-neglected broom. He pushed the dirt across the floor, wondering if Sigyn had touched the broom since the last time he had. By now, the weather had finally eased and morning was beginning to break in the East. The room was tidy and his hands were once again idle.

His stomach gurgled and though he was hungry, food didn't sound appealing. But perhaps Mr. Helvig was hungry. He was probably starving with how long Sigyn had been trapped. He'd just decided to make some porridge when there was a knock at the door. He glanced at the bedroom door but decided against bothering them. He pulled the front door open and was surprised to find Shepherd Ingerman standing on the porch, a large crock and a basket in hand. The two boys stared awkwardly at each other for a long moment before Shepherd raised the crock a bit higher.

"We had some leftover soup," he said hesitantly. "And I made some fresh bread for Sigyn and her father."

Snotlout stepped aside and let the boy in. Shepard set the crock and basket on the table staring around the room in surprise.

"This place sure cleans up well. I don't know as I've ever seen it this tidy."

Snotlout just watched him, unwilling to admit that he'd done it.

"Is that your dragon out on the porch?"

Snotlout nodded.

"You should send him back before Sigyn sees him. She doesn't like dragons."

"I know," said Snotlout, folding his arms over his chest.

"You know and you still brought him?"

"Sigyn doesn't mind Hookfang normally."

"I find that hard to believe," said Shepard.

"You can ask her when she wakes up," said Snotlout shortly.

"How is she?" asked Shepard, his tone softening slightly.

Snotlut shrugged. "Gothi is still with her and Mr. Helvig." It was silent for a long moment again.

"Anyway," said Shepherd, shaking himself. "Just let Mr. Helvig know that we'll be checking in on him and Sigyn over the next few days."

Snotlout nodded again.

"What damage was done to the barn?"

"The entire back half of the barn as far as I could tell, but it was dark. I haven't checked it properly yet. That means the chicken coop is likely gone. Their yak, Bertha, is dead. Not sure about the chickens. I have seen a few around."

"I see," said Shepherd, rubbing a hand over the hair growing on his chin. "Listen, ask Mr. Helvig if he wants us to take the yak calf off his hands for a while. We have room for him in our barn."

"I'll ask him," said Snotlout. "If that's what he wants I'll bring Todd over later."

"Very well," said Shepard, turning toward the door. "I… I should get back. I hope Sigyn recovers well." With a curt nod, Shepherd was gone and the house was quiet again. Snotlout felt himself relax somewhat, wondering why the older boy should make him so tense.

Snotlout had just lifted the lid off the crock to inspect its contents when he heard Mr. Helvig calling for him. He went to the door and cracked it open.

"You called?"

"Is there more hot water?"

"Yes. I have an entire cauldron out here. I thought you and Sigyn might want to clean up a bit."

"Yes, please. Also, Sigyn will need fresh clothes, and a fresh blanket as this one is soiled. Can you manage that? Gothi will help me clean and dress her."

"I'll get them," said Snotlout, shutting the door.

He climbed the stairs to Sigyn's room and pushed the door open. He was unsurprised to see the room a mess, dirty clothes in a pile in the corner, a few dishes, and what looked like her newest sewing project spread across her unmade bed. It was messy, but for once he found the disorder to be comforting rather than grading. This was Sigyn's mess, her space, and every disordered item had its own story. The room smelled of her as well and the scent seemed to ease his frayed nerves. But where were her clean clothes?

He opened the chest and was unsurprised to see it mostly empty of clothes but instead populated with sewing supplies. He turned his attention instead to the basket at the foot of the bed. This was more promising and he was rewarded with a clean shirt and a pair of britches; but should he get a night dress instead? Sigyn would likely be in bed for several days at least. He put them back and rummaged deeper into the basket, finally drawing out a familiar night dress. His ears pinked as he noticed to his chagrin that the neckline and length had indeed been altered.

He had his hand on the door when he groaned. He hadn't found any under clothes yet. But he hadn't seen any in the basket either. He really didn't want to think about it but turned back. She would need them. The only problem was finding them. Knowing her they would not be where they belonged, assuming she had clean ones to begin with. She did hate laundry. The bed was untidy but he rummaged through the crumpled sheets straightening them as he went. He began to subconsciously sort and put things away as he searched, tidying the room. Sigyn would probably be moved up here later. Her father may want her closer for now but he would need to rest as well. Thor, he wasn't even sure the last time he slept. He found what he was looking for tucked under some spare fabric at the back corner of her bed. Trying not to think about it too much he folded the undergarments into the night dress, snatched a spare blanket from the bed, and slipped back downstairs. He filled a bucket with hot water and knocked on the bedroom door. Once again Gothi appeared and took the supplies from him.

"Thank you," called Mr. Helvig from inside the room.

"Is she going to be okay?" asked Snotlout, the worry gnawing at the frayed edges of his mind.

"She should make a full recovery. She has a broken arm but luckily the piece of wood in her stomach missed all her organs. It's still a worry for infection but Gothi has seen to that. Relax my boy. Sigyn will be fine." Somewhere in Snotlout's stomach, a knot began to unravel. "She will be in bed for the better part of the week but she will be alright."

"Can I see her later?"

"She'll likely be asleep. Gothi gave her a sedative to keep her under while she worked, but yes, when she's cleaned up you can see her. Go rest. I'm sure you're tired."

Snotlout closed the door. He was tired, but he still felt restless. Absently, his feet carried him to the porch where Hookfang raised his head rumbling. Snoltout patted him as he surveyed the yard. The chickens had left their roost on the porch and were pecking about in the dirt. He counted them but only came up with four. One was missing. The yak calf was also nowhere to be seen. He frowned and stepped down off the porch, searching. He called out for Todd but Hookfang nudged him from behind. Snotlout turned to his dragon in confusion but relaxed a moment later.

Hookfang raised a leathered wing to reveal the calf tucked snugly to his side, fast asleep. Snotlout crept closer and crouched, running a hand through the curly hair on Todd's head. Poor thing, but at least he had reached the age to be weaned. Hookfang rumbled softly, looking pleased with himself.

"You big dope," said Snotlout half-heartedly. He was rewarded for his comment with a trail of saliva across his face. "Ah man, really Hookfang!" he said, wiping the spit from his face. The dragon rumbled, the noise almost sounding like a chuckle. Hookfang stilled and stretched his neck toward the door of the house.

"Sigyn will be okay," Snotlout said, sighing and getting to his feet. He patted Hoofang and then made his way across the yard, surveying the damage done to the barn in the light of day. It wasn't quite as bad as it might have been, he concluded. As he'd suspected the chicken coop was nothing more than a pile of sticks and timber. Poking through the rubble he found the last smashed chicken. He called for Hookfang and the dragon lumbered over. He pulled the mangled bird free and tossed it to his dragon who snapped it up with the audible crunch of bone.

He stood looking at the barn. It wasn't so much the back half of the barn as it was the back corner that had been smashed. It just happened to be the corner where the yak had been kept. It didn't look so bad. Most of the support beans were still intact, but the corner post would need to be replaced and the walls and roof reattached. What remained of the roof sagged ominously.

He went back around to the barn door and cautiously stepped inside going to the dead yak pinned under a large beam. He stepped closer, inspecting the dead animal. It was a shame but at least the meat didn't seem spoiled. The animal had bled out from a large gash on its neck thanks to the fallen hay loft. With Hookfang's help, he dragged the body into the yard. Spotting Todd, he took the calf around to the far side of the house and tied him to a stump where he could reach some tender grass and water.

Returning to the front, he tied a rope around the back legs of the dead yak and with Hookfang's help hung it from a tree. Resigned, he began to clean and gut the animal, offering the offal to Hookfang who snapped it up greedily. He left the meat to hang and moved to the barn, pulling out the tools and supplies in case it should collapse. He was about halfway done when the tap on his arm startled him, making him jump and drop the buckets he'd been carrying. Gothi was gesturing toward the house with a smile on her weathered lips.

"Does Mr. Helvig need me?" he asked, trying to calm his heart which had tried to abandon him. Gothi nodded before turning to point at Hookfang and then in the direction of her hut.

"You want Hookfang to take you home?" he guessed. She nodded, looking tired. He sighed. She probably had been the busiest person on Berk since the attack. He called Hookfang over and helped her mount just behind his dragon's horns. He took off his helmet, brushing the sweat from his brow as Gothi situated herself comfortably. He glanced back at the barn. Still, so much to do. A hand on his head startled him and he glanced up to see Gothi smiling down at him.

"What?" he asked uneasily. She didn't say anything, not that she could, but instead ruffled his hair and then patted his cheek. What was she, his grandmother? Not that he remembered much of the old lady he called grandmother as a young boy. He leaned away from her touch. "I don't know what you want."

She shook her head, smiling, and pulled her hand back.

"Look Hookfang will take you home but don't give him any dragon nip this time. I'm going to need his help." She shrugged as if to say 'who me?'

He shook his head. Whatever. Crazy old lady anyway. But she had helped Sigyn. Sigyn! He could see her now. With this thought in mind, he patted Hookfang and hurried back to the house, not watching as Gothi and his dragon vanished. He made his way to the back bedroom where the door was open. Sigyn was thankfully fully clothed and lay in the bed, her father beside her in the chair.

"Ah, Snotlout," her father said, looking up at him with a weary smile. Snotlout stepped into the little room and stood looking down at Sigyn. Her face was pale, washed of most of its color but her expression was a restful one. Gone was the mud and filth of the barn, wiped away with the blood. Her clothes were clean as were the bandages on her arm.

"Was it a bad break?" he asked, motioning to her arm.

"Gothi doesn't think so. She couldn't feel a definite break. She thinks the bone is probably cracked even if, thank Thor, it didn't snap."

"That's good then," said Snolout, sinking to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Gothi has done a good job."

Snotlout frowned as he remembered the old lady's hand on his head. "How were you able to talk to Gothi if you can't see her drawings and she doesn't speak?"

A tired smile passed over Mr. Helvig's face. "She draws the symbols on my hand," he said, holding out his hand, palm up. "It's not perfect, and often she has to repeat it until I get it right, but it's the best we could manage."

"Oh. Any idea when Sigyn will wake up?"

"Within the next day," said Mr. Helvig shrugging. They fell into a silence that stretched on uncomfortably and was only broken by a growl from Mr. Helvig's stomach.

"Mrs. Ingerman sent some soup over this morning if you're hungry."

"Poppy came all the way over here? She's meant to be on bed rest."

"She already had the baby," said Snotlout. "That's where Gothi was when I got her. She sent Shepard with the food."

"Shepard? I haven't seen him around here in a while."

"Do you want some of the soup?"

"Yes," said Mr. Helvig, shaking himself. "That sounds nice. It's been a while since I ate."

Snotlout stood and with one last glance at Sigyn's sleeping face went to prepare the food. He'd just set the bowls on the table and was about to call Mr. Helvig out when he held his tongue. Instead, he went back to the room unsure.

"Do you want me to bring the food in here or…"

"I would prefer the table thank you."

Snotlout stepped closer, coming to stand beside him. It was a bit awkward at first helping a fully grown man move from place to place but Mr. Helvig seemed accustomed to it. After a few awkward moments, they were both situated at the table.

"What can you tell me about the attack?" asked Mr. Helvig, feeling around for his spoon. Snotlout silently slid it under his searching fingers.

"Not much," he said before parroting what he'd heard his mother and Gobber say.

"I see," said Mr. Helvig, between bites. "I'm relieved no one was killed. Still, I can't understand why it happened."

"I wish I knew."

"What about the barn? How bad is it?"

Snotlout described the damage and how he thought it could be repaired.

"I found your yak, Bertha, dead in the rubble. I hope you don't mind but I noticed that besides some bruising on the front legs and neck, the rest of her was unmarred. I hung and gutted her. I didn't want all that meat to go to waste."

"That was sensible. Though I suspect Sigyn will be saddened. What about Todd?"

"He's tied up behind the house. The Ingermans have offered to house him in their barn for the time being."

"That may be for the best."

Snotlout stared down at his half-eaten bowl of soup. Despite his hunger, there was something bothering him even more. It wasn't until he saw Hookfang returning from Gothi's that he was able to vocalize it.

"Back… back there in the barn," he started, unsure how to phrase it. "When I was trying to get Sigyn out… you told me not to use Hookfang. Why?"

"Sigyn has a history with dragons," said her father.

"I figured that much out," said Snotlout. "I mean I could tell she didn't like or trust dragons when I first met her. I've even seen her react badly to some dragons fighting in the village. But last night… that was something different altogether. I thought she at least trusted Hookfang by now. I mean she's ridden him several times. But last night… she was terrified of him, almost terrified of me. I've never seen her that bad."

"She's not told you?"

"No," said Snotlout, pushing a chunk of carrot around the bowl.

"It doesn't surprise me. Still, you ought to know."

"I don't want to know if it will upset her."

Mr. Helvig waved his hand. "No, I don't think it would. I suspect she hasn't told you because speaking about it, remembering it, is difficult for her. But you of all people should know." Snotlout waited as Sigyn's father gathered his thoughts.

"Sigyn has two major fears," he began at last. "Both of those fears stemmed from the same incident from when she was ten."

"I only know about her fear of dragons," said Snotlout, trying to analyze everything he knew about Sigyn.

"She faced both those fears again last night. While you were pulling her out, not only did she face those two fears together, she also faced them in almost the exact same manner."

"What happened to her?"

"Before your cousin tamed his night fury," said Mr. Helvig. "When Sigyn was about ten she was playing in the woods and didn't tell anyone where she was going. She came across an abandoned hut and went to explore it. It was the time of year that the monstrous nightmare dragons were coming into the breeding and nesting season. Sigyn didn't know that the hut was abandoned because it was in an area that the dragons preferred. You see the earth is warm in that area and there is a natural spring. As Sigyn was exploring two male monstrous nightmare dragons came into the clearing and began to fight. She hid in the hut but the fight became so fierce and intense that the dragons brought the old hut down on top of her. She was trapped under the rubble, a leg pinned."

"Thor's hammer," breathed Snotlout, only able to imagine how terrified a ten-year-old Sigyn must have been. Adele would be ten next month and his stomach turned as he thought of his sister trapped in a collapsed hut with aggressive dragons fighting around her.

"Had it been that simple she may have had a better time of it," said her father. "But Sigyn was trapped there for two and a half days."

"Two and a half days?" spluttered Snotlout. Her father nodded.

"No one knew where she had gone. We searched the whole island, or so we thought. By the beginning of the third day, the search party had almost given up hope of finding her alive. But no one had thought to search where the dragons were fighting. No one thought a child would venture there."

"The dragons were still fighting?"

"They were fighting over the nesting area. As you know they are stubborn dragons and the loser kept returning to the spot trying to take it back."

Snotlout fell silent, at a loss for words. Sigyn had been trapped under a collapsed hut with two dragons fighting on top of her for more than two days. She must have spent all that time wondering if she would be found, if the dragons would crush her, if they might set the old hut ablaze. She'd been in pain, trapped, in the cold through the night, unable to call for help without drawing the attention of the dragons. Alone, hurt, unable to move or get away. And then it hit him.

"She's afraid of small spaces isn't she?" he said, glancing back at her sleeping form.

"She is," said her father, resignation in his voice. "Small spaces and dragons; monstrous nightmares in particular."

"How on Earth did I ever get her to ride Hookfang?" he asked in wonder, watching Sigyn's slow breathing.

"Believe me, I've asked myself that many times. I never thought I would know the day Sigyn would be able to face a dragon, let alone ride a monstrous nightmare, yet you and your dragon seem to hold a special place in her heart."

Snotlout was still watching Sigyn, Mr. Helvig's words not quite registering as he watched her frown slightly and then relax again.

"Mr Helvig, I…"

"Call me Torben, Snotlout. You're an adult now, and even if you weren't you have long since earned that right from me. Understood?"

"Yes," he said, heat creeping up his neck. It was still for several long heartbeats.

"Snotlout?" asked Torben.

"Yes?"

"Do you care for my daughter?"

Snotlout frowned at the man. "Of course I do. Why else would I be here? She's one of my…. Well, actually, she is my best friend."

"More so than your fellow riders?" asked the man, his tone surprised.

Snotlout was quiet for a long moment thinking. "Yeah," he admitted. "The other riders are fine, and we usually have each other's backs and even have fun, but… Sigyn, she's better than all of them. Only Hookfang is even close, but it's not the same as Sigyn."

"Because Sigyn is a girl?" asked Torben.

"Because Hookfang's a dragon," he said, feeling slightly confused. "I can't talk to Hookfang like Sigyn. Sure he can listen, and Sigyn's right, he's a very smart dragon, but still…" he trailed off awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"I see," said Toben ruefully, a small but sad smile on his lips. "I suppose I was expecting too much." Snotlout resumed pushing the food around his bowl. Why couldn't he seem to eat? And what was with Torben's odd questions? Stupid really, to ask if he cared about Sigyn after all the time he'd spent here with the both of them.

"Still," continued Torben. "I want to thank you for all you've done."

"It's nothing," said Snotlout, waving him off. "It needed doing and if I didn't someone else would have come to help… eventually."

"That's not what I meant. I want to thank you for all you have done for Sigyn, and I don't mean all the work you have helped her with, or even for being here now. Thank you for coming back after rescuing her from that tree."

"For coming back?" asked Snotlout, unsure.

"In short, thank you for being her friend. You may feel as though she is your best friend, but for Sigyn, you're the only friend she still has. You're the only one who has ever bothered to come back for her for her own sake. She won't admit it but she's quite lonely most of the time. A daughter needs her father, it's true, but young people need peers as well. You not only feed that need and desire for companionship, but somehow you managed to introduce her to Hookfang."

"Yeah, well that's mostly Hookfang's doing," he said, feeling a bit warm.

"I mean it Snotlout," said Torben, drawing Snotlout's full attention. "I'm glad Sigyn won't be alone when I'm gone."

"Gone?"

Torben smiled sadly. "I guess I should have said Sigyn has three fears. She fears the day I will die. She doesn't allow herself to think about it, but we both know my years are probably few. Last winter's sickness was worse than any year before. Gothi can alleviate the symptoms for now, but sometime, probably in the near future, she won't be able to bring me back. Every illness is a step further into the grave for me."

Snotlout sat digesting Torben's words, his glaze sliding between father and daughter. He hated to think of Sigyn in that future.

"Snotlout?" asked Torben, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yes?" he said hesitantly.

"Can I ask something more of you?"

"I guess."

"I want you to promise me to be there when that time comes. I hate to admit it, but since the accident, Sigyn's life has revolved around mine. But when I'm gone, everything will change for her."

"I'm… I'm not very good with that kind of stuff."

"You need only do as you are now. Just be there for her. Be her friend. Don't let the other's forget about her. Don't let her be alone."

"I… I think I can do that. But don't go soon."

Torben chuckled softly. "Would to the Norns that it will be many years. I pray by then she will have found someone to share her life with."

"You mean… like marriage?"

Torban sat across from him, his face in the palm of his hand. "Every father wants to know his daughter is taken care of."

They sat in silence, Snotlout chasing images around his mind, trying to imagine Sigyn married, trying to imagine himself married. As often as he had talked about it or thought about it in passing, he'd never really given it much serious thought. He'd always pictured Astrid as his bride… but somehow that image didn't fit anymore. Was it Hiccup? Maybe everyone was right about those two. But maybe Astrid wasn't the problem. If he were really honest, he was more worried he would simply end up alone.

"Can, I ask you something?" he said, trying to shake himself out of that particularly nasty spiral. Torben nodded. "What exactly was the accident that did this to you?"

"It was a dragon raid."

'

"A dragon did this to you?"

"No, rather the burning house that collapsed on me did. It was one of the more vicious raids and many of the houses were set ablaze. The Larson home was one of them."

"You mean like Gustav Larson. Those Larson's?"

"Yes. Gustav, his mother, and sister had gotten out of the house, but little Hilda had left her stuffed toy inside. She was crying about it. Well, Gustav snuck back in to find it but he didn't come back out again. I went in after him and found him passed out upstairs due to the smoke. Unfortunately, that's when the floor collapsed." Torben paused, gathering his thoughts. "They managed to pull Gustav out quickly, but my hips were pinned under one of the beams. By the time they got the fire put out and freed me I had lost feeling in my legs. A blow to my head had blurred my vision and over the next few months, my world grew darker. Now I hardly see at all, just the very brightest of lights. It wasn't till the following winter we found out about the damage that had been done to my lungs."

Snotlout pushed the cold stew around his bowl. So that's what had happened. Why wasn't he surprised that Gustave had something to do with all this? Trouble seemed to cling to that kid like flies to yak dung. He'd caused, or at least been involved in enough trouble involving the dragon riders. Not that the kid was malicious, just stupid sometimes. That and he had the annoying habit of trying to copy him all the time. It had been flattering at first but had quickly grown annoying and almost creepy.

"How old was Sigyn?"

"Fourteen. Far too young to be thrust into adulthood all at once. It was as thanks and probably apology that Mrs. Larson took Sigyn under her tutelage, teaching her the basics of the tailoring trade." Torben stifled a huge yawn.

"Want me to take you to Sigyn's bed?" asked Snotlout as Torben stretched. "I kind of had to clean it off to find her to clean clothes."

"Why does that not surprise me," said her father with a rueful grin. "If I were only blind and not bound to a chair I would no doubt be constantly tripping over things Sigyn has left out. But no, if you would however take me out to the porch. The chair out there is quite comfortable. If Sigyn is up to it when she wakes perhaps she can move upstairs then. Gothi didn't want her doing anything strenuous but she said walking and movement would be good for her. All except for her harm which is to be kept bound and close to her side."

"Are you alright if I go sit with her after that?" asked Snotlout, trying to hide his own yawn.

"Of course."

----------------------------------------

Unfamiliar footsteps brought Torben out of his snooze. The steps weren't quite heavy enough to be Mrs. Ingerman, not that he expected her, but they also weren't those of Shepherd or Gothi. Curious, he lifted himself straighter in the rocking chair, trying to listen over the wood squeaking with his shifting weight. The faint rasp of scales below the porch told him that Hookfang was aware of the approaching person as well. What surprised him however was the dragon's reaction for he was making that odd sound he sometimes made when Sigyn or Snotlout were near, almost a contented purr. Who besides Snotlout or Sigyn would the dragon be that pleased to see?

"Hello Hookfang," said a vaguely familiar woman's voice. The dragon's contented purr turned to a full-on pleased rumble, and Torben could hear the faint scratch of nails over scales.

"The dragon sure seems to know you," said Torben, leaning forward, unsure who his guest could be. But the moment the woman chuckled he could place her. No wonder Hookfang was so at ease.

"Hookfang ought to know me, considering he and my son are nearly inseparable."

"Hello Freeda," said Torben, relaxing back into his chair. "It's been a long time. Come, take a seat." Her footsteps climbed the stairs and crossed the porch to the other chair.

"I suppose you are looking for Snotlout," said Torben.

"More like confirming a suspicion. He was hardly home long enough to ask about Sigyn before he was off again. When I didn't see him return and his father hadn't seen him report to Stoick I guessed he was still here. And if he hadn't reported to Stoick then he must have had a good reason. I feared you might be in trouble."

"I'm afraid we did indeed have trouble. Sigyn was trapped inside the barn which was brought down on her head. Before Snotlout arrived I feared we were forgotten."

"Well old Gobber's mind is slipping with his age, but I hadn't guessed he would have forgotten you."

"I'm sure there was much for him to consider at the time."

"Perhaps," said Freeda with a dissatisfied grunt. "How is Sigyn? Not too injured I hope."

"She will be alright. Gothi is confident she will recover, although a broken arm will slow her down considerably."

"I should think it would. I'm relieved she will recover. I'm sure Snotlout was beside himself."

"The state of the house would agree with you," said Torben with a faint grin. "Who knew that compulsive cleaning was an inherited trait?"

Freda chucked. "Yes, I'm afraid he may have learned that habit from me. I used to worry so when Stiock and Spitelout would lead the expeditions to hunt the dragons. For months the house would be spotless."

"Loki knows Sigyn could benefit from a bit of that," said Torben. "But who am I to complain?"

"Is Snotlout about?"

"From the snores I heard earlier, I believe he fell asleep in the chair beside Sigyn. He said he was only going to sit for a few minutes but I suspect he's exhausted, especially if, as you say, he only just arrived from Dragon's Edge."

"I brought you some food. May I put it on the table?"

"Please do. I'm sorry you had to hold it all this time."

"Don't worry," she said, the creaking porch telling him of her movements. The front door squeaked and he listened to her move across the room and pause for a long moment before returning to the porch.

"Your guess was correct. He's fallen asleep, leaning forward onto the bed."

"One can hardly blame him for being exhausted."

"I'd almost forgotten how old Sigyn is. She's not that trembling ten-year-old I remember, or even that confused tired 14-year-old."

"No, she's no longer a child. Hasn't been for many years." The squeaking of the chair told him she'd sat again. "But I admit my last memory of Snotlout was of a 13-year-old carrying buckets. I'll have to take Siggy's word that he no longer resembles a troll."

"Oh," said Fredda with a sad chuckle. "That was not his best year, in many ways."

"I know Sigyn has appreciated his company much this past year."

"I'm glad to hear it." There was a long pause. "In a lot of ways Snotlout is very much Spitelout's son," said Freda.

Torben did not need to see her face to hear in her voice that she wanted to say more. "One can hardly help but notice," he said when she didn't immediately continue.

"But," she added hesitantly, "In more subtle and quiet ways he is much more my son."

Torben turned his face toward the sun, the heat of it warming his face though his world remained dark. "Freda, even without my sight I could see that. Why else do you think I would encourage and allow his frequent visits here."

There was an even longer and heavier silence. "Then perhaps you'd like to know something you can't have seen," she said, an odd note in her voice.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Not only is my son asleep beside your daughter's bed but… he is holding your daughter's hand."

Torben leaned back in his chair, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Best friends eh?"