Hitchups: Eluded

A/N: Just a quick note before this first scene... a language that isn't Norse, even if Hiccup can understand it, is going to be "italicized". Carry on!

Eluded

"Fell outta a tree, didja?"

The middle-aged woman gave the frayed tunic a firm shake and held it up before her. Her dark, sharp eyes trailed the edges of the tear, finding no slivers of bark in the strained stitching.

"Yes," the shirtless boy before her said with resolution. His confidence more likely came from knowing what the word meant than confirming his story.

Even without the accent, Winifred Hallows knew this Hiksti character wasn't from around these parts—especially with a name like 'Hiksti'. His skin appeared freshly washed and paler than most males, making him stick out in the peasant-laden village like a bloomed daffodil in winter. He wore a rough, loose sort of hose, which were more commonly found on noblemen, but carried minimal effects. And he traveled in strange, fur-lined boots.

She threw the tunic back at him, which he caught in deft fingers. Hiccup stared at her, bewildered, and wondered if she was rejecting his offer because she thought he lied.

"I'll make ya' a new one," she said curtly. "I noticed yer sleeves were falln' a little short there. You can put that back on and I'll have one for ya' tomorrow."

Hiccup made no move to do as she said, still bearing the same shocked expression. The woman looked exasperated.

"Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" she said, slowly.

"Yes," said Hiccup, and as though to prove his point he began to throw the tunic over his head.

"Is that the only word you know?"

Hiccup knew the word 'tailor', which he repeated to several villagers before enough fingers pointed him to the right hut. Though small, the living quarters of the woman who introduced herself as Winifred was filled with lines of fabric, piles of yarn, and a spinning wheel. He immediately knew he came to the right place, even if the seamstress was a little rough around the edges.

He smiled at her and pointed to the kettle she had situated in the center of the small room.

"Can you...build...no. Can you make it color...?"

She looked between him and the kettle. "You want it dyed?"

Hiccup nodded.

"Black?"

"Blehck," he repeated, trying out the word on his tongue. He thought it funny how just that morning he had been reaffirming the same word to Toothless, and now here he stood learning the word himself in a different language.

"I mean...most wouldn't want...well, if you're willing to pay extra, then sure."

"I vill pay you, vell," Hiccup assured her whilst patting the sack of coins tied to his recently adorned belt. The silver pieces jingled tantalizingly, and he suspected he carried more money than a village of this class had seen in one bag.

"See to it that you do," she said, putting up her hardest face. It wasn't easy being a widow in these times (thank the good Lord she had a skill to help her get by), and she wasn't going to add being swindled by a foreign merchant to her strife. Especially if he brought trouble. Sure, he seemed harmless at a glance, but for someone like him—a mere boy—to be traveling alone in these parts, and then lying about how his clothes ripped of all things, clearly pointed to a deviant nature.

As though sensing her suspicious thoughts, Hiccup decided to take his leave. He was getting a whole new tunic out of this, and she said she could be done by the next day, so he wouldn't push his luck and antagonize her with his presence.

Before he took another step towards the door, Hiccup recalled Toothless' earlier comments.

He turned back to the tailor and asked, "To you haeff foot... builders...?"

Winifred stared at the stranger.

"Foot builders?"

The boy kicked out a foot in front of him and jabbed his finger at it.

"They harr being...fery behd," he supplied and Winifred immediately noticed the dismal state of the heavy-duty shoes. It clicked.

"The cobbler!" she could have laughed at the things coming out of this boy's mouth. "'Course kid. The Lord's manor's down that way," Winifred pointed west, "—shoemaker's just outside the walls. Does all the nobility's foot dressings. And I expect you'll be wanting some more of those fancy foot things ya got on now?"

She talked too fast for Hiccup to really get what she was trying to say to him, but he understood the pointed finger well.

"Zank you," he said, heading out for real this time. "I vill come behck tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, you just make sure you come back with that money pouch."

"Yes!" Hiccup called over his shoulder. He left the establishment—if it could be called such—and headed towards the direction of the shoemaker.

As he walked his mind wandered, and he realized he couldn't keep his thoughts away from his conversation with Toothless—the war in particular.

He could see the reasoning for both sides—demon excluded—and knew that fault could be forgiven and held over the humans and the dragons. It was a war—of course there was not right side. Furthermore, he and Toothless held no particular responsibility to either of their races (especially since there were no other Night Furies in the web). He had nothing to feel repentant about for choosing to enjoy his own time first.

The war had been sustaining itself for the last three centuries; both sides would be fine without their help for a while. As long as the dragons continued to provide the demon with food they would survive, and be none the wiser at that. And the Vikings...well the Vikings loved to fight. Hiccup could almost say they wouldn't want to be rescued if it meant taking away an excuse to lop heads off.

In a way, learning the truth behind the war erased much of the guilt he carried about leaving. Sure, to his village he'll still look like the traitor who ran off with the dragons, but at least now he knew it wasn't the wrong choice. He knew he didn't betray his race for one that had mercilessly killed humans. He knew that, not culturally, but morally, he was still in the right. And for now, knowing was enough for his conscious.

Maybe if he and Toothless did manage to get rid of the demon, and they stopped the war, he would be able to talk to his dad without getting shot down on the spot...

The hair on the back of Hiccup's neck stood on end as he felt the stares of the villagers follow his every move. He subtly adjusted his cloak to his cover his left shoulder, further concealing the money and bringing the dagger at his right side to visibility with every other step. He wanted to discourage any kind of trouble, and from the many eyes that followed him it wouldn't be hard to attract it.

Knowing the people of Wessex were too suspicious and superstitious for Hiccup to waste any time dawdling, he picked up his speed, intent on getting to the shoemaker without aggravating anyone.

After all, he had a long history of being incapable of crossing a town without ruining someone's day.

######## ########

::You don't look any different:: Toothless commented when Hiccup appeared later. While the human was gone, he had moved to a more open area outside of the forest and had curled up on a sun-heated rock for a nap. To him, hardly any time passed between Hiccup leaving and Hiccup returning.

"I'm picking up my stuff tomorrow," the boy answered. "Then we can leave tomorrow night."

Toothless snorted as his way of agreeing to the plan and placed his head back on the ground. Hiccup began hopping boulders to get to Toothless' perch. He swore when he stubbed his toe after a miscalculated jump.

"Hey," Hiccup started as he pulled off his boot to rub his foot, "you're nocturnal right? You said Night Furies avoided the sun and that you had to learn to live with it."

::Yeah?:: Toothless prompted, though it sounded like he had an idea as to where this was going.

"But you seem to like the sun quite a bit..." Hiccup sounded teasing.

Toothless rolled his eyes and dropped his head back on the ground.

::My kind were always regaled with tales of how our scales would shrivel up and our bodies would burn until nothing was left if the sun's heat every touched us. I know now it was a rouse to keep the blue ones from straying from the drove::

Hiccup kept on smiling.

::It's alright, I suppose:: Toothless admitted gruffly.

"You like it."

::Shut up. You didn't bring me any fish::

"Whoops," Hiccup said, and he sounded somewhat sincere in his regret. "I kind of wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. People aren't too friendly with strangers, and the fact that I was prancing around from craft-master to craft-master with no visible trade...well, I think it was obvious I was carrying money somewhere."

:: Did anyone follow you?::

Hiccup leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

"Not today."

######## ########

"It's not the same type of wool your other one was made of, but it'll do it's job."

"It is fine," Hiccup assured the seamstress. "I like it mahch."

He dropped three silver pieces into her grubby palm and for the first time since they met he saw her smile, revealing dimly stained and crooked teeth. Her face, like every other face he had come across lately, was smudged with many months worth of dirt. Hiccup had quickly come to learn that Saxons and the like rarely bathed. He didn't understand it, but this wasn't his country so he wouldn't say anything. She probably thought he was some sort of vagabond nobility sneaking around. She wouldn't be too far from the truth.

Winifred dropped the money in the front pocket of her apron.

"You a merchant?" she asked, looking skeptical despite the smile, like she still couldn't get over how young and solitary he appeared. "Merchant business is dangerous. I hope you're not wandering about alone."

Hiccup smiled, because he knew smiling was understood in all languages.

"No. Jahst trehfeler. I'm tough." He made a muscle to emphasize his declaration, liking the way he hardly felt a pull from the new tunic. The woman laughed sharply. The boy looked like he was only growing up and not out.

"Sure, sure. You be careful out there," she bid him.

"Thank you!" Hiccup was getting good with accenting that particular word correctly.

He already had picked up the moccasins; giving his toes lots of coveted wiggle room and steps that were less pained. The cobbler had seemed quite interested in the style of his shoes and asked to keep his old ones as a reference for further improvements on his trade. Hiccup had no problem with this, especially since it knocked down the original price to one silver piece.

Hiccup began his walk down to the port to fetch a treat for Toothless, observing the ships and people and enjoying the briny taste of the air. There were about five ship at the dock, and only cogs at that. Still, he reckoned this was a bit of a wealthier area, having the advantage of being seaside and therefore more open for trade.

He rolled by wooden boxes of freshly caught fish, bypassing anything remotely long and slimy, and finally topped in front of some fat looking herring. He could try to fish himself further down the coast but the herring was right there, and he was feeling quite lazy. An afternoon of speaking English exhausted him.

Besides, these waters had quite a few eels and he'd probably end up smelling like them before he caught anything Toothless would eat.

Oh! That's what he would ask Toothless about next: his ridiculous aversion to eels!

A sudden, strong breeze pushed his hair around his face and brought a chill through his cloak. The sound of waves slapping against the rocks and sand increased in frequency and volume. Hiccup looked out to the sea, out to the blackened waters that foretold of a storm in the next couple of days, and felt something disquieting about the way the shadows moved beneath the water. He felt...watched, almost. Like something—

A dog barked close to his side, shocking him from his reverie with a small cry of alarm. The animal's short pointed ears were pressed down and its hackles raised. Black gums were revealed as its lip curled high above slobbery teeth. Hiccup took a step back as the dog continued to verbally attack him.

An elderly fellow followed behind the noisy animal. His leathery, weather-beaten skin exposed a life lived on those very shores.

"Odd. He's usually real friendly, even with strangers," the man remarked. He scratched at his chin and narrowed his eyes at the foreigner.

"Huh," Hiccup made a noncommittal noise. The dog's barking and growling was starting to attract more of that borderline-hostile attention he despised. Not to mention the consistency of the racket had begun to grate on his nerves.

"Zree, please," he said, gesturing to the box of fish and holding out the satchel he brought with him.

The man stared at him a moment longer, the dog's barking and the tremulous waters becoming nothing more than background noise. Hiccup felt his unease at the situation steadily increase. The weight of the stares closed in on him, overwhelming and suffocating. And above it all, he felt a presence about this area—dangerous and oppressing—further enclosing him in the tunneled, surreal feeling of being surrounded and singled out all at once.

And then the old man moved, breaking the spell as he collected three fish and deposited them roughly in Hiccup's bag. Clearly he didn't trust anyone his dog didn't. Hiccup handed the man a coin, more than ready to get the Hel out of there.

He walked quickly towards the edge of the town, the dog continuing to bark at his back. He'd never elicited such a reaction from an animal before; usually, his "unvikingly" kind disposition warmed animals to him.

It must have been the scent of a Night Fury, he realized. That dog probably associated him with a dragon. He was comforted by the thought, and began to relax his shoulders.

Something splashed loudly and the side of his face unexpectedly became wet. He stopped walking and automatically turned to the ocean. He was too far from the water for it to be a simple spray of the waves, and he moved fast enough so that no people were nearby. He took a step closer and peered at the channel. The water moved oddly...the waves colliding in opposite directions in some parts, as though something besides the wind was disturbing the sea...

######## ########

Toothless lifted his head from his crisscrossed paws, his nose held high in the air as a concerning scent assaulted him. He knew this scent: the sickly, oily smell of a thousand eels. It penetrated the air like a sharp arrow, ruining any chance for a nice snooze.

The most worrying part was that it came from the village...where his boy was.

He abruptly stood, ears back and pupil thinned. Before he could rush into the trees something else blindsided his senses. Something approaching that was quick, hurried, and short of breath.

"Toothless!"

::Hiccup?::

More cracking and crunching ensued, and Hiccup's distinctive scent (accented by fish) became clear moments before the boy burst out of the trees. He looked a little harried, but he was smiling.

"Toothless! We gotta go!" he yelped, rushing towards his belongings and throwing everything together in his bag. Toothless absently noticed he had on new boots and a dark tunic that was far baggier than his last shirt.

::What's going on?:: Toothless asked, feeling rather alarmed. Was it a monster? A dragon? Was it that thing he sensed not moments ago?

"We're being followed," Hiccup grinned. Toothless couldn't understand why the boy looked like he was ready to burst into giggles. "They'll be here any moment! Come'on!"

::Who's they?:: Toothless demanded, but almost as soon as the words left him he heard the faint crashing of two burly humans approaching gracelessly through the forest.

"I told you—sit still!—I told you people were suspicious of me!" Hiccup said as he began to secure the saddle on Toothless. "They know I have money and they know I don't look like I can put up much of a fight. Easy target."

::And they don't know you just led them to a dragon:: Toothless added wryly.

"Ha, ha! Nope!" Hiccup swung himself onto the saddle. "Let's fly!"

They took off and not a moment too soon. If the wind from the powerful beats of Toothless' wings didn't stop the two emerging Saxons in their tracks, then the mere sight of a dragon taking to the sky was.

"Woah! What the bleedin' devil—?"

"Christ! He transformed 'imself into a monster!"

"Nay! Nay! He's right there! He's riding it!"

"Witchcraft, it is!"

Hiccup looked behind him, down at the diminishing Earth where the two men were grounded, staring horrified at the sky and screaming obscenities.

"Better luck next time!" Hiccup called behind him in Norse and he laughed loudly. It was still light out, and they were too close to the village not to be spotted by others before they reached the clouds, but nothing could catch them over the sea.

Nothing could catch them, period.

######## ########

This time of year showed a lively, bustling Berk, with Vikings rushing to and fro, doing their part to prepare for a long and cold winter. Sheep were being shaved and warm blankets sewn. Crops were sowed and cows were slaughtered. Trees were hacked down and divvied into piles and piles of firewood. No Viking was exempt from helping in these times.

Not even the elderly with their creaky bones and aching joints.

"Amma! Amma!"

Berk's esteemed and beloved Elder pulled away from the medicinal herbs she had been arranging and smiled beatifically at her granddaughter. The little brunette scampered over the last hill, hopping over rocks and potholes as though each movement were part of a game known only to children.

"Do you know what today is?" she asked as she reached the woman, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. She smiled, big and wide, bearing proudly the holes of several missing teeth.

The Elder planted a fist on each hip. "I'm not so old as to forget my own granddaughter's eighth birthday!"

The girl giggled and seemed to stand up straighter. The odd, braided pigtails stuck straight out on her head; up and forward to imitate a bull's horns. The girl's hair was so thick they could be directed anywhere.

"So what are you doing now?" she asked with all the curiosity of a proper eight year old.

"Well," the Elder began kindly, "I've just gathered all the herbs I think I'll need to survive the winter and I'm separating them so I can dry them out and preserve them. Do you recognize any of them?"

The girl skipped up to the worktable and observed the piles of stems and leaves. "Hmm, I don't think so."

"An eight-year-old would know," the Elder teased. That kicked her youngest grandkid into gear. The girl pointed to a purplish-stemmed, red-flowered plant.

"That's mugwort!"

The older of the pair squinted down at the child. Of all the things to pick, she named the herb used for flavoring ale.

"You guessed, didn't you?"

The girl stuck her bottom lip out stubbornly. "You can't prove anything!"

The Elder threw her head back and laughed. Rarely did she get to laugh these days.

"You remind me much of myself at your age, dear one," she praised, patting the child on the head. The girl looked delighted at such an acclaim.

"Do you think I'll be the village Elder, someday?"

"If you live long enough."

"Mother says I'm stubborn. And everyone knows stubborn people don't die!" the girl said, resolutely.

"Someday, when you are older, I will explain to you how wrong that is," the Elder said, dryly. "You will also need to be very knowledgeable. You would certainly need to be able to recognize all these plants."

The child looked momentarily horrified at the nearly unrecognizable array of foliage. She worried over such a task for a moment before facing her grandmother.

"Would having dreams make me an Elder?"

"Well that depends on the sort of dream you're having and how well you can read the signs," the Elder explained. She knew her grandchild was referring to the shaman abilities many Elders of past had shown.

"I had the strangest dream last night," the girl went on. "There was a boy and there was a giant eel! And the boy was in the eel's mouth, but the boy didn't feel afraid. I even sort of felt excited when I woke up!"

"That is a strange dream," the Elder agreed. She began to separate the herbs once more, a smile fixated on her face. Trust a simple conversation with a child to brighten one's day.

"He looked a lot like the boy who left," the girl continued. "The chief's son."

The Elder hissed and automatically drew her thumb to her mouth. Since when did chervil have damnable thorns on the stems? She brought her thumb before her eyes and looked at the minimal damage.

"Are you okay Amma?" the little girl cried out after sighting the pinprick of blood beading from the rough pad.

The woman hardly seemed to be listening.

"Yes...yes...a strange dream indeed..." the Elder murmured. She turned to the young girl—so full of innocence—and placed a hand on her shoulder. "But I think it would be best if you only spoke to me of these dreams."

The girl smiled, knowing nothing but trust at her age.

"Okay Amma!"