Hitchups: Timed

Timed

Within one of the lodgings stippling the rocky knolls of Berk, protected from the raging storm by thick wooden walls, an aged woman started to full consciousness. She lay there for a moment, listening to her own heartbeat thunder alongside the rapid tempo of raindrops pelting against the side of her hut. So abrupt was her waking that she spent her first deep breaths trying to grasp why she had suddenly roused in the dead of night. Had she been dreaming?

She glanced, bleary-eyed, around her unlit room. Dried herbs she bundled earlier that day appeared in an instant, pale flash before darkness overcame again.

She realized, just before the delayed roll of thunder rattled her collection of glass heirlooms, that the most likely culprit would be the clamorous tempest that took Berk at eventide.

"Thor must be throwing a tantrum again," she rasped to herself. She closed her eyes, intent on sleeping through the storm, no matter what.

And then she heard it.

"Amma!"

Though muffled from behind the door to her chambers, and dampened by the howls of Orvandil, she recognized the voice as her granddaughter's. She struggled to rise from her bed, her old joints even more disagreeable than usual, with the soggy weather endowed to them.

Before her socked feet could touch the floor her door opened with a bang. A small, wailing form careened across the room and into her lap.

"Amma!" the little brunette blubbered, snot and tears mixing above her lip. "Amma—A-Amma...I-I—he—"

"Shh, child," she hushed, pulling the girl close to her bosom. "Shh...tell Amma what's wrong. Is it the storm that frightens you?"

The girl shook her head wildly, opening her mouth to answer, but only harsh hiccups emerged, jarring the tiny frame.

"Shh," the elder repeated. "Take a breath, a slow breath; calm your mind. Like I taught you."

The soon-to-be nine-year-old nodded, and the Elder patiently waited for her shaking form to still; a gnarled hand pet the thick hair with practiced pressure meant for soothing. If it was not the storm that drove her normally fearless grandchild into her arms (and over her own mother), then it could only be "the secret".

A year passed since she first learned of her granddaughter's dreams, and so far she had convinced the youngster to only confide in her when they happened. It was not often, but it did happen. And each time the Elder became more and more sure that her grandchild would be destined to take her place as the village's Gyðja.

"It was him," the girl whispered hoarsely and the Elder did not have to ask who 'him' was; her legacy only seemed to dream of one man. "He's...he's...he's dead!"

The last word was shouted, her voice out of control, and then the child broke down sobbing again.

The Elder stared into the shadowed space overhead, absently hugging the girl tighter to her heavily shawled body while her mind processed all this could imply.

The girl could not find the usual comfort in the warmth of her grandmother's embrace, and started to explain what she experienced in disjointed sentences.

"They hit him—I saw it—hit him! The axe! They hit him and it went right through—there was blood and a dragon and I was so scared! It was so loud and they were scared and angry and I felt that!"

"Hush now, love," the Elder instructed, doting and tender in her command. "Dreams are easily misinterpreted. Look at me." She leaned back as much as her stiff spine would allow and hooked the side of her finger under her granddaughter's chin, tilting the small face up to meet her gaze. Another bolt of lightning flickered through the cracks of her shuttered window, giving her a brief view of wide eyes and shining, trembling cheeks.

"Nothing is final," she spoke quietly, her voice heard through the overhead thunder as they broached a topic only they knew of. "What you saw was horrible, I believe that, and one as young as you should not have seen it. But nothing is final. You saw him struck, but you did not see him die. Is very important that you know this."

The girl sniffled loudly and the Elder could feel a heartbeat too large for such a tiny thing battering against its cage.

"He's not dead?"

"Nay," the Elder pacified, softly. "I do not believe he is. He is nearly as stubborn as you, wouldn't you agree?"

"And stubborn people don't die," the girl added, a shaky smile upon her formerly pouted mouth.

"Go back to sleep," Elder commanded, stroking the wild brown strands back from the tear-streaked face. "You will feel better in the morning, you will see."

The child reluctantly pulled away, turning to the door. She stared at the half-ajar entryway, leading into the darkness where her own room, also occupied by her mother, lie. She then turned her eyes to her grandmother's bed, inviting with warmed sheets and her beloved Amma. Without further thought on the matter she clambered over the mass of furs and wool and burrowed into a space just fit for her body.

The Elder raised a faded brow at this but settled down herself, much slower and with far more physical strife than her granddaughter seemed to suffer.

"It will be okay?" the Elder heard her granddaughter ask, accompanied by short, warm puffs of air ghosting across her ear. She knew this did not involve asking permission to sleep in her bed.

"Aye. You will see."

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

Hiccup coughed out a mouthful of dirt, making a face at the grains clinging to the roof of his mouth.

He was on the ground, belly down. Toothless wasn't under him. Toothless wasn't anywhere near him.

Hiccup lifted his head, glancing around where he could, and realized no one was there. He was still in the Hippodrome, but it was empty, barren, no spectators, no Væringjar, and no Toothless.

He pushed himself to his feet, easily, using both arms. Nothing registered as weird until he began to brush off his pants using both hands. He froze, and, looking down, spent a moment trying to fathom why his arm suddenly was no longer broken.

Then he realized...

"You are determined to kill yourself."

Hiccup figured out what must have happened just before Gudrid spoke, and so, for the first time, he did not react with stupefaction. He calmly turned to find the woman sitting in one of the bottom stands, like she were a member of the vanished audience.

"Gudrid..."

"Sit," she said. She sounded tart, as if she struggled not to be upset with him. Hiccup obeyed, approaching her while attempting to interpret the odd emotion on her face. She did not look disappointed, thank the gods; he hated seeing that directed at him.

Even so, she certainly did not look happy.

"It is fortunate that I am young—for any older and I would be liable to heart attacks trying to watch over you." She said this just as stiffly, looking at him through narrowed eyes as he lowered himself to the stone bench.

"Sorry," he muttered, glancing down at his lap. He found it difficult to settle his nerves and mind. He felt jumpy, like he expected some half-remembered agony to return at any moment, or he should be in some sort of hurry—experiencing the same rush he suffered only moments ago—when he knew time stood still here. His body was here, but his emotions and sense were taking a while to catch up from the harrowing experience.

"Do not apologize," Gudrid sighed, tucking back some errant bangs. "You cannot help the way you are."

"I take it I made it in time?" he prompted, giving the empty Hippodrome a look around. Now that desperation and fear weren't consuming his every thought, he could finally admire the artful architecture. Dynamic and Greek; a beautiful shield for ugly activities.

He did not notice Gudrid's ire die down as she continued to stare at his profile, just now realizing that he wasn't quite with her.

"Oh yes," she answered him. "Toothless was not struck down."

A small smile flitted onto Hiccup's face, and after everything that happened the pull of the muscles felt foreign to him. He did something right, for once. He managed to save his friend, if only for a little while. Maybe his sacrifice gave Toothless the strength to fight back. Or maybe they had killed Toothless anyway, and they would manage to find each other again somewhere in the next world.

Although selfish of him to think so, a part of Hiccup was relieved he could go before his best friend. Matters of physical prowess aside, Hiccup knew he would not take the loss of the dragon very well. Especially compared to Toothless should the reverse happen; the dragon seemed to have far more control over his emotions.

But this...this he could handle. He felt a calm acceptance of his fate take hold of him. He got them into this mess, unintentional execution sounded all right to him. He even got to see Gudrid one last time.

"So where was I hit?" he finally asked. Nothing hurt on him, so it was hard to pinpoint what took the blow. It could have been his head, his neck, just an arm...

"I would not want to spoil such a surprise upon your waking," she had turned teasing, but the easygoing nature was lost on him.

"Wake...wait—what?" He turned in his seat to face her, fully attentive. "I'm alive?"

Her lips quirked. "You certainly are. As is Toothless."

"I..." This sounded too good to be true. Surreal. He had an easier time embracing death. "How do you—?"

"I've already spoken to Toothless," she responded to his unfinished question. He continued to stare at her, brows furrowed, hardly blinking. She held back a giggle at his bewildered face, knowing the energy would be better used in explaining more to him. "When you are both in a state of deep unconsciousness, I can reach him as well. This was the first time I have managed it; it becomes easier as your bond grows deeper. The bridge connecting you two is quite substantial to me now."

"Ah...yeah," Hiccup mumbled, only half listening as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept of both he and Toothless surviving thus far. "The bond of...understanding, right?

"Blind faith," Gudrid corrected. "But understanding was the string which tied you. Which is one of the reasons why we are here."

"Another bond?" Hiccup ventured. His mind seemed to pick up speed once more, as if some unanimous ruling in his head decided to forgo trying to reason out surviving and pay attention to the vördr.

Gudrid nodded, her eyes shining. "Yes. You've created a new bond, you and he. You both proved that you were willing to do so much more than trust one another; you were both ready to die for one another."

Hiccup hummed, agreeing to the truth in the statement, but thinking it was silly to make such a big deal out of it. Sure, trusting a creature considered your enemy was one thing, but willing to die for your best friend only seemed natural.

"So it just happened?" he asked. "Just now? We get another bond, just like that?"

"Bonds never just happen. They are just realized." Hiccup narrowed his eyes at her words, only half following the cryptic logic. Gudrid huffed, exasperated. "Had you not noticed your personalities bleeding into one another?"

Hiccup shook his head and Gudrid knew she should have expected his characteristic obliviousness to his and Toothless' relationship.

"Your influence over each other is greater than picking up simple habits. What started out as faith turned into sympathy, and sympathy turned into love. You are brothers. Matched beings, molding your souls into one another so that you've become two pieces of a whole."

Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair, noting, with some flighty part of his mind, how ridiculously long it had gotten.

"Why is it us?" he asked, partly to her and partly audible musings. "We're not the first to trust someone weird or...or save someone they love. Why are we getting these bonds and...and perks?"

He could hear the words she spoke, he understood them, but none of them sounded new or shocking. He knew all of this, on some level; he already accepted, long ago, that a life without Toothless was no life at all.

Gudrid pulled his hand away from the tangled, auburn strands, and sandwiched it between two of her small ones. If she aimed for Hiccup's full attention, she failed; he could only stare, bemusedly, at how both her hands could not conceal one of his own, and how soft her skin felt against his rough, bow-calloused digits. He experienced an odd, instant moment of vertigo, where he didn't know what was real.

"Humans do create these bonds...with other humans," Gudrid started to explain, hoping to get Hiccup's attention back to the matter at hand and off their hands. "You would not notice sharing a lifespan or increased understanding with a bond-sharer when you are of the same breed. But those of similar intelligence, separated by species, are far less likely to create bonds with each other."

He met her eyes. "Because they're so different?"

"Too different to relate. Too similar to be trusted. Reason without communication almost always leads to dangerous misunderstandings. You and Toothless looked past similarities and differences, and it was that decision, on both your parts, that led to where you are now."

Hiccup turned his gaze back to their hands, watching, almost detachedly, as his fingers curled over her top hand and his thumb gently brushed her skin, feeling more curious than bold. He did not look for a reaction, but she did not take her hand from him so it must have been okay.

He felt the muted sensation of his heart leaping into his throat, and yet—it didn't feel like it was his.

"So this new bond...we become more like one another?"

"This is where it get's complicated," Gudrid began, sobering. "I spoke with Toothless. The bond you two have forged entails sharing life. Not just being together, but life itself."

Hiccup moved his lower jaw from side to side in a subtle motion, working through his feelings on the subject. "Toothless is going to live ages longer than me. I know this. It's...it's okay, I guess."

Gudrid tightened her hold on his hand, pulling it into her lap. He looked at her face, a sad-happy expression moving across her delicate features.

"It is the bond of devotion. You are connected by love. And I do not mean that of a lover or of family. It is almost a love of self, which is rather ironic as it is based on altruistic actions. You can no longer fathom life without one another, and you will disregard your own wellbeing to see him live. And a part of you will always do it for yourself, because you find it more and more difficult to see yourself as separate beings."

"We selfishly try to keep the other alive?" he tried to sum up. It sounded ridiculous, almost insulting, but, at least on Hiccup's part, it sounded true. Unselfishly selfish. Selfishly unselfish. That sounded like love to him.

Gudrid inclined her head, wanting to appear encouraging at his understanding, but still uncertain of how long his reception would hold out.

"As I said before, you are now two pieces of a whole. Which leads me to...an option, of sorts."

"What kind of option?" Hiccup wondered, slow and cautious. In the few times he met her, he never knew Gudrid as one to beat around the bush.

"A bond such as this can shift destiny and fate, those of the same breed grow old together—a shared lifespan. It does not seem out of place or odd. Even between man and beast, it has happened."

Dawning reached Hiccup in a cold wash. "But man and dragon..."

"Exactly."

It wouldn't work, Hiccup realized, for him and Toothless to share such a bond. It did not just defy destiny or fate or whatever life-altering force there was out there—it defied nature.

Before he could work himself into a pit of disappointment, Gudrid moved his captured hand from her lap to her chest, right over her heart. She succeeded in stopping the downward spiral of his thoughts, and almost managed to capture his full attention, but on the way to her face his eyes rested on her clothed bosom. He could feel her heartbeat.

So alive.

"I spoke to Toothless," she repeated again, as though reminding him of something he needed to realize on his own; a very important fact. "This bond will hold for you two as well."

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, gradually pulling them away from the pile of hands and meeting her own, slate gaze.

"How?"

Gudrid decided she had to be blunt about it.

"He will cut his lifespan in half, and yours will lengthen to meet his end. Your aging will slow, his will quicken—Hiccup listen to me," she said sternly. He was shaking his head, his eyes no longer quite focused. He tugged for his hand back, but she would not relinquish it. She needed him to listen.

"No, that's just, he can't—you can't do that to him—"

"Toothless," she announced the name strong and clear, the one word that would get through to him. "It was his idea for you two to grow old, together. He created this plan. He wants to do it."

Hiccup's half-hearted struggles died down as the constant wrenching of his emotions being began to take its toll.

"Toothless said he can't create unknowns," he whispered. Nothing made sense anymore.

Gudrid had that sad smile again, like she was both happy and hurt for them.

"He couldn't. Until he bonded with you."

The oddest part—weirder than finding out he survived a direct axe strike, or that he was bonded to a dragon in more ways than he ever could with a human, or that he was attracted to some Odin-appointed warden for his soul—was that Gudrid's words slammed him with a baffling upsurge of emotion that caught in his throat like he swallowed a bola-ball.

He wouldn't cry, of course. Not in front of a girl, and not in front of Gudrid—even if she wasn't quite real. So he said nothing for a long while, squinting at their hands, until he was sure he could control his upended emotions.

"This is something that would need your consent, of course," Gudrid cautioned when they were both sure he wouldn't break down. Hiccup wondered why he even bothered to hide anything from someone who knew his soul.

He bit his bottom lip, feeling frustrated with his options, and turned on Gudrid with a new intensity.

"How could I consent to something like that? How could you ever think I would take half of—"

"The bond Hiccup," she reminded him with astounding patience. "Think of the bond, and put yourself in Toothless' position."

And Hiccup did, because he was too exhausted to continue fighting something he didn't understand. If the roles were reversed, and he knew he would be forced to live hundreds of years without Toothless...then he would gladly shorten his lifespan. It was the quality, not the quantity, which mattered to him.

Somewhere in his mind a callous truth niggled, demanding to be realized. If Toothless had not bonded with a human, he would not have to give up part of his life.

Perhaps Hiccup's real issue lie in believing Toothless found him to be worth it.

How had it come to this? How had he not realized the magnitude of his dependence on Toothless—not as a protector or provider, but as a companion? As his other half?

"You don't have to decide now," Gudrid said gently, attempting to soothe the aggravation out of him with words. "Think it over, talk with Toothless about it. Confront him, if you must..."

At the reminder that he would see Toothless again, that they were not dead and that their journey was not over, lightened Hiccup's heavy heart to some degree.

"Yeah...okay, yeah...I'll...I'll talk to him."

He would yank on those ear plates until the dragon told him what the Hel he was thinking!

Hiccup brought his other hand to his hair, running his fingernails along his scalp. He and Toothless were okay now, and that's what mattered. He couldn't worry about the far future or when they would die; especially when he was lollygagging in some sort of dream world.

"So...so was that your message? The bond and the—the life-sharing thing?"

"Eager to be rid of me?" she teased.

"I, no, I just—"

"Just want to see Toothless, I know."

"You know too much," he muttered, glancing about the Hippodrome once more. "So what else is there? Not another bond?"

"No, not another bond." She released his hand from her iron hold and he slowly brought it back to rest on his knee. "I told you before, did I not, that the gods had a plan for you?"

Hiccup pursed his lips, showing exactly how he felt about that subject.

"Yeah," he said shortly.

"You are a hero."

Hiccup closed his eyes at those words.

There were heroes who did brave things and were admired by their friends. Then there were Heroes who were bred, and planned, and eventually led into glorious deaths.

Being labeled a 'Hero' by someone working for the gods implied a lot, and not to his favor.

"I'm not quite sure how to feel about that," Hiccup responded with honesty.

"Thor has taken an interest in you," Gudrid mentioned easily as if they were engaged in casual conversation.

"Thor?" Hiccup scoffed, sparing her a glance from the corner of his eye and then returning to his scrutiny of some graffiti along the spina. "Of every god out there, I would think he'd be the least likely to look in my direction. I mean...I'm, I'm..."

He wasn't a big, brawny, hammer-swinging Viking, that's for sure.

"You have a cunning that he envies and admires, and a desire to protect mankind regardless of any disadvantage you find yourself at. You are the man who makes his own rules. You are the man who everyone will notice, and no one will forget. And you are the man who will wield Framherja. It has already been decided."

Hiccup had a nice counter argument building in his mind that went to pieces in those last, dissonant sentences. His face screwed, wrinkling his nose slightly, and he shifted his full attention back to Gudrid. "Framherja? What—?"

She offered a bow to him. The most beautifully crafted weapon he had ever laid eyes on, of pure gold and powerful allure. It made the Greek architecture of the Hippodrome look like a lean-to in comparison. Trefoil knots, fine and impossibly blended, danced along the curved limbs. A string of gold pulled taught between grooves. An unreal aura illuminated their features with a rich light no flame could ever hope to match.

"What...what is this?" he breathed. An irrational fear of moving too suddenly in its presence overcame him. This was unearthly. This was a weapon not meant to be handled by man.

"This is Framherja—daughter to Mjöllnir, borne from a spark of its strike, forged by the sons of Ivaldi. She is yours to wield."

Mine. Mine?

"Provided you use her to protect mankind," Gudrid continued. "And you must never, never use her against a god."

Hiccup nodded, numb and almost too intimidated to touch it. Mjöllnir, Thor's hammer. It came from Thor's hammer. This was an instrument from the gods. And it was being offered to him.

His hand reached out, trembling slightly. What if this was a trick? A test that would lead to unspeakable punishments if he failed?

But before he could retract the fingers wavering so close to its gleaming riser, some otherworldly force sucked his open hand to the solid metal, forcing it to curl and mold against the golden limb.

He did not notice Gudrid completely release it to him, or how he brought it closer to his person in careful movements. He could only focus on how perfectly it fit into his grasp and how impossibly weightless a weapon of solid gold could be. It hummed against his palm, warm and alive.

Alive like Gudrid's heartbeat.

He unexpectedly felt connected, less alone. Able to see, to realize, that other worlds beyond this life were only a step away if the direction was just pointed out.

He couldn't hear how heavy his breathing became as his body and mind fixated on only this weapon. Framherja.

"I...I don't..."

"It will be your duty to learn her power, to bring her to her full potential, and to let her bring you to yours," Gudrid explained, smiling at the overwhelming awe on the young man's face. "But I remind you: she is for human protection—not to be wielded against the gods. Do you understand?"

"Yes. But, I still don't..." He didn't know why. Why was he getting this? Was it because of his and Toothless' bond? Did he entertain the gods that much? Or was he the sort of hero he feared Gudrid implied him as...the one being herded to a glorified death?

He settled the weapon across his legs, his hands unable to keep themselves from tracing the designs, his eyes unable to tear away from its ethereal glow.

"What am I supposed to do?" he half whispered. "How can I use this if it's here? When I wake up—"

"She will be right besides you," Gudrid assured him. "As will Toothless. Hiccup, it will be okay. This is just a gift. You will figure it out in your own time, as you have been doing."

With great strength of will, Hiccup managed to pull his stare off the bow and refocus back on her. He found the force of his voice once more.

"Excuse me if I have a hard time believing that." Not only would he most likely wake up back in the custody of the Væringjar, but he and Toothless would probably be too injured to fight back.

She reached over and squeezed his hand.

"You have to trust me on this. Everything will be okay."

The heat from her hand matched that of the bow, both seeping into his skin, both speaking of life.

"You're not even real," he pointed out, softly. And neither was anything in this world. This was just a dream.

Gudrid's eyes had gone overly wide. "Oh no. No. Is that what you think?" She smiled, full of pity and bemusement at Hiccup's skeptical expression. "I live and breathe and dance and eat, just like you. You see...I'm sleeping too."

Hiccup would have pulled away from her if he didn't have an irrational urge not to disturb the weapon on his lap. He opted for bearing her close presence and instead focused on trying to figure out what was going on.

"You're sleeping? You're real?" Her nod did nothing to calm him down. "I thought...I thought you were a ghost or something!"

She kissed him! She was holding his hand—he stroked her hand. Granted, he jumped to a lot of conclusions with her, but he never expected...this!

"Sometimes," she conceded. "Sometimes us vördr have already lived our lives on Midgard by the time we are assigned to a soul, sometimes halfway through that existence. And sometimes from the very beginning. We are always humans who were touched by the gods since our birth, soothsayers or priests, but this duty can be assigned to our soul at any time. The place where we meet now is called Hugrvöllr; it is a plane separate from Midgard, where a warden can converse with her ward no matter where in the world, no matter which world. This is a touchstone for me, something I just learned recently; the ability to shape the setting of Hugrvöllr and bring forth your soul."

Hiccup listened silently and attentively up until that point.

"And you chose…the Hippodrome?" She chose the place where he was just "executed" for a chat?

Gudrid bobbed a shoulder in a rueful shrug.

"It is easier and faster to pull from our ward's freshest memories," she explained, and then correctly interpreted the reason for Hiccup's subsequent horrified expression. "I can't hear your deepest thoughts or desires, Hiccup. But our souls are connected and I can...glean, I suppose, your foremost attentions or subjects that weigh heavily enough on your mind that it affects your behavior. Or I simply see your recent surroundings in a vision."

"Oh," Hiccup muttered, breathing a little easier but not much. Framherja thrummed atop his thighs, quelling any uncomfortable feelings.

"I myself learned of my duty at a very young age," Gudrid went on, "receiving all sorts of dreams and omens, and eventually was trained to interpret them correctly. I practically watched your life through my nightly visions."

"What exactly did you see?" Hiccup asked, still moderately apprehensive.

She laughed, glad to see more of his self-conscious, but easygoing, personality return following his recent traumatic experience. He had been on edge since he first "woke", and rightly so.

"Only what the gods wanted me to see," she assured him, as if the gods would never show her anything inappropriate. Needless to say, he wasn't whole-heartedly assured. "Just to get a feel for your character at first. Sometimes things came to me out of order—dreams of your most ghastly choices, things I found impossible to believe to be true. It took years to piece together the chain of the events I was given, the reasons for your actions, the type of man you were and would become. The gods are cryptic with me too, you know."

Hiccup thought back to something she mentioned before, partially amazed he had been paying attention at all, given the state of his mind. "You said you were assigned...they chose you to be my vördr on purpose?"

Gudrid nodded, taking his hand in two of her own again, looking happier as Hiccup continued to relax into his usual inquisitive persona.

"Vördrs are chosen through connection. Sometimes it has to do with matching characters, others, like I feel is our situation, has to do with similar backgrounds; vördr and ward need to be able to connect on some initial level and have it grow from there.

"We, for example, are both from Berk."

A silence lapsed after that, in which Hiccup continued to process everything he was told until that last piece of information. He rolled it over in his head a few times, making sure he did not mishear.

"You are from Berk?" He wanted confirmation. He could not recall ever seeing anyone like her before. Perhaps she moved while he was young and his memory had not managed to imprint such a face.

"I am."

Hiccup smiled, his heart thundering.

"So...we can meet out of here? In real life?" If he could find her outside of his dreams—or Hugrvöllr—he could...well...

While she wasn't the first girl he had been attracted to, she was the first to show him any affection. Or give him attentions he was interested in returning.

Maybe he was just desperate to increase human companionship, but the thought that he could find her in Midgard made him feel childishly giddy.

For the first time that he could remember, Gudrid looked at him with an open, wretched grief. He got the impression that what he said, and what he thought, were things she wanted to happen so much more than he could ever realize.

"I fear we live in separate times," she uttered, woeful.

"How so?" Hiccup mused aloud. "What do you mean?"

She it her lip, gripping his hand as though to keep him right in front of her.

"You see...I have not once left Berk. I've looked for you, ever since my first dreams as a girl when I wasn't sure if you were real or not. I waited. I still hope to see you one day but...I fear we've missed each other somehow. Like ships passing on either side of a narrow island, never realizing what was overlooked. There is a great possibility that I am already dead, or you are already dead, and we only meet at this time because this is how the gods chose it to be."

"We're not from the same time..." Hiccup murmured, starting to come to terms with the notion.

"As I said, I've spent my entire life thus far living in Berk. You were not there."

"Yeah, I would have remembered you," Hiccup announced. While feeling the same pang of loss she did, the words came out flirtier than he meant.

Astrid was pretty like Gudrid, Ruffnut wasn't bad either, but there weren't too many slightly-older girls that caught his attention. Not like Gudrid did.

"So your soul watches my life in dreams—the important parts, anyway—and now you're just here to guide me?" he gathered, his voice soft. This would be the extent of their relationship, and though wholly disappointed, he would somehow manage to accept this. Something told him Gudrid had a more difficult time with the matter.

She played with his fingers, rubbing their vastly contrasting-sized palms against each other, nothing but longing directed at his hand.

"I've been watching your life since I was a little girl...bits and pieces...more and more in the correct sequence since you left Berk, pulling me to you enough times for me to finally be able to manage a Hugrvöllr meeting. But I am not sure how much longer I will get these visions."

"They could stop?" Now Hiccup thought he could understand the aura of heartache she extended to him. He at least wanted to see her in this plane of existence. If nothing else, if he could never touch her real body, he at least wanted to reach her on some level. This felt real enough for him. He would accept it as it is. Why did it have to be taken from him?

"I am still expected to marry," Gudrid said, and an odd expression of contempt flitted across her features before vanishing as though it were never there. She continued to concentrate on their hands, speaking to the tangle of fingers rather than to him. "It's going to happen soon. They are just rumors, of course, but some women lose their powers...afterwards."

Hiccup's eyebrows rose. He had heard such stories as well; that only virgins had the ability to receive messages from the gods. Before now, he had no opinion on the matter; not bothering to contemplate its validity, for he assumed such tripe would never bother him.

Now it bothered him a great deal.

"I've watched you grow," Gudrid repeated for what could have been the fifth time. "Can you blame me for falling in love with you?"

Hiccup jerked, gaping at the woman who continued to give their united hands most of her attention. The words stung him; the last time he heard them were from his mother's lips.

Gudrid lifted her face, jaw clenched in determination and sorrow, her eyes moments away from watering.

"Kiss me."

Hiccup was beyond over thinking things, or breaking down reasoning. His inquiry had burned out; he could no longer puzzle over lifespans or time or heroes.

He finally managed to set aside Framherja, relinquishing the heat in his palms and replacing it with the sides of Gudrid's soft face. He drew her closer, breathing in her scent.

And then he kissed her as he dreamed of kissing her, in dreams formerly unknown to Hugrvöllr.

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

For the love of Odin's sacrificial eye, he hurt.

Hiccup suppressed the urge to arch his back and whimper as muscles he did not know he had involuntarily constricted into painful spasms.

He immediately perceived that he was lying on his stomach, much as he had when he awoke in Hugrvöllr. But instead of inhaling dirt straight off of the Hippodrome's grounds, there were cloths smelling of peppermint and medicines beneath his chin. He was on a bed, at the very edge of one so that his left arm—possibly set and wrapped in a sling—could escape the weight of his body. And this time, instead of being alone, he felt the distinguished heat belonging only to his Night Fury pressed to his right side.

With great pains he turned his head, wanting to face the dragon curled atop the covers. Before Hiccup could even think to utter Toothless' name, or bring the sight of great beast into focus, a large, slippery tongue sponged up the side of his face, catching the corner of his mouth and slicking his hair at an absurd angle.

"Ugh," he groaned in the first sound expelled from a parched throat.

::You're alive! You're okay!::

Something was thumping against the bed, sending painful jolts along his body, and Hiccup knew Toothless' tail was enraptured in a joyful beat.

"Tooth...stop..."

The tongue came back again, and again.

::You can't stop me:: The dragon sound so elated, so much more energized than the last time Hiccup had seen him, that Hiccup could only manage a half-hearted glare at being taken advantage of in such a helpless state.

He made one small move to escape the wet appendage, then immediately ceased all struggles as a small grunt of pain escaped with his breath. The axe hit him in the back. He knew this now. Right in the center, between his shoulder blades.

He should be dead.

"Tooth..." Hiccup murmured between licks, not wanting to get fishy-saliva in his mouth. His voice was half-muffled in the flat pillow. "We need to talk."

About sharing a lifespan, about Gudrid, about why they were still alive. Toothless ceased in his unduly affectionate licking, but not to respond. Hiccup's limited vision only allowed him to see a dark, scaled chest puff out as the dragon stretched his neck upward to attention.

"Yes," a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the room, well out of Hiccup's vision, "we do."