Work Text:
Hiccup adjusted the gears and cooled the metal. The third time must be it, right? Then he would take it out to test, ideally with no one around to see him fail. But it should work. Not like the crossbow when he avoided an eye injury by inches. This time for sure.
Especially after a couple insights from Harold. Hiccup had to admit the guy was smart, if a little quirky. But hey, who was he to talk? He only caught a glimpse of his sketchbook but there were some crazy designs there. Crazy for their part of the Archipelago, at least. Who on Berk would need stables the size of two Great Halls? The sheep here weren’t fond of heights.
So, a bit odd, yet Hiccup found himself growing fascinated. Gobber was a great teacher in the forge, but there were only so many ways you could fix a weapon. Hiccup longed for more, for inventions used not for killing but helping. If his father heard him, he would go on how they needed to keep themselves safe from the dragons and all that, but honestly? There must be more to life than killing dragons. And Harold seemed to know something on the subject.
“Hello! Anyone here?”
Hiccup walked to the front of the forge, wiping his hands on a towel. When he saw who stood in the customer’s window, his mind suddenly blanked.
“Astrid! Hi! Hi Astrid!”
She was startled by his outburst but quickly schooled her expression. “Hey, Hiccup.”
A moment of silence. Oh, right. “So what can I do for you?”
She dropped a sword on the counter and Hiccup couldn’t stop his wince at its condition. Rust covered almost half of it and the wooden handle looked like it was chewed on. It seemed one strong hit away from shattering.
“Not to be rude, but, uh-“
“It’s not mine,” she assured him. “My mother’s old sword. She’s found it in the attic this morning.”
“It’s not fixable,” Hiccup stated and shot her an apologetic look. “But we’ve got freshly refined swords for sale if you’d be interested. Or I could make something specific for you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what my mom expected. She doesn’t even use swords.” Hiccup laughed and her mouth twitched upwards. She leaned over the counter, suddenly close to him and he jumped back. She paid him no mind as her eyes zeroed in on a pile of weapons behind him. “You mean those? Saved from the fire?”
“Uh, a couple, yes. Mostly though, they’re Harold’s work. He took over mending old weapons he could find around here since Gobber is usually busy with current orders.” And he did wonders with them, if you asked Hiccup. He allowed himself to gush over the craftmanship when no one saw, the small adjustments he wouldn’t even think of, that made the weapon better balanced and durable. Hiccup saw Gobber quietly appreciating the younger smith’s work, so he felt justified in his admiration.
“Speaking of,” Hiccup turned back to the girl, slightly embarrassed. “Where is Harold? I thought he spent most of his time here. When he’s not running from angry villagers apparently.” She was joking yet Hiccup grimaced at the reminder. He could relate to being singled out and blamed without real proof. It wasn’t a pleasant experience to have half the village watch your back in distrust all the time.
“Helping Gobber around the Great Hall. Turns out the old wooden roof is not so great against heavy rainstorms.” Astrid seemed almost… disappointed? But Hiccup thought she didn’t like the guy. Maybe she didn’t like him enough to share her thoughts. No surprise there. So back to business. “How about that sword?”
She finally set her eyes on him. “Hmm? Oh, I’ll tell mum it wasn’t salvageable. She gets these spontaneous ideas that entertain her for a few hours until she moves on to something else.”
“Okay then.” He tapped his fingers on the counter, thinking of what to say next. Astrid liked weapons, right? He could compliment her axe. But no, she didn’t make it so that would be pointless. And knowing himself, he’d probably stumble over his words. Ah, thank gods Gobber wasn’t here to witness his blundering attempts at conversation. He would wiggle his eyebrows in that weird way of his. Small mercies.
“You think he did it?” Astrid shook him out of dreadful thoughts. “Burned down the storehouse?”
Oh, Harold again. She was really interested in him, which made Hiccup feel… odd in his chest. Although for all her questions she still seemed suspicious of him. Which Hiccup found strange as he took a liking to the guy immediately.
He shook his head in response. “Gothi said he was with her, that he is innocent. You think she lied?”
Astrid hesitated. “It’s just too convenient, isn’t it? A tad too much for a coincidence.”
“But why would he, would anyone really, target that particular storage? Wouldn’t destroying food be more effective if someone was trying to scare us?” Hiccup wondered and judging by Astrid’s puzzlement, she had no answer either.
Perhaps she knew more than him and kept it to herself for a reason. But she hasn’t left yet so perhaps he could voice what was on his mind.
“Astrid?” she glanced at him. “Why… why do you dislike him so much?”
She scoffed, as if his reaction was the unreasonable one, but then she leaned her head on her fist, considering the question.
Eventually she collected her thoughts. “Why do you trust him that much?”
Hiccup replied with a glare hoping to convey that he asked her first. She sighed, “Okay, okay.” She stood straight, placing both hands on the counter. “I don’t understand why everyone thinks he’s harmless. And like it’s a good idea to welcome him on our island, in the forge, let him in on our secrets. Hiccup, he could be dangerous! We know nothing about him, only that half-baked story of how he doesn’t know why he travelled around here. I don’t buy it.”
“Not everyone,” Hiccup mumbled. Seeing Astrid’s confusion he elaborated. “Not everyone thinks he’s harmless, hardly anyone now. You heard what happened yesterday. Someone spoke against him and suddenly half of the village wanted him punished for something he didn’t do. It’s not right, Astrid.”
“Stoick wouldn’t let them. Not without proof.”
“Proof can be fabricated,” he whispered.
“So can innocence,” she surveyed him with her usual squint. “I just want Berk to be safe. Before it’s too late.”
“So do I.” He met her eyes with a small smile. She responded in kind, and they stood like that for a moment until she drew back her fist and hit him.
“Aaah! What was that for?” He groaned, massaging his left arm.
“Just… be careful.” She smirked at his scowl, which was absolutely justified as he would be needing his dominant arm in the forge, thank you very much.
They both turned at the characteristic sound of footsteps coming from the other end of the forge. There was a clattering followed by a groan. Harold emerged from the back with a heap of tools in his arms at the verge of crumpling. His sole focus was on balancing the pile and placing it on his worktable. Only then did he notice he wasn’t alone.
He brushed his fringe from the eyes and grinned at them. “Hello, don’t mind me.” He put on the apron and gloves and added fire to the forge. “Gobber was needed in the village and the pile’s not gonna fix itself.”
Astrid looked at Hiccup with a raised brow, possibly thinking the same as he did: why was he so cheerful after yesterday?
Without waiting for a response, Harold set to work, putting one axe in the fire. Perhaps cheerful wasn’t the right word. Despite his calm surface, he seemed drowsy, his shoulders hunched and faintly limping. Was his leg giving him trouble?
Hiccup should probably get to work himself, he had the new invention to finish before Astrid arrived. Not that he minded, but it was sort of strange that she was still here. But he can’t ask her to leave, can he? He wouldn’t want to either. Though her scrutinising look made him nervous, even when it wasn’t directed at him. Sure, the newcomer was interesting, and Hiccup found himself paying him a lot of attention, but Astrid had different goals than curiosity. She studied him waiting for a mistake, for a hint of malice or deceit. Perhaps she hoped to prove the village wrong for trusting the stranger if her suspicions came true.
“Are you alright?” She spoke, startling Hiccup. He really ought to listen to Gobber about drifting off. However, Astrid wasn’t looking at him, but, predictably, Harold.
The man was lost in his work and didn’t realise the question was meant for him. After a moment of silence he looked up from the axe to see two sets of eyes peering at him.
“Oh! Uh, sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing!” Hiccup flails his hands in the air. “Do you need a hand with those?” He gestured at the tools.
Harold didn’t look alright. But no one could blame him. He’d been working tirelessly the past two days, repairing damages from the fire and replenishing their weapons stock. He needed to show he was useful. Hiccup understood that.
Perhaps Astrid would get the hint and stop buggering the man. She didn’t seem inclined to leave, though.
“I thought you had your special project. Don’t let me keep you from that. And this pile? Mostly repetitive fixups. Work will do me good,” he sent a wink at Hiccup as if sharing a joke.
“Alright. If you don’t mind… could you take a look at this later? If you’re not tired, of course.”
“No worries, bud, I’ll be happy to.”
“Your hand,” Astrid squinted at Harold. “What’s wrong with it?”
Oh. Hiccup hadn’t noticed before, but Astrid was right. He had a bandage on his entire forearm. Harold scratched the hem of the bandage but didn’t stop working.
Without looking up he murmured, “Just a scrape, really. I still get a little clumsy with maces.”
Astrid, because she apparently couldn’t take his word for anything, shook her head. “It’s from the fire, right?” At Hiccup’s incredulous look she elaborated, “You can see the burns going beyond the bandage. You wrapped it yourself?”
“I was in a hurry. I’ll keep in mind to improve the technique, thanks,” he replied drily.
The tension didn’t leave his shoulders. The last days he was quite upbeat, in spite of the situation. But everyone has their limits.
“How’s your boat going?” Hiccup had just about given up on trying to figure out Astrid. When she wanted something, she was relentless. And Harold was on her radar.
The man kept shaping the weapon, the rhythmical clank! became more forceful.
“It’s alright,” he said after a long pause. His eyes were glued to the axe in his hands. “All that’s left is to build it.” The hammer went down. “I should get to it, actually.” Another loud clank! “I might need it sooner than expected.”
“You think?” The hammer clattered towards the ground. Harold crouched with a sigh.
“Astrid, maybe it’s not the best time…” Hiccup tried to alleviate the sudden tension. When Harold stood up, he was beyond tired like before, he seemed drained. He shot Hiccup a look that he interpreted as grateful, before the mask replaced any sigh of emotion. He couldn’t hide the hunch of his back or the drowsiness of his arms, though.
“Excuse me for a minute.” Harold wiped his hands on a piece of cloth and turned around. Before he took a step, a thunderbolt lit the air. The following rumble seemed to last for a minute as the three stood in their place, watching the sky. “Perfect,” Harold mumbled.
“But it’s been so calm this week!” Hiccup’s cry was interrupted by another roar from the sky. “Ah, never mind. We should clean up here in case there’s a storm.”
“Already on it,” Harold stored the tools and gathered his trinkets and notebook. “I’ll lock the back. You make sure nothing can be blown away in here, will you?”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve been working here for a while, you see,” Hiccup replied, securing the smithing hammers. Harold laughed and shook his head, “I was talking to Astrid. What, since you’re here, you might as well help,” and he disappeared behind the forge.
Astrid shook out of her surprise and jumped over the counter. Together they locked everything in its place in a matter of minutes and met with Harold outside. The man frowned at the sky as if it greatly inconvenienced him. Hiccup grabbed his arm to get his attention – his mind was all over the place today – and they followed Astrid to the Great Hall.
They passed other villagers on their way, some of them sent less than pleasant looks at Harold. Hiccup at first thought they were aimed at him, it wouldn’t be the first time, but there was animosity that could only be directed at an outsider. Harold noticed them too, judging by the way he avoided eye contact and strode quickly through the village. When they were passing the route to the woods, Harold stopped, mumbled about checking something but Astrid countered, “Don’t be stupid, it’s dangerous” and the rest of the walk passed in nervous silence, disturbed only by the rumbles gaining regularity.
In the Hall the lights were already burning – people had gathered to wait out the storm. Astrid went to find her parents, and since Stoick was nowhere to be seen, Hiccup decided to stick with Harold, for as long as he would tolerate him.
Harold motioned to a table in the corner, a secluded spot away from prying eyes, and that’s where they sat across from each other. Almost in sync they took out their notebooks which made Harold laugh under his breath. “So, since we’ve got the afternoon off, I could look at your design. What was it, a time tracker?”
Hiccup was flooded with joy and showed him his sketches. “The prototype wasn’t anything useful, nor salvageable, but this time I think I’ve got it.” Harold lit up, his earlier gloom subdued, and shoot off questions about the mechanisms. He complimented the changes Hiccup made this morning and pointed out the possible cause of problems. “See, the gears here tend to get stuck in the middle. No amount of oil fixes it entirely, trust me, so you’ve got to divide them from the others.”
“Wouldn’t that slow it down? Oh, not if we take out that part,” Hiccup sketched the new version vigorously, aided by Harold’s quips and didn’t notice when their table welcomed unexpected guests.
“Woah, woah, uh, what are you doing here?” Charcoal fell out of his hands and when he lifted it from the ground, he took in the newcomers. Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston were sitting at the table. Their eyes were fixed on Harold who watched them surprised yet a smile tugged at his lips. Tuffnut sat next to Hiccup and Ruffnut hauled herself close to Harold, making him slide away a bit.
“Hello, dear mysterious traveller and hello, Hiccup. What brings you here in this inclement weather?” Tuffnut gestured theatrically, as he was unable to be serious for his life. Ruffnut continued the antics, “Harry, may I call you Harry? Harry, listen, my brother and I are starting a gang, a cult, if you will. We figured you are the perfect addition to our troupe.”
Harold’s eyes widened, but before he could voice anything, the twins carried on, “As the officially claimed children of Loki we see in you our kin,” Tuffnut leaned on the table and Harold leaned back. Gods, when he wasn’t nervous over the villagers, he was bothered by the craziest lot on Berk. Hiccup wanted to chime in and save the guy but, honestly, no words came to his head. He was shocked even more when Ruffnut turned to him with her piercing stare.
“Hiccup, mate. You can help as well. What is the better explosive, yak’s spit or Gobber’s special oil from the forge?”
Surprised he was asked a question, Hiccup didn’t immediately reply and Tuffnut added, “And where can we get it from?”
Oh, that did not sound suspicious at all, “Wait, why do you want to know?”
“Nah, none of your worries, H.” Tuffnut waved his hand, and Hiccup didn’t believe one bit in his levity.
“We just thought that you’d know, what with being our rival as the most explosive viking on Berk.” Was that… a compliment? Fearfully, coming from the twins, it probably was.
Hiccup sighed, remembering his last mishap with oil in the forge – he cleaned it up afterwards! It was neater than Gobber has ever seen it but still his father sprigged his disappointed look on him for three days.
Harold chuckled, glad to have the twins’ attention off him, he bet. His delight was short-lived, though, as they switched their crazed gazes to him. Hiccup sighed with relief.
“Don’t think we forgot about you, mister fire hazard. Berk’s been getting dull with the storms and all. Then you appeared!” Ruffnut’s hands flew in the air.
“Yeah, the destruction was getting kinda boring, no challenge at all. You know what brings artists to death, Harold?”
“Uhh–” Harry looked to Hiccup for help, but Tuffnut didn’t wait for an answer.
“Being predictable! We’ve become predictable! We might as well be dead!”
Ruffnut shook Harry’s shoulders. “But it would be futile since our death would also be boring! Predictable! Yet thanks to you, the noble people of Berk focused on something else. Now it’s time for our comeback.”
“Our best destruction yet,” Tuff smirked and the twins high–fived across the table.
“So tell us, Harry, since we’re all friends here,” she whispered dramatically. “Did you blow up the storehouse?” She flicked her eyebrows.
“Because if that’s so…” Tuffnut put his fingertips together, trying to make himself look smarter, in Hiccup’s opinion. “It’d be AWESOME!”
Ruffnut hit Harry in the shoulder, wearing a lunatic grin. “Harold, you mad genius, you’re like us! You must love the smell of smoke, oh so sweet.”
“What?! No, no–”
“Guys, perhaps you should keep quiet,” Hiccup tried to get their attention. “People are staring at us.”
“People always stare at us, Hiccup, it’s the price of fame.” Tuff waved him off. “So did you?”
“Of course not. I wasn’t even there when the fire started.” Harold checked the hall for any peering eyes. He did not want a repeat of yesterday, no surprise there.
Ruffnut patted his arm. “Eh, fair enough. It wasn’t that explosive anyway.”
“Yeah, we would do it so much better, right, sis?”
“Wanna try right now, bro?”
“Please don’t,” Hiccup said.
“Yeah, you don’t wanna be caught in the storm with those metal helmets,” Harold said. The three looked at him questioningly and he added, “metal’s not really healthy with thunders.”
The twins’ eyes honest-to-gods sparkled. “Now I’m terrified,” Hiccup murmured and Harold nodded in support.
“Nothing new then, Hiccup,” a voice from behind startled him. Snotlout stood at the head of the table, with Fishlegs squirming behind him.
They sat down uninvited, because apparently Hiccup couldn’t catch a break today. Snotlout was on his right and Fishlegs took the other end of the table between the twins.
“I bet you have some super dangerous, super cool dragons on your island, right?” Snotlout lit up as he spoke to Harold. His usual excitement with violence made Hiccup roll his eyes, because, really, is this the future of Berk?
“It’s never boring there. We try not to disturb the wildlife, though.” Even Harold’s voice of reason wouldn’t deter bloodthirsty vikings.
“Man, I’m just dying to know how it feels to crush a dragon’s skull with my bare hands. My dad does it all the time, you know.”
“We do know since you never shut up about it,” Ruffnut snickered.
“Like you wouldn’t do the same,” Snotlout shot back. “Imagine, hanging a whispering death in your room. Or, oh yeah, a scauldron!”
“Whispering death,” Tuffnut sighed dreamily. Fishlegs joined in the sentiment.
“Say, Harold, what’s your favourite weapon? You look like a mace guy to me. Hey, I’m a mace guy! What a coincidence, right?” He ignored Ruffnut’s whispered “fanboy”. It’s not like she was much better, interviewing Harold earlier.
“If you mean maces and talons, then sure, I could be a mace guy. As for weapons,” he hesitated. “We don’t kill dragons. Haven’t for a few years now.”
What?
“WHAT?” The table exploded.
Hiccup stared at Harold, as did the others, and mulled over the new information in his head. If they didn’t kill dragons, then maybe… No, it was a ridiculous thought, Berk is different. Perhaps they could spare a couple of sheep down south but here, every provision counted.
“Sis, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“We’ve got a heretic in our group.” Ruffnut shot up from her seat.
“A deviant in our troupe!” They threw their fists in the air.
Harold watched them unsure but not alarmed. That might have even been glee in eyes though Hiccup couldn’t tell.
Fishlegs broke the moment of silence, bless his soul. With his signature diplomacy he asked about plant species on Harold’s island. Snotlout’s eyeroll didn’t deter him and Harold started listing names. Some of them Hiccup had heard of but never seen, most were new to him.
“I heard that the southern islands have wild plants that could eat meat! Do you have those?” Harold denied. Fishlegs continued, “ooh, do you have those flowers that change the colours depending on the time of day?”
“That we do,” Harry grabbed his notebook, swept through a couple pages then moved it to Fishlegs. The boy loudly admired the drawings of plants he longed to see for his own eyes. Hiccup hoped one day he will, he’s always been excited about nature. Recently it seemed like Fishlegs subdued his hobbies in lieu of studying dragon training techniques. Whether it was a change of heart or a way to not seem the odd one out, Hiccup didn’t know.
“Gods, the nerd talk, so early?”
“Shut up, Snotlout, it’s past midday,” Ruffnut gibed, ever the contrary.
“That’s what I said, right? Too early!” His whine lost its force as another voice joined the table.
“What’s going on here?”
Astrid stood by their table, her brows furrowed. She had the expression of disdain as if she just smelled something awful. Hiccup’s mind provided that that was rather regular Astrid, especially around other teens.
Snotlout grinned as he did upon seeing her. His hands flew in the air as he exclaimed, “Astrid! I saved you a seat, right here on my–”
Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself on the floor. His groan made the others snicker. Well, he should’ve known better not to grate on Astrid. Who smirked, playfully wiped off her hand, the one she used to punch the boy off the stool and sat on the bench next to Hiccup. Well, she forced him to move left, closer to Tuffnut and made herself comfortable.
Snotlout grumbled as took back his seat, something about just being nice. Hiccup couldn’t help another eyeroll. Harold wasn’t unmoved by the show either, he was hiding his grin behind his hand.
The levity of the table wasn’t long-lived.
“You,” Astrid pointed a finger at Harold, “claimed to know more about the storms than us. Tell me then, Harold, why a thunderstorm now, days after the last rain?” She gritted out his name like an insult.
“Wow, you predict weather now?” Tuffnut gasped. “Can you control it too?”
“Oh, then you’ll tell us the best day to go swimming,” Ruffnut added. “Or make it so!”
“Please, I can tell you that anytime,” Snotlout mocked. “In fact, you two should go right now.”
“Please don’t, don’t do that,” Harold intervened when he saw them ready to bolt. “I’m sorry, Astrid, that I misled you but I cannot predict weather.” He sighed and looked at the twins, “nor control it.”
Astrid’s scowl could bring mighty warriors to their knees, so Hiccup was that much impressed when Harry didn’t even flinch. “Then you’re of no use to us,” she stated.
The table went quiet at the harsh proclamation. Even the twins didn’t want to intervene in the face of Astrid’s anger. The bravest of them turned out to be Fishlegs who continued with botany surveys as if nothing happened.
“I read about ancient dragons who could master the sky and the sea. That would be so cool, don’t you think?”
The teens didn’t need more of an ice breaker to lift the spirit. Tuffnut picked up the subject. “Woah. Imagine if we were that dragon. We could make the sea boil and have a swim in hot water all year long.”
“What is it with you and swimming? Don’t you get enough of it living on an island?” Harold asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Ruffnut replied perfectly serious. She stood up from the table, a terrifying grin appeared on her face, “Who wants to see if there’s mead hidden in the kitchens?”
A chorus of oooh circled the table. “Bet nobody’s looking after it. I’m always in admiration of your genius, dear sister.”
“Wait for me! Fishface, you’re on lookout,” Snotlout shot up and so did the other boy. “See ya later, Astrid.” He sent her a kiss, his delusions unwavered by constant rejection.
The girl only smirked and soon after they heard a painful groan coming from the floor, again.
“Be careful where you’re going, Snotface,” she chirped sweetly, very pleased with herself.
The twins shook with laughter. Hiccup agreed it didn’t get boring to watch Astrid bring down Snotlout’s ego from the moon.
“And I’ll be seeing you later, mysterious traveller,” Ruffnut winked at Harold, who eyed her horrified, and followed her brother.
Hiccup sent Harold a sheepish smile. “Sorry about them. They are a bit–”
“Insane,” Astrid cut in.
“Intense,” Hiccup finished. She wasn’t wrong, though.
Thankfully, Harold shook his head and laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve met my share of unhinged vikings. Those guys are a mild nuisance compared to them. And rather smart when they want to be. I only hope they don’t find that mead. The results could be catastrophic.”
And gods know they didn’t need any more attractions for the upcoming weeks. Hiccup looked in the direction the others left. He groaned. “You’re right. I should make sure they don’t do anything stupid. Well, anything that can’t be fixed.”
He dragged himself from the table and thanked Harry for his help on the inventions. He awkwardly waved at Astrid and she returned the gesture. Should he leave the two of them alone? He didn’t expect any fights in the middle of the hall, they were both rather conscious of their actions. Still, nothing good could come of their distrustful interactions. His thoughts didn’t stop his stride – there was another fire that required his presence in the kitchen. He only hoped it wasn’t a literal one.
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Astrid watched Hiccup disappear in the kitchens. She turned around and squinted at Harold.
“You really are strange, you know?”
He faltered. “I'm sure you're right, but what is it now?”
Once the craziness of the teens was gone, his shoulders dropped. At first Astrid figured it was relief, her own patience was starting to run out, too. On second glance though, he seemed more fatigued than calm, tired in the same way he was this morning. Perhaps it would work to her advantage.
“Of all the people on Berk you choose to spend time with the chief’s son. You help him with his work, act all interested, slowly getting him entwined around you. Why Hiccup, hmm? If not for a purpose?”
Harold grimaced. She was glad she got to him, got past that jovial façade. “You really think that low of your tribe’s heir? That only a lunatic would want to hang out with him? Only to gain something.”
“What? That is not what I said.” Harold raised his eyebrows but didn’t argue. “I see what you’re doing. You’re gaining his trust. And with that you hope for the chief’s trust. Well, it’s not gonna work,” she hissed, aggravated by with bored look. Or tired. The same thing.
“You think I’m responsible for the storehouse, then. Perhaps for the storm as well?” A momentary sneer made place for weariness. He fiddled with his fingers, his eyes wide open as he searched for words. His gaze focused on her once more, she had a feeling each of his word was carefully picked. “Fine. I understand that you don’t trust me. Believe me, I admire your commitment. And loyalty.” Was he mocking her? “But let others make their own choices.”
“Not when their choices are manipulated by an outsider. I’m watching you, Harold.”
“Yes, I can see that. I’m not your enemy, Astrid. I’m the furthest thing from an enemy to Berk.” The way he said it– a hint of desperation in his tone made her stumble on her next words.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I just don’t want the others to wake up when it’s too late.”
She pushed off the table and turned towards the kitchen. She didn’t care for a reply. She had enough of that man who claimed to be an ally, a friend to Berk.
Now, there were other issues that needed her attention. If Snotlout and the twins found the mead, there was no way they would listen to Hiccup not to drink it. And if they'd done something stupid already… Well, she’ll be glad to let off some steam.