Aside from dodging the rest of the village. I slowly found some semblance of attachment to this new life.
A new home, a simple way of life and with it, some color begun to shine more vibrant. The the green of the trees, the grass, the blue of the sea, the brown of the very dirt and that brand new house at the top of the hill beneath the bright blue sky. Here, in what many would consider paradise, I found myself lucky to be son to the chief.
Cause while others toil on the dirt, farming vegetables and fruits with most men dedicated to animal husbandry and fishing. I was either in the forge or helping the builders with menial tasks.
I was young and while expectations were one thing. None of the disappointment had yet to tarnish my name. And I meant that despite being named Hiccup. So instead, I focused myself on development. Setting a good foundation in my younger years would be the key.
As far as I was able to garner, this world is losely related to viking society. And while the position of Chief is at the top and usually chosen by their bloodline. Being Heir comes with trials and strength is a must to lead.
A form of power that would translate across the archipelago, something worth striving towards. But that's just mostly me unwilling to be denied my freedom and the liberties I've been given.
And for the next three months, normalcy ensues. I went from my home, to the forge, to helping around the village in terms of construction. I did so to build some resilience in my little body. Along with running around the tree lines of the nearby forest for stamina.
Nothing heavy, small buildups for now...well... except one.
Gobber had taken it upon himself to teach me how to wield a sword. Mainly, the sword I was obsessed with.
That Claymore has my name on it! Or it will! Believe it!
And with Gobbers help, that may not be too far off. In the movies, he was depicted as a capable man, mostly likely even a great warrior with how Stoick's confidence soars in his presence. And that's a dude who bashed his head on a rock... and the rock gave.
I don't know what the deal with him is, but I have to admit. I like the way he teaches.
"Your hips are not moving! I said move em! Or I swear to Thor I'mma make ya' dance at the village square!"
"Hahaha!" I couldn't help but laugh imagining it. But alas, hardwork only pays when you put your heart to it. And so I did, not because I'm afraid of dancing in the village square and be seen as an idiot. Odin knows the people would see the punishment in it.
Nah, none of that. I'm working hard because there are dreams to be earned in the future. And I can't be caught lacking, not when you find yourself in a village whose sunrise is met by mead, boar, whole chickens, hammers, mallets, fishnets and plows.
The world demands it of me, that I be part of their life. And I demand that my life be at its peak. Cause as comfortable the ground may be. It lacks the world view that men yearn for. And that is-
"Lass! I've seen lasses swing harder than you! And I've been Gothi's personal stick tester! Now swing!"
*thuck! the sound of a blade cutting half an inch deep into the tree halted me. But try as I might to pull it back...all I could do is grunt and pull only for my arms to shake where they were. I seem to have reached my limit.
"Hnn!!" Come on!
"Lad!"
"Yes Gobber!" stop distracting me!
"That's enough now lad." there it was again, the gentle side of him. "Thas' enough fer now."
"I *pant- can still *pant- keep *pant- going."
"Dun mistake this as pity lad. I am impressed. Ya did more than others could do in your age. Even more than some of our own. Rest lad. It's part of growth."
"Who are you and what have you done with Gobber?"
"Hahaha! Oh you snarky little- get yer ass bathed. Then! I want ye at the Great Hall for supper. Go on lad. I'll take care of this."
His jovial nature is intoxicating to the point you can't help but listen to his shenanigans and even more so to head his words. Still... with a small shrug of my shoulders. I nodded in acceptance.
I was able to plant my blade an inch deep into the tree. That's progress I guess.
"Alright, I'll see you there Gobber!"
—.—.—.—.—
I watched as he disappeared up the dirty path. His legs moving less uneven than they did before, a distinct hurt that earned him his name. His arms were shaking, with sweat drenching his tunic, yet that boy heaved with every step. Running still, as best as he could.
Odin watch over him, the boy's got grit more than the combined discipline of all kids his age. But gods be good, I could not help but still think of the frail little boy that was placed upon my forge.
Once the dust settled and his shadow faded, I turned toward the tree.
The blade still stuck out at an angle. It was a crude thing—nothing like the real sword he dreams of. Thick along the spine, thick like a pipe, shape liked a sword. Forged more for weight than finesse. I'd made it deliberately oversized—not to mock, but to build. Just enough steel to teach his body what his dreams demanded.
I reached for the hilt and gave it a pull. With a grunt, I yanked it free, eyes falling to the gouge it left behind.
Half an inch.
That tree was no sapling. It had roots older than the village itself. Hardened by cold winds and a hundred storms. To drive a blade that deep into it at eight winters old?
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"By Thor's hairy knuckles… he's doin' it."
My thumb brushed the flat of the blade, feeling the slight warp from impact. No cracks, no chips. The sword held.
But for all this attempt at a distraction, I smiled knowingly as I whispered, "...so did the boy."
Aye...aye he did.
It hadn't always been like this. I remember those early years. A five year old kid he was when I first saw those too-wide eyes and too-thin arms. Stoick brought him by the forge after another one of those lectures gone wrong. Said the boy needed somewhere else to learn discipline. I think the old bear hoped I'd scare him straight with fire and steel.
Instead, to his surprise and mine, the lad stayed.
He learned the names of tools faster than I expected. He took to reading books like a blacksmith takes to ale. Couldn't hold a hammer straight for more than a minute, but damn if he did, he worked like he had been born for it.
Still… there were worries.
Wouldn't eat enough, not by half. Always pushing food around, offering it to the strays or saving it for later, then forgetting. I feared he'd stunt before he ever had a chance to grow. Just like his mother, gods rest her soul—small, stubborn, and with a fire behind the eyes that scared most men.
But he's not just her. There's strength in him, a quiet strength. The kind that blooms slow, like coal catching under the bellows. And today?
Today I saw it burn a little brighter.
His future is his now, and if Thor be willing, I'd make sure to temper that boy till he is sharp enough to stand strong on his own.
Because one day, Stoick's going to step down. And when that happens, kid's gonna need the strength to prove the whole village wrong.
That he isn't just his mother's son, he was their Chief's heir.
—.—.—.—.—
The days went on by, and soon it was four months since my rebirth. And so far... it was not going as well as I thought it did.
I can't help but feel such disconnection. To see people, hear their names and see another. Someone who wasn't there yet, who might not be there if this changes continue, or someone he shouldn't be thinking about.
Such thoughts plagued me. And painfully so when I am an eight year old and kept glancing at a seven year old Astrid.
Seriously! It feels wrong in every way.
I am not getting a boner! No! I'm eight for fucks sake! But if your telling that snotty brat who kept glaring at everybody is going to be a beauty someday.... I would not have believed it and called that person insane!
That includes my fucking training.
My stamina is insane! Like seriously, I can't outspeed a grown ass man but! I can outpace them... I know. Crazy.
Though as insane my stamina may be, my body is very much human. So while I can train longer and faster, there is a limit to how much I can train before I start harming my potential.
It was very much like my skill in forging and crafting. Something in me knows what to do and what not to do. A blaring warning, like a sixth sense.
And while it doesn't help progress, it keeps me from set backs. But then again, insane stamina is already like, Exp Boost for life.
And there it is again.
*sigh~
Can you blame me. I can't help it. To see my progress like a report card or a part of a system or a training simulator. I'm so detached from it that when I'm tired, I just think I need more energy.
I know for a fact this didn't happen to me in my previous life... Not Hiccups life but the one before that. I meant the one from the modern world.
...fuck.
Yup, that's the problem. And the only time, I feel alive is when I'm here.
"More heat lad."
And with that, I pump the bellows. Making sure my hands were gripped tightly, and my gloves on.
With a pair of tonges, Gobber grips the heated blade more tightly, while I make sure the anvil is clear and I'm out of the way and the hammer for his spare hand at the ready.
Attaching the hammer hand, I watched and listen to the rythm of the forge. Here, I know the dangers, the heat, that any of those heated rocks fall on my forehead and I'm dead or a misstep and I lose a finger or worst something else entirely.
Here...I know I'm alive, not because I'm living, but because I'm afraid of death.
And as sad as a sigh can be, I can't help but think that this way of life...was wrong.
"Go lad."
"Gobber-"
"Yer' sighin' ain't helpin' me 'er. Go. Settle your mind, then go 'ome."
*sigh~ "... you're attention to me is outstanding. I can't say the same about your hammer work."
"Oi!"
"Bye! Gobber!"
———
I had never thought that months would go by as if they were nothing
Let alone living a life so... boring. The only excitement I have is seeing myself grow stronger and faster that Gobber actually thought I was blessed by Thor.
Four months, and a whole inch a half improvement. It's big deal.
My smithing techniques are rapidly improving too. I damn well can't replicate the Damascus steel sword just yet... or anywhere close to it. But I make a decent sword.
My name around the village is improving. Seeing me as a hardworking kid that prefers to keep to himself. Not bad, not bad... Ok I admit it, its good.
The slight distance gives me space to actually wrap my head around this new life of mine without seemingly deranged.
And while I was glad for my father's absence. I can't help but wonder where he is. Something that caught on when one morning. Gobber was gone.
He had left along with my uncle, Spitelout and sailed along with some of the men.
Why, they refused to say. But with how awkward they were when talking to me for the days after, I can easily assume it was about my father.
My answer came when I went home after another day of training.
I saw the smoke from the chimney first. The flicker of llight from within through the window, and through the crack of the door, I heard his voice.
"...armored dragons Gobber. Armored. One of them chased me, had to run to the woods. My hammer dented it, but it didn't die. It fought, fierce and mad. With spit drooling from its mouth as it smiled and snarled at me. It saw me as food Gobber. And for the first time in my life... I feared a dragon..."
"Gods above... Stoick... what do we do?"
"We strengthen Berk."
"That's it? Why not let me send scouts. See where this mad man is headed."
"We are already at war, we can't hope to add another enemy amongst them. And should he find the Nest here... I fear what that will do to his forces. No. We had to end it here so that we may be prepared when he comes."
"How are you so certain he isn't raizing an ally village to the ground right now?"
"Because of his words... Of his ambition. He demanded our fealty Gobber. And struck at our weakest. When the chiefs were gathered, our defenses lowered and when our forces are thin. He descended to kill the Chieftains so that he may benefit from our deaths. No.... As ruthless as this man is, he is cunning. So he will wait, wait till we are at our lowest. And when we have nowhere to turn to, he will bring us down to heel, willing or unwilling. He will wait.... till the dragons had taken more from us... or of us."
The two sat there, quiet and surrounded by a grim sense of contemplation.
"Enough about grim news. What of Berk?"
"Quiet Stoick. Been months since the last Dragon Raid. Village is... tense. The council received word of continues attacks at the Murderous Tribe. They fear they will resort to raid if this continues"
"Better them than us."
"While I'm with ya' there, there's just one problem."
"Aye... we just might become their target. Increase the night patrols, triple it. You and I know those...men... theywon't stop till they had their fill."
It was then that I decided to enter.
So I knocked. Stoick then opened the door with surprisingly lighter steps than I thought he would. I smiled, he smiled, and with a firm and gentle hand on my shoulder. He spoke.
"I heard you've been eating well."
And I laughed... because for all his stoicism, the joy in voice fooled no one. And much like my asian mother... she could never just say how happy she was to see me.
"Some things...never change."