Chapter 19 - Return from Odin's Halls

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(Gobber)

Clang.

"You're pretty nifty with that hammer there, ain't 'cha?" Ormr was once again working on that contraption that attached to his dragon's tail, replacing bent and broken rods. It was a fascinating device, a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship. I'd never seen a thing like it before, somehow combining leather and steel to make something that blended so well into the organic form of the dragon that wore it.

He shrugged, lifting the hammer once again. Clang. "I mean, yeah. Got to be. If I'm not, and my equipment breaks? That's a one-way trip to see Hel herself for both me and Toothless." Clang.

I raised an eyebrow. "Helheim, eh? Yeh wouldn't go to Valhalla?"

A quiet huff of disbelief escaped from behind his mask. Clang. "Nope, don't think so. I'm not exactly your regular Viking." He gestured towards his dragon as an explanation. The sleek black beast was asleep, oblivious to the hardened steel capable of slaughtering dragons that surrounded him. "Besides, if I fall off Toothless, I'm not exactly going to have time to reach for my sword - I'll be trying to climb back on him before I go splat." Clang. "That is, if I'm not already dead." Clang.

I lifted my work from the grindstone, finally happy with the sharpness of the axe blade. I spun it proudly in my remaining hand and the glint of firelight flashed through the gloom of the forge, reflected by the metal. "Valhalla is for the warriors, lad. Besides, I doubt you'd need yer sword in yer hand when yeh die to get to the good afterlife - that dragon of yours is as much a weapon as this axe. Hold onto him and you'll be welcomed by the Valkyries!"

"Seriously? Me? The scrawny fishbone who didn't hit puberty until he was sixteen? I'm flattered, really," Ormr said dryly, swinging his hammer once again. Clang.

"Eh, I'll bulk yeh up in no time. I train the recruits 'round here - it can't be that hard to fix all... this." I flapped my hook in his direction.

Clang. He laughed. "But you just gestured to all of me." Clang.

"Yes, that's it! Stop -" A memory hits me, faster than any dragon and as piercing as an arrow. I'm suddenly somewhere else - no, same place, here in the Forge, but with someone else. A young boy, no more than fifteen, who tried so hard to make his mark - to fit in - that it killed him. A young boy who wielded a hammer with the same skill, who's sarcastic wit and humour kept me chuckling for hours. A young boy who also described himself as a fishbone. A young boy with the same voice-

"-Hiccup," I blurted.

Cla- The hammer skidded across the metal, the screech piercing the air. "What did you just say?" the young man before me asked in a strangled whisper.

I turned to stare at him - seeing the skinny limbs the leather armour barely concealed, the hammer held loosely in his left hand and the hint of wild auburn hair sneaking under the edge of his mask.

"Hiccup," I repeated, still staring at him like he was truly the ghost we thought he was. My mouth opened and shut like a beached salmon, and from the way my breath caught in my throat, I may as well have been. "You-"

"NO, I'm not!" he cried, shaking his head, and dropping the hammer to the dirt below. It sent up a cloud of dust and we both flinched back at the dull thud. The dragon's head behind him flew up, eyes narrowed in concern for his rider. "I don't know- who is- um, what- I gotta- gotta go." He spun, garbling a command to his Night Fury who bounded over, scooping up his rider onto his back. It wasn't until they rocketed up into the air that I found I could move again, feeling flooding back into my remaining limbs.

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⏰ Last updated: Mar 25 ⏰

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