This is where I belong ||httyd fanfic||

59.Crossroads

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The new chief's bold announcement had carried with it a shockwave charging the entire isle of Selardalr for the next few days, locking it in a sphere of frenetic energy. The village had wives gossiping with serpent-quick tongues while children in the streets saw to play-sparring that ended in real conflict too often. Dragons fluttered and swerved all over the Silent Wolf sky roaring and casting their fiery plumes in the air in much the way they did in the old Nest.

Hiccup stood upon a small cliff near the shoreline overlooking it all. His own gaze hardened with every second he saw the scenes so commonplace and flashbacks of those nights lit by battle fire played in his head. His wife stood by him just as unnerved.

Syn turned to him. "Are you gonna be okay with this?"

"Honestly, I'll be happy if I can just get out of there." He spoke in a strained tone. "I just want to get this over with."

"Well now you sound like a Viking chief. Try to keep that up."

The docks were at the core of it all, going dizzy with men scurrying about like bees in a hive. Their efforts fueled by sparse patience were deemed necessary to turn the clock forward on the old longboats, though memories of sailing seemed to need dusting along with the sails when more than a few setbacks occurred.

Deep scowls were on the face of every Viking who had rope or crate in hand, though they shifted at times to more softer grimaces. More than once someone had fumbled their grip, though not entirely by accident, or handed supplies too forcefully to someone atop the deck of the boat. Entire sections of the deck were torn out in trying to replace a single rotted plank, earning the guilty party at least ten verbal jabs. It was an uneven and endless cycle where any one action triggered a plethora of short bursts yet continued.

About the only one who was in high spirits was the old seafarer Johann. He moved about the deck of the ship with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. "That's it, men, raise the sails! Hoist the oars! Bring us your bountiful offerings! The Isle of Berk shall see hope and prosperity for years to come."

"He's in a chipper mood." Syn noted.

"Call it a job well done." Hiccup noted. "That or he's just happy to be getting out of this alive."

"I think we're all hoping we'll be just as lucky..."

"We shouldn't be going there at all." His fist clenched. "I'm only doing this because they're probably planning on ambushing me with the Berk Armada right now, or what's left of it."

"And that is why we're doing this. Yeah, you don't owe them much, but something has to be done."

"It feels like I'm rewarding a bunch of spoiled brats. But..." He exhaled. "Whatever it takes to get those bastards to back off."

"There you are."

His mother came in on her massive Stormcutter, flowing from her stance on his back with her staff to the roof where he landed. In nearly all the time she had been here she'd kept her distance and observed, almost ferally, retreating into shadows and keeping watch from high vantage. It made her difficult to read, even to her own flesh and blood, who preferred the distance in truth.