My Chieftess... ✨Scripted✨ version

Episode 12: Snuffnut

Hiccup: Are we expecting visitors today? Throk. Uh, did we have plans?

Throk: I am on your shores today to fulfill a mission that is most personal and of the utmost importance.

Hiccup: Okay. How can we help?

Throk: You can point me in the direction of the fragrant savior of this man's very life: Ruffnut Thorston. I am here to lift her off her feet.

Hiccup: Um, do you mean "sweep her off her feet"?

Throk: No. I will lift her from her feet, put her over my shoulder, and return with her to my island, where she will live out her days as my trustworthy wife.

Bodil: What?

Fishlegs: Um, does she know about this?

Throk: Is that important?

Bodil: Are you kidding me?

Hiccup: Hey, hey, hey, hey, calm down. Okay, Throk, we do marriage a little differently around these parts.

Throk: Say no more. Say no more. Sadly we, too, have gone soft over the years. Losing the club has made the retrieval of the bride much more of a struggle.

Bodil: You can't just come in here and—

(Hiccup covers her mouth.)

Hiccup: (hastily) Hey, Fishlegs, this is more your area of expertise. Why don't you take it? Can't wait to hear what you guys decide! Ow! Did you just bite me?? Hey! Oh no no no no! No! No! I asked you for your consent! It wasn't me! Hey, watch it!

Fishlegs: You see, Throk, in today's busy archipelago, the modern woman commands a certain amount of respect. She has a mind of her own. So the whole "stake a claim" speech, not so much.

Throk: But it's so much simpler.

Fishlegs: That may be. However, we've found that asking for a lady's hand is much more effective.

Throk: Then her hand would be a symbol of her eternal devotion.

Fishlegs: Exactly.

Throk: Would she then wear a hook or a claw?

Fishlegs: Let's go back. You need to start by getting Ruffnut interested in you in a romantic, nonviolent way.

Throk: Hmm. I don't see it. Perhaps you would assist me in my endeavors.

Fishlegs: Okay. Uh, how about this? Why not start with an icebreaker? (Gestures to his flower beds) Something that speaks to your affection for her. Go ahead. Pick anything you want.

(Scene switches to Throk, waiting for Ruffnut. She comes on scene.)

Throk: By the Ancients.

(Throk shoves a small shrub in Ruffnut's face)

Ruffnut: Whoa! Shrub to the face. Yep, always a surprise. I suppose a little more roughage in the diet never hurts.

Tuffnut: Ruffnut loves a fresh shrub. What are you up to, Throk?

Throk: Okay, here we go. Ready? A poem for the modern woman. Hair, it smells of flounder. Skin, rough like the coral of a thousand-year-old reef. Lips, dry as jerky made from the giant clam. No hand will be severed from this woman, for she is modern. She is Ruff. She is Nutt. She is Ruffnut.

Ruffnut: That was beautiful, Throk. And so me.

Throk: Ruffnut, will you join me in returning to Defenders of the Wing Island as my permanent guest?

Ruffnut: Sure. Let me check with the other Nut.

Throk: You misunderstand me, dear Ruff. This is an invitation for but one Nut.