Face Value

Part 17

SEVENTEEN

"I'm worried about him, Gobber," Stoick said as he poured hot water into his friend's mug. Gobber had come round to watch the game but the sombre mood had permeated the house so that even the sight of Berk Vikings smashing the Meathead Marauders and their vicious Quarterback, Sjur 'the Skullcrusher' Mickelsen being stretchered off with at least two broken limbs hadn't cheered them up. "He seems...broken." Gobber sipped his steaming coffee, adding another four sugars to the pre-existing three and gave a happy sigh.

"Ah-that hits the spot," he murmured. "Mebbe he's just still feeling under the weather..." Stoick sat down heavily, the reinforced chair creaking alarmingly under his considerable weight.

"I don't think so," he murmured. "After the fire, when he lost his leg, I was really worried. It was a terrible blow for a young man with his whole life ahead of him-but he coped with it stoically."

"Aye-to his Dad," Gobber noted sagely. "But to ole' Gobber, he was able to share his hopes and fears, his instability and his phantom pains. And all those questions. Though the ones about sex had me blushing..."

"Gobber!" Stoick said, his face appalled...and then he looked stricken. "He talked to you about those when he just told me he was alright? Why?" Gobber sighed and tapped his prosthetic hand on the table, the weird thud unnerving.

"He's a sensitive lad," he murmured. "And yuir not the most empathetic of fathers, Stoick." The larger man's eyes widened.

"I..." he mumbled and then he sighed. "Val was the one who connected with the boy," he admitted. "She always seemed to know what she was thinking. I-I always put my foot in it."

"Better not say that to the boy-he'll feel worse," Gobber pointed out knowingly. Stoick sat back and groaned.

"See?" he sighed. "I thought he was alright..."

"Stoick, the lad loves ye dearly and ye have been all he's had since his Mom died," Gobber reminded his friend. "But he knows ye wanted a bold, brave son so he wouldn't want tae burden yer with his troubles. So when he lost his leg, he put his best face on and did everything he could to push on as ye would expect."

"Except he was suffering," Stoick sighed.

"Tae be fair, ye were away a lot and I got tae spend a lot of time with the laddie," Gobber explained. "And don't beat yourself up over it because ye had to do what ye did tae earn a living for ye both. Hiccup understood. And he understands-though I suspect he'll be happier now yuir at home more."

"I'm the worst father ever," Stoick sighed. Gobber sipped his coffee and absently added another couple of teaspoons of sugar.

"Except ye noted he was down," he said.

"His friends have visited every day, especially that lass of his-but he seems no happier," Stoick murmured. "And she has spent all her time with him. Yet he remains in his room, he barely eats and he is almost monosyllabic. He only comes out to toilet Toothless and walk the dog in the yard." Gobber sipped his coffee and gagged.

"How many sugars did you put in this?" he asked in an outraged voice. Raising an eyebrow, Stoick inspected his friend.

"Three-just as you made me promise," Stoick sighed. "You know you added seven more after you got the drink?" Gobber scowled and then sipped his coffee again.

"It's na bad," he commented and took another long pull. "Look, ye know that Spitelout burst in and accused Hiccup of deliberately harming his cousin. Ye know how he took that-because the knowledge he had hurt someone badly, even by accident, would really trouble Hiccup." Stoick nodded.