Frosted Scales - When Worlds Collide: A HTTYD X Frozen Tale

Injuries and Castaways

Toothless lunged toward Elsa, his dark form a blur of muscle and scales. Instinctively, Elsa threw her hands up, bracing for the impact. But instead of colliding with her, the dragon veered at the last moment, leaping past her, and nudging her roughly forward with his snout. She stumbled but quickly regained her footing, hurrying to the man's side.

The wound in his back was serious, the torn flesh a vivid reminder of their earlier encounter, but it was not life-threatening. Elsa’s eyes darted around, searching for something to dress it with. A decade of solitary confinement in a castle, with only books for company, had left her with a wealth of knowledge. Now, she scrambled to recall every detail from the medical journals she had pored over in those lonely summers. Her gaze fell on the blue shawl still draped over her shoulders, its fabric shimmering with residual magic. There was no time to ponder how it remained intact after everything.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa pressed one hand firmly against the wound, her mind racing as she closed her eyes to visualize the words she had read so long ago. "Toothless, can you bring me that blue cloth?" she asked, her voice steady despite the urgency.

The dragon’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. His sharp eyes followed her pointing finger to the blue cloth. With a swift, fluid motion, he retrieved it and dropped it at her feet.

Elsa picked up the cloth, examining its texture. She tried to tear it into strips, but the enchanted fabric resisted her efforts, the weave unyielding beneath her fingers. Frustration flared, but she quickly composed herself. "Could you use your talons to cut here?" she asked, pointing to a spot, and pulling the fabric taut.

Toothless complied with ease, his sharp claws making quick work of the task. As the strips of fabric began to form, the magic within them dissipated, the vibrant blue fading into the original pink of her cloak. It was a better choice, she thought, the fabric becoming more practical as it lost its enchantment.

She carefully peeled away the man's vest, wincing as it stuck to the wound before finally coming free, causing blood to well up again. Her heart clenched at the sight, but she forced herself to focus. With practiced hands, she folded pieces of the pink cloth into makeshift bandages, securing them tightly around his torso with the remaining strips.

"It will have to do until I can get him into a bed. Care to help?" Elsa raised an eyebrow at the dragon, inviting his assistance with a calm she did not entirely feel.

Toothless led her to a tree fort nestled inland, just beyond the coast. A rope ladder dangled from the base of the tree, though several rungs were missing. The winged creature, however, had no trouble bypassing this obstacle. Together, they managed to lift the man up the ladder and into the fort, his weight a constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Inside, Elsa laid him down on what could barely be called a bed—a rectangular wooden frame with hides stretched taut across it. More furs were piled on top, serving as makeshift blankets, and some were folded to resemble pillows. The sight of his still form stirred a deep-seated guilt within her, but she shook it off, focusing on the task at hand.

She gently leaned him forward to inspect the wound, relieved to see that the bleeding had slowed to a trickle beneath the makeshift bandages. Confident her work would hold for now, Elsa turned her attention to the tree fort itself, searching for anything that could help her treat the injury more effectively.

"He must have something tucked away," she muttered to Toothless, who had taken up the role of her silent companion, following her every step. "I have to make sure he's alright. It's only right, after what I did to him."

The tree fort was modest in size, with three octagonal rooms, each about thirty square feet. The crude structure spoke of a solitary existence, pieced together with care but lacking the refinement of a true home. She began her exploration in his bedroom, where books were scattered across the floor and stacked in odd places. Sketches of various contraptions covered the walls, their intricate designs hinting at the man's inventive mind. A small chest beside the cot held an extra set of clothes, which she pulled out and placed on top of the trunk. The chaotic arrangement made sense in its own way, a method to the madness.