Immersed - Part II

Immersed

Summary: Hiccup, overwhelmed by his many duties as chief, is encouraged by his wife Astrid to take a day off and relax. But when has a Viking ever experienced undisturbed recreation? Oneshot split into two parts. Contains spoilers for How To Train Your Dragon 2.

Rating: T

Author’s Note: This turned out to be a pretty long oneshot, so grab some yaknog and sit tight!


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Part II

The quest to prove his masculinity and win Ruffnut’s heart would have propelled Snotlout across the globe if necessary; fortunately Valka had informed him of Hiccup’s location. He now remained utterly motionless beneath the elderberry bushes, his head swimming with strategies of how to acquire the prosthetic leg. The advantage of obtaining it without being detected was fully comprehended by the Viking. If he could but retrieve it while Hiccup and Astrid were occupied, he could effortlessly escape and return to Berk, laying the apparatus at his lady’s feet.

With a mind that didn’t always prove to be functioning, it took Snotlout a considerable length of time to comprehend that a swimming Hiccup meant a removed metal appendage. By the time his brain began to grasp the physics of metal in water, the couple had ceased fondling and had resumed their voyage to shore. Hiccup and Astrid’s slow migration to land passed unbeknownst to Snotlout, however; his eyes were intently focused on a gleaming object upon a rock on the opposite shore. “Yes! The gods must favor me!” Snotlout victoriously declared, restraining his voice to a whisper. “Hiccup just so happens to be without his leg!” Unfortunately this triumph was short-lived; the Viking soon perceived that the chief and his wife were approaching the shore where the metal leg rested.

As Hiccup and Astrid continued to tread water, the woman experienced an odd and sudden urge to tickle her husband. They had presently reached a shallower area of the swamp where the water only reached their abdomens when standing, rendering it the perfect opportunity to act upon the impulse. Thus she commenced the torture, moving her fingers rapidly along Hiccup’s bare midriff. Caused by a mixture of shock and the precarious stability of his sole foot, Hiccup immediately lost his balance and was engulfed by the murky water. Immediately resurfacing, the Viking ravenously strove for revenge. A din of laughter resonated through the forest as the two mercilessly tormented each other with tickling, rendering them entirely distracted. Perhaps the gods did indeed favor Snotlout.

Snotlout, sensing that the perfect opportunity had arisen to acquire the prize undetected, began his stealthy trek around the marsh. Sheltered from sight he slinked through the thick vegetation that surrounded the swamp, cautiously avoiding every loose rock and branch. The hike was treacherous with each root aiming to trip him, every leaf crumbling under his boot, and every bird threatening to tattle. Weaving in and out of countless trees, scrambling over felled logs, and struggling through thorny briers, Snotlout advanced in his quest to impress Ruffnut. His heart pounded viciously in his chest as he warily crept past Toothless and Stormfly. Normally the dragons’ acute senses would have detected the perpetrator, but the blissful sleep induced by the dragon nip left them utterly oblivious. Once he had successfully passed the slumbering dragons only two yards of underbrush remained to be crossed. His body was fatigued from the unfamiliarly cautious movements, causing sweat to pour down his face.

After brushing aside the final fern leaves, Snotlout’s trepidation was alleviated upon beholding the rock where the prosthetic lay. Noting with relief that Hiccup and Astrid’s avid tickle war persisted, the muscular Viking ventured a few feet out of the undergrowth onto the muddy shore. As he lifted the metal leg in his hands satisfaction oozed from every pore, accompanying the pungent sweat that coated his skin. He reluctantly quelled the urge to proclaim his magnificence, recognizing the detrimental effects it would incur. He had completed the seemingly impossible task and was quite ready to flaunt it, planning to declare his masculinity striding down the streets of Berk, arm in arm with Ruffnut. While envisioning the glorious scene his senses seemingly malfunctioned – particularly his eyesight. Upon attempting to retreat into the vegetation, his boot collided with the rock. An acute pain surged upward from his foot as his toe throbbed, eliciting an agonized oath. “Odin!”

The unfortunate blunder was indeed enough to thwart his endeavors. The tickling immediately ceased, leaving Hiccup and Astrid wide-eyed and frozen with shock. Instinctively Astrid ducked lower into the water, concealing all but her head. The last person on earth she wanted to be seen by in nothing but underwear was Snotlout! This brought a crucial question to mind: how long had he been watching them? The query which was frantically running through both of their minds remained frozen on their tongues; the couple was rendered paralyzed by the surprise.

Snotlout was petrified in a more complex stance. Balancing upon one foot as he stroked the injured one through its boot, he held the prosthetic securely under his arm. Carefully returning his wounded foot to the ground, he silently cursed his misfortune. His head was overflowing with regrets, considering how close he had come to success, when Hiccup broke the silence.

“Snotlout, what are you doing with my leg?” the chief asked, wary and perplexed. Although Astrid remained speechless, fiery fury began to boil within her, thawing her frozen frame.

Initially Snotlout attempted to conceal the metal appendage, whisking it behind his back. However, his pompous inner voice convinced him that he was too awesome to act like a shamefaced child caught swiping a cookie. Raising the leg into the air unabashed, the man insolently replied, “I am taking it, Hiccup! And there’s nothing you can do about it!” To display how incredibly brazen he felt, he punctuated that declaration by sticking out his tongue.

Snotlout’s response proved enormously effective in infuriating Astrid. It was odious enough that he intruded on her private time with a Hiccup desperately in need of relaxation; but stealing the crippled Viking’s only means of walking was grossly barbarous! Astrid had always been incredibly territorial, never hesitating to protect what was hers. Hiccup, the dearest person in her life, was certainly more precious to her than any possession. “Snotlout, you give that back right now!” Astrid commanded, restraining her burning rage to a vicious growl.

Although he would have denied it, Snotlout was rendered momentarily terrified by the fury of the girl. He was quite accustomed to her typical outbursts – the tirades six years ago were especially fierce – but he had never witnessed such raw ire before. The fact that she was repressing some of that wrath was horrendous. However, the fear was soon ousted by impudence. Without anything but undergarments, Astrid would not dare emerge from the water, rendering her powerless. As a victorious captor torments the caged beast, Snotlout began to taunt the chief’s wife. “Oh yeah? Well come and make me!”

Astrid was automatically about to arise and head to shore, intent on rending Snotlout to shreds, when the recollection of her state of undress prevented her. Comprehending the utterly helpless situation they were in, for Hiccup was crippled and she was indecent, she released a highly aggravated growl.  A glance at the dragons, who yet remained slumbering obliviously, caused Astrid to regret giving them nip.  Theoretically Hiccup could attempt to swim to shore, stand himself up, and slowly hop over to Snotlout, but obtaining the prosthetic with unsteady balance from the stubborn Viking would be infeasible. Besides, Hiccup greatly preferred the negotiating approach.

“Snotlout! You son of a half-troll, rat-eating munge-bucket!” Astrid hissed, splashing around in frustration.

Hiccup, who vividly remembered being dubbed that particular name six years ago, and who fully understood the rage that accompanied the phrase, placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. Although his gentle touch wasn’t completely successful, it at least caused her to become still. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle this,” he reassured her softly. Shocked and irritated by Snotlout’s antics, Hiccup still attempted to remain calm. He was certain he could convince the foolhardy Viking to release his prosthetic. However, before he could begin the negotiation, Snotlout spoke.

“Ah, I see you can’t,” he taunted Astrid. “Afraid to get out of the water? Honey, no need to be shy. I would be more than happy to see that gorgeous body of yours…” Snotlout winked seductively at Astrid, enjoying every second of this once in a life time opportunity to provoke the fiery Viking.

Though Hiccup was able to maintain his composure in the midst of battle, he too had his breaking point. “No, Snotlout, that is not okay!” he rebuked, his seriousness reflected in icy emerald eyes. While Astrid’s rage was released in a burning conflagration, Hiccup expressed his anger with frigid severity. “Never talk to my wife like that!”As Hiccup glared indignantly at the thieving Viking, Astrid was overwhelmed with utter repulsion for Snotlout and ardent appreciation of her husband. Exceedingly pleased with Hiccup’s response to the affront, she began to cool down and was soon in complete control of her faculties again. Years of experience had taught her to curb her explosive temper, molding her into an affectionate and amiable woman; yet when affronted by such an outrage she had momentarily disregarded her training.

Snotlout, highly disconcerted by the steely glaze in Hiccup’s eyes, immediately stuttered an apology. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I won’t flirt with Astrid!” the man promised frantically, flailing his arms. This earned an approving nod from Astrid, very satisfied with her husband’s success. “Ruffnut’s hotter anyway,” Snotlout added under his breath.

Although it did not elucidate Snotlout’s motives for stealing the metal leg, the bumbling apology was enough to appease the chief, allowing Hiccup to regain his composure. While the icy malice dissolved, the displeasure remained as he began attempts at diplomacy. “Now why are you trying to take my leg, Snotlout?” he inquired, betraying his impatience.

Upon the transformation of “serious business Hiccup” back to “passive Hiccup,” Snotlout re-erected his walls of tenacity. “None of your business,” he answered obstinately, folding his arms across his chest.

“Um, I think it is my business,” Hiccup pointed out, rapidly tiring of the man’s idiocy. “It’s my leg!” After awaiting a reply that never came, the chief continued. “Why are you doing this? You’ve already gotten even with me for the letters with the underwear prank. Ha ha, very funny,” he laughed sarcastically. “They fell off when I was swimming. Happy now?”

Fearing no maiming from Astrid and forgetting Hiccup’s chiefhood, Snotlout persisted in his bullheaded stubbornness, clutching tightly onto the apparatus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hiccup!” he insisted earnestly. “The only letters I’ve been receiving are from future Snotlout, and he’s got some very good advice, thank you very much.”

Hiccup and Astrid simultaneously slapped their foreheads, taken aback by the sheer stupidity of the Jorgenson boy. When the chief had recovered from the shock he asked, “Then why the extra large underpants?”

“Oh that,” Snotlout said with a shrug. “That was revenge for putting my best hammer in jelly.”

“Wow, that was months ago,” Hiccup muttered.

Hoping to further her husband’s more prudent method of reasoning, Astrid reentered the conversation with softer demands. “Snotlout, just give him back the leg please,” she appealed.

Although less intimidating, this new method still proved ineffective; Snotlout’s audaciousness endured through both hatchets and honey. “No can do, Astrid. This is more important than a prank!” In that moment an image of Ruffnut’s face flashed before his eyes, and he grinned widely as he imagined the twin whispering sweet nothings into his ear. “Way more important,” he emphasized.

“I think he’s drooling,” Astrid whispered to Hiccup in disgust.

Hiccup had one more trick stored away that he was willing to employ – the sympathy tactic. Swimming a couple paces forward, he looked upon the adamant man with imploring eyes. “I don’t like to complain much, but life can be very difficult when you’re missing a leg. Every day things like bathing…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!” Snotlout interjected. “Bathing is not every day!”

Ignoring the obnoxious Viking, Hiccup continued. “Things like bathing and swimming and dressing become a little more difficult. I can only hop for so long on one leg when someone’s helping me, and it’s even harder by myself. I’m a terrible dancer with the metal leg and it’s easier to slip on ice. But at least I can walk with it. Imagine if you couldn’t walk, Snotlout. No more fighting, no more training, no more chasing sheep…the list goes on! You wouldn’t even be able to fly Hookfang without a leg! Surely you can understand why my metal leg is so important to me.” He paused for a moment, trying to interpret the blank stare on Snotlout’s face. Heaving a sigh, he beseeched, “so please…will you give me back my leg?”

Astrid and Hiccup stared at the muscular man, waiting with bated breath for him to speak. Snotlout remained silent for a few more moments, appearing to be processing Hiccup’s heartfelt words. Rubbing his chin, he began to visibly ponder. At length he spoke. “Nope, sorry!” Before the couple had time to react, Snotlout stuck his fingers in his mouth and produced a high pitch whistle, summoning Hookfang from the forest. As soon as the Monstrous Nightmare alighted beside his master, Snotlout mounted him as fast as Thor’s lightning, clutching tightly onto the metal leg. As Hookfang began flapping his wings and ascending, Snotlout shouted “later!” with an exultant cackle before he and his dragon vanished into the cloudy sky.

No amount of time was provided for a lengthy discourse about the atrocity of Snotlout, or for a few brief exclamations. Not a word passed between them as they immediately sprang into action, heading rapidly toward shore. Astrid provided the customary shoulder for Hiccup as they reached the bank, their movements hurried and clumsy. Both caution and agility were required for Astrid as she assisted her husband to the rock where the clothes remained. Although what had transpired was contemptible, she was grateful to every god that Snotlout had not additionally swiped their clothes. She could only imagine in what a predicament two unclothed Vikings would be at that moment. Rumors had been circulating about licentious habits of the chief and his wife; a return to Berk in their underwear would undeniably confirm the gossip.

Hiccup rested his overused foot as he perched on the boulder, sliding on his tunic and pants over his dripping body. Astrid donned only the bare minimum of her attire, forgoing the shoulder pads, fur hood, and arm bands. These items were hastily crammed into Stormfly’s saddle bag after she had roused the dragons from their slumber. Once she had discarded the spoiled fish and stale potatoes, she vaulted into Toothless’ saddle, yanking Hiccup up behind her. Properly adjusting the Night Fury’s artificial tail, Astrid instructed the dragon to ascend.

The raven colored dragon promptly obeyed, but glanced back at his riders with a befuddled warble. Why wasn’t Master steering him?

“Hurry, bud,” Hiccup encouraged, patting the Night Fury’s flank. “We need to catch Hookfang. Snotlout has my metal leg!” Apparently comprehending the Viking’s explanation, Toothless flapped his wings rapidly to increase his velocity. Stormfly diligently trailed behind them, always remaining in sight of the swift Night Fury. As the two dragons glided through the air like lightning, the bright orange sun began its slow descent into the ocean.

Because they caught no glimpse of a Monstrous Nightmare during their flight back to Berk, the two concluded that the crafty Viking had returned to the island by another route, perhaps through the western sea stacks. There was no debate about whether Snotlout had indeed returned to Berk; the setting sun indicated that night was approaching, and the Jorgenson preferred to remain close to home after dark.

As they alighted in front of Hiccup’s newly constructed personal dragon stable, the couple spotted Valka harvesting potatoes in the adjacent garden. Noticing their arrival, the Viking woman dropped her spade and strolled over to them, holding a woven basket full of root vegetables. “How was the picnic, you two?” she asked genially.

“Didn’t exactly go as planned,” Hiccup replied, gesturing to his stub of a leg. A gasp escaped Valka’s lips as she perceived that her son’s metal leg was absent. She gazed at the couple with concern, her eyes beseeching them for enlightenment.

“Snotlout stole it,” Astrid explained, alleviating Valka’s fear of a disaster. Dismounting the Night Fury, she added, “For some sick joke.”

As Valka and her daughter-in-law assisted the crippled man off of his dragon, the worried mother expressed, “That was very cruel of your cousin! I thought you two were friends.”

“Eh, not exactly,” Hiccup confessed, stabilizing himself against Astrid’s shoulder. “We were on decent terms for a while, but I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Touched by the deep concern in his mother’s eyes, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “But don’t you worry, I’ll handle it,” he assured her.

“Actually, Hiccup, I’d like to handle it,” Astrid interjected, smirking mischievously. “That boy does not mess with my husband and get away with it!”Although she was greatly sickened by Snotlout’s crass words to her, her chief motive for volunteering was to avenge her spouse. Without waiting for Hiccup’s response, she darted into the nearby weaponry shed and returned with her axe, a long handled instrument with a sharp lustrous blade. If Hiccup had not been quickly supported by his mother when his wife departed, Astrid would have found him sprawled in the dirt.

The restless gleam in Astrid’s eye, combined with his state of debilitation, proved successful in convincing Hiccup. “Be my guest, Milady,” he consented with a courtly bow. The irritation from earlier had dissipated, leaving a quite content and amused Viking. He had full confidence in his wife, expecting that she would return with his leg before the sun had vanished into the sea. “Just try not to mutilate him too much,” he added with a chuckle.

“Nah, I think a good castration will do the trick,” Astrid commented casually, admiring her razor-sharp axe. “It’ll fix all his behavioral issues.”

Even though Hiccup could perceive the covert jesting in her voice, his body nevertheless winced in pain at the thought of emasculation. “I don’t think you need to take it that far,” he remarked.

At the visible tension of her son’s lanky frame, Valka released a hearty laugh. “Ah, just like your father,” she scolded, shaking her head. “Always disturbed by a good castration threat.”

The two females shared a few laughs before Astrid returned to the task at hand. “Well I better go find him,” she said. “It shouldn’t be too hard; I can already smell him!” Thus she swiftly departed, following the fetid scent of Snotlout’s body odor.

Upon learning that Hiccup hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, Valka ushered her son into the kitchen where a savory stew was simmering.

By the time Astrid caught a glimpse of Snotlout’s ram-horned helmet, she found herself in green pastures on the outskirts of the village. Closer observation afforded a clearer picture of the scene: Snotlout stood in the middle of the field with Ruffnut, Fishlegs, and Meatlug, surrounded by a grazing herd of sheep. Sensing that the situation was tense, Astrid only crept close enough to hear the conversation, staying out of sight behind a large cluster of sneezeworts and blue anemone.

“Snotlout, why are you interrupting our romantic date of sheep wrangling?” Fishlegs inquired with puzzlement. He reluctantly dropped a large black sheep, a trophy he had evidently obtained for his lady. “And why are you holding Hiccup’s metal leg?”

“None of your business, Ingerman!” Snotlout sneered defensively. Turning to Ruffnut, he knelt on one knee and presented the prosthetic leg. “For you, my love,” he gushed, his tone much softer. “No task is too difficult for your man, the greatest Viking the world has ever known.” Dotingly he stooped down and deposited a kiss onto her boot.

“Ew, get away from me!” Ruffnut spat, repulsion evident in her face. “I don’t want that metal thing!” To emphasize her point, the twin kicked Snotlout’s helmet, expelling him from her personal bubble.

A mixture of indignation, shock, and chagrin swelled within Snotlout at Ruffnut’s rebuff. “What?” he hollered. “You asked me specifically to retrieve Hiccup’s darned leg!”

“Eh, I don’t remember that,” Ruffnut responded, feigning ignorance. “That must have been Tuffnut.”

Despite Ruffnut’s obtuse expression Snotlout wasn’t deceived into believing the error had been his; he distinctly recalled gazing at Ruffnut’s semi-feminine features that morning. “No, I’m positive it wasn’t Tuffnut!”

Fishlegs, delighted by his inevitable victory, allowed a soft giggle to escape his lips. As soon as this sound reached Snotlout’s ears, his brain only required one more clue - Fishlegs’ giddy grin - to solve the mystery.

“You were just trying to get rid of me!” he accused, glaring lividly at Ruffnut. “To spend time with him!” It was with great repugnance and jealousy that he thrust a pointing finger at Fishlegs.

“Yeah, so what if I did?” retorted Ruffnut, bringing her face close to Snotlout’s to display her intensity. After glaring the proverbial daggers at the Viking for a few seconds, the girl withdrew. “He has way more muscle than you.” Fishlegs ostentatiously flexed his gigantic arms, boasting the limbs that Ruffnut admired.

“Muscle?” Snotlout exploded, his voice cracking in a way that hadn’t occurred since he was thirteen. As he threw his arms into the air, the metal leg nearly slipped from his grasp. “That’s not muscle! That’s blubber! I don’t see what you see in him!”

“Well Eret has disappeared and Fishlegs is my second option!” Ruffnut snapped. Fishlegs beamed with pride, thrilled about being his true love’s number two choice.

“He’s probably hiding from you!” Snotlout rejoined.

“Yeah? Well you’re so disgusting that your own dragon hides from you!”

“He does not!”

“Does too!”

“When?”

“Last Thursday.”

“We were playing hide-and-seek!”

“Uh-huh. Just keep telling yourself that.”

Snotlout, thoroughly aggravated by how his day had unfolded, emitted an exasperated growl to release the tension. While he was occupied by cursing every god the Vikings revered, Ruffnut and Fishlegs utilized his distraction by escaping on Meatlug. By the time he had cooled down enough to perceive his surroundings, he found himself alone in a field of mindless sheep. In what he believed was utter despondency, he lifted his arms to the sky and groaned. “Why can’t I get a girl? First I struck out with Astrid, and now Ruffnut? What’s wrong with me? I’m gorgeous, intelligent, hilarious, valiant…”

“Idiotic,” a voice added as the metal leg disappeared from his raised arms.

“Idiotic…” he included mechanically. “Wait, what?” The unpleasantness of Snotlout’s day increased tenfold when he whirled around to find Astrid glaring at him. She grasped the prosthetic firmly in one hand and her axe in the other, smirking with the satisfaction of a huntress cornering her prey. “Thor, I’m screwed,” he squeaked.

“What, you didn’t think there would be consequences to stealing the chief’s leg, provoking his wife, and acting like a complete idiot?” Astrid asked, taking a step forward. This action was met with Snotlout retreating a few paces.

Aware that feigning innocence was impossible, Snotlout attempted to choke out an explanation. He tried to dispel his terror even though he recognized that punishment was inevitable. “I know I shouldn’t have taken it, Astrid. And I’m really sorry for speaking so rudely to you two and intruding on your disturbing make out session…” he stuttered. Astrid couldn’t prevent her cheeks from reddening at this statement, but she allowed him to continue. “But Ruffnut challenged my manhood! I had to prove my manliness to her to win her heart!”

“Well that certainly backfired, didn’t it?” Astrid observed casually, fingering her axe.

Snotlout’s eyes dilated in fright as the angry Viking raised her weapon. “Yeah, so have some compassion on my broken heart!” he implored.

“You showed Hiccup no compassion when you stole his leg. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you just yet,” Astrid assured him, a vengeful glint in her eyes. Instead of going on a rampage like she had attempted at Dragon Fart Swamp, she decided upon a quicker, more effective method of retaliation. In one fluid movement she dropped her axe, clenched her fist, and commenced delivering painful blows to Snotlout’s sturdy jaw. The man had no time to cry out, for the sentence was executed suddenly and swiftly. After a few sharp punches she relented, leaving him crimson-faced and aching. “That’s for taking Hiccup’s leg!” she stated, placing her hands on her hips.

Once the world had ceased spinning for Snotlout, he released a moan and rubbed his tender jaw. Hope had no deserted him, however; he recognized the start of one of Astrid’s signature actions – smack and smooch. Over the years whenever the girl had a quarrel with Hiccup, she would release her fury with her fist and then apologize with a kiss. “Are you gonna kiss me now?” he asked expectantly, meeting her satisfied gaze.

“In your dreams,” Astrid answered coolly. With full composure and dignity, she yanked the brawny man up by his fur cape and flung him aside, landing him in an enormous pile of Gronkle dung. “And that’s for everything else.” With a triumphant grin she dusted off her hands, retrieved her axe, and sauntered away, leaving the hooligan fully immersed in a putrid heap of manure.

The sun had completely descended into the sea by the time Astrid returned home, leaving the night crisp and serene. After pausing in the kitchen to munch on Hiccup’s leftovers, she headed for the study, certain to find him poring over his father’s logs. A dying candle sat upon the desk, whimsically illuminating the features of a sleeping Viking. “Hey, you,” she greeted as she entered. “Hard at work I see.”

Stirred by Astrid’s presence, Hiccup lifted his face from an open book and grinned sheepishly. As his eyes fell upon the prosthetic in her hand, relief washed over his face. “Oh good, you got it back.” After receiving the appendage from his wife, he fastened it onto his stub of a leg and arose. “I was really starting to miss this.” Once he had completed a few celebratory laps around the cramped study, he returned to his seat. “Do I even want to know Snotlout’s condition?”

“Probably best not to ask, babe,” Astrid replied with a chuckle. In especially high spirits from the thrill of victory, she slid onto her husband’s lap and wrapped her arms around his body.

“Didn’t we do this earlier today?” Hiccup joked as his wife began gently caressing his lips. Returning to the current topic, he inquired, “Did you ever learn why in Thor’s name he needed to steal my leg?”

“Oh yes, and it’s quite comical,” she responded with a giggle. Situating herself comfortably on his lap, ensuring that no spike on her skirt punctured him, she commenced the story. “Ruffnut told him to retrieve your leg or he wasn’t a true man. Obviously he obeyed, because you know how desperately he tries to prove his manliness. But in reality Ruffnut was just trying to get rid of him so she could spend time with Fishlegs!” She concluded the tale with a hearty laugh. “Normally I might feel a little sympathy for Snotlout, but he just crossed the line today.”

“I guess Ruffnut’s finally chosen a guy then,” Hiccup surmised. “I wish she could have left my leg out of it though.”

“Well you are the chief,” Astrid reminded, tracing the freckles that dotted his nose. “You have all the right to reprimand Snotlout – and maybe even Ruffnut – if you see fit.”

Hiccup paused for a moment and pondered, considering all his viable options. A formal warning, a community service project, temporary incarceration, and stable-cleaning duty were all possibilities. However, his ever increasing to-do list loomed over him like a Bewilderbeast. “How exactly did you take care of him?” he asked his wife.

An impish grin bedecked Astrid’s face as she relayed the details. “Nothing extravagant, just the tried-and-true Viking way. I gave him a few good punches and then threw him into a pile of Gronkle poop.”

This form of punishment came as no surprise to the chief. “That’s my Astrid,” Hiccup chuckled affectionately, stroking her bare shoulder. The soft glow of the flickering candle illumined her golden hair, intensifying her goddess-like radiance.  “I might have a few words with him next time I run into him, but I think he’s learned his lesson,” he decided. Returning his gaze to the books strewn across his desk, he heaved a sigh. “I’ve got too many other problems to worry about.”

“Still stuck on the Varg and Haldor case?” she asked curiously, recalling the particular predicament that had vexed him that morning. She rested her back against the side of the desk, awaiting his response.

“Yep,” the chief replied with weariness. “The whole Snotlout fiasco didn’t exactly help clear my mind.” He pushed his bangs aside and began rubbing his temples.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Astrid apologized. Although she had possessed no way of predicting the outcome of their innocent vacation, she felt slightly responsible for dragging Hiccup into the ordeal.

Detecting a crestfallen note in her voice, the Viking was quick to refute. “No, no, no!” he expressed with a smile, lifting her chin. “I had a wonderful day with you! It was just what I needed. How were you supposed to know that Snotlout would show up? Don’t blame yourself.” To express his gratitude for an enjoyable afternoon, he planted a tender kiss on her nose.

Astrid, sufficiently encouraged by her doting husband, returned his grin. A glance at the bags under his eyes recalled her attention to the present dilemma. “I wish I could help you with this mediation problem, but I’m as stumped as you are,” she admitted. “You’ve done all you can but neither man will let up!”

“That’s alright, dear, you’ve been a big help by dealing with Snotlout,” Hiccup assured her. As his fingers wandered absentmindedly through her hair, his brain likewise began to drift. His mind was envisioning a dung-covered Snotlout, beaten and bruised by his fierce Viking wife. Viking. That word seemed to protrude, tumbling around in his head like tumultuous waves. Astrid had one particular style of settling disputes, while his was entirely different. His was more similar to his mother’s method– calm and logical – while his wife’s tended to mirror his father’s rough-and-tumble ideology. At the thought of his father, a phrase from Stoick’s first log book reappeared in his mind, a sentence he had read just before dozing off. Invigorated by his sudden inspiration, he snatched the open volume from the desk and began skimming it.

“What?” Astrid inquired, intrigued by his abrupt movement.

“You’re a genius, Astrid!” Hiccup exclaimed, his eyes rapidly scanning the page. “You and my father!”

“What? Have you found a way to deal with Varg and Haldor?” the chief’s wife asked buoyantly. She peered over the book he was holding, hoping to decipher the upside down scribbles.

“I have indeed!” Hiccup confirmed vivaciously. Astrid’s eyes eagerly urged him to clarify, so he pointed to a paragraph on the page. “Just listen to this.” Drawing a large breath, he began to read the selection in his Stoick-imitating voice. “Tried convincing Mildew to stop filing bogus complaints. Didn’t work. Clubbed him on the head. Results were more satisfactory.”

Because the passage from Stoick’s chief logs did not elucidate Hiccup’s brilliant idea, Astrid was compelled to jest. “I’ll go fetch your club,” she volunteered, rising from his lap.

“No, no,” Hiccup laughed, yanking her back down. “That’s not what I mean. Just listen.” He grasped her arms securely, preventing her from escaping his clutches. “This was one of my father’s first logs as chief. He was still pretty young when he wrote it. He tried my classic method of negotiating but it didn’t work. As he would always tell me, you got to act like a Viking. But I don’t tend to do that, do I? While I prefer the more civil approach, I now see the necessity of that method. You’ve proven today that the ‘tried-and-true’ Viking way does the trick when nothing else will.”

Pleasantly surprised that her husband was considering her method of choice, a manner she did not believe he would ever employ as chief, Astrid rested her hand on his shoulder.“Well Varg the Vicious and Haldor the Horrible are Vikings,” she agreed, gratified by her husband’s epiphany. “And very stubborn ones.”

“Yep,” Hiccup nodded. “My dad was right. Sometimes you just gotta treat Vikings like Vikings. No more negotiations with these two,” he proclaimed resolutely. “I’ll save the civilized discussions for bickering old ladies and more reasonable villagers.”

Astrid gave his shoulder an approving squeeze, impressed by her husband’s chief-like decisiveness. “Great plan.” Her eyes glimmered with tremendous love for her husband, recognizing that with his unique methods and his father’s conventional ones, he was shaping into the best chief Berk had ever known. “So what are you going to do? Sick Toothless on them? Pummel them with your adorably lanky body?” She pronounced the word “adorably” with particular emphasis as her arms traveled down his back, encircling him in a tight embrace.

“No, silly,” Hiccup chuckled, responding by squeezing her curvy frame. “I’ll just hand them each a bludgeon and let them settle it like Vikings.”

“Sounds good,” his wife expressed “No need for the high and mighty chief to interfere in their petty squabble,” she teased in a doting tone, pinching his slender arm. After a few more strokes to his undersized bicep, Astrid decided that discussing obstinate Vikings was no longer invigorating. Wriggling out of his grasp, she arose from his lap, retaining his hand in hers. Giggling at the markedly disappointed look on Hiccup’s face, she gazed at him with an exceptionally captivating glimmer. “But that can wait till morning. Come to bed with me.” Her sapphire eyes sparkled beneath her golden bangs, irresistibly beckoning him to join her.

Hiccup would have been undeniably insane and insensate to resist the lure of his enticingly beautiful wife. Heeding every instinct that surged within him, he abandoned his lackluster desk and accompanied her into their bedroom loft. Before removing his metal leg, however, his clouded mind cautioned him to lock the door to prevent any more peeping Vikings. Releasing every burden and tension of the day, Hiccup and Astrid Haddock immersed themselves in rapturous ecstasy, a paradise more relaxing and intoxicating than Dragon Fart Swamp could have ever been.

The End