Moving In

Stoick stood in the open doorway and studied the inside. All the furniture was on the right side of the room, and almost every crate. Scuff marks showed an effort to move the heavy barrels before common sense broke out and they abandoned the idea. He heard footsteps, thumping, and snatches of conversation from upstairs.

Snotlout was moving in.

Stoick forced a path through the furnishings. He knew the house would be a wreck, and that neither Hiccup nor Snotlout would remember details like closing the door or leaving him a path to navigate the downstairs. He expected the bangs and muttering and occasional sounds of injury, indicated by creative cursing and a sudden lowering of their voices; in no way did they want him hearing the more colorful language they knew. Stoick poured himself a tankard of mead and settled into his chair. He dropped by to witness—well, overhear—the move-in.

The muttering grew louder, and Stoick caught the tone of Hiccup’s voice. Stoick’s years of familiarity with his son taught him every nuance of how the boy spoke. His voice was a guide to his moods, and Stoick heard restraint battling with shades of frustration, irritation, obstinacy, and a measure of it’s-my-room, Snotlout. Stoick’s nephew was using his default setting: stubborn, annoying, and smug.

“Snotlout, what are you doing?” Stoick noted a dragging noise.

“I’m moving my bed to that corner. Why did you leave it at the top of the stairs, anyway? It’s a stupid location.”

“I left it there because it’s my bed, not yours.”

“It was your bed. Now I’m here it’s mine, because I’m a guest. You have to show hospitality to me, or you’re dishonored, right?”

Stoick raised an eyebrow. An interesting ploy and not one he expected from his nephew. Snotlout did not bother with tribal etiquette; he looked that up to harass Hiccup. Stoick awarded him a point.

“No. You are not poor or homeless or a visiting dignitary. I am not surrendering my bed to you.”

“You have to, cuz. I need a place to get my beauty rest and there’s nowhere else to sleep.” The smugness was taking precedence.

“There’s a floor, Snotlout. You’re sleeping there.” Hiccup had focused on it’s-my-room, a battle he lost before Snotlout entered the house.

“What! No way am I sleeping on the floor while you get the bed, Hiccup. I need to be comfortable. So far, you’re doing a rotten job of making me welcome, y’know.”

“It only fits one person, or I’d share with you.” Stoick snorted. Liar. “You have plenty of room on the floor, more than I do in the bed. I’ll make sure you have extra blankets. I’ll even let you have my furs.”

“I’m not giving you the bed, Hiccup.” Stoick imagined the scene: Hiccup glaring at his cousin, trying to out-stubborn Snotlout, while his nephew folded his arms and acted like Hiccup needed an introduction to reality.

“It’s my bed. You can’t give me something you don’t possess.” His son had moved on to his are-you-serious tone, and Stoick grinned. Snotlout was winning. He knew exactly what buttons to push to rile Hiccup. His son was fortunate Snotlout was not claiming the entire loft, though he was capable of trying that stunt.

“Look, cuz, you’re a shrimp. If there’s plenty of room on the floor for me, then there’s even more for you. Besides, that giant rock takes up a lot of space. You’d have room for another bed if you ditched it.”

“It is a bed. Toothless sleeps on that slab.”

Ah. Hiccup had an untouched reservoir of boar-headedness about anything affecting Toothless, and Snotlout found it. His son was less willing to sacrifice his dragon’s comfort than his own and certainly not to his muttonhead cousin. He wondered if Snotlout knew about this.

“Well, he doesn’t need to, not when I’m living here.” No, he was clueless.

“What do you think I should do, Snot? Get rid of the slab? Evict Toothless? Buy you furniture?” Hiccup’s tone had an edge to it. Stoick rose and strode to the door. He wanted nothing to do with this argument. Stoick heard one last remark before he left.

“Yeah, all those. Then I’d feel like you actually cared about my welfare.”

Toothless lay outside, and lifted his head to watch Stoick. The dragon was curious about his departure, and Stoick took a moment to speak with him. “Toothless. Hiccup and Snotlout are working out arrangements for sharing the room. You might want to listen from out here before you go inside. I’m heading to the forge.” Stoick warned the dragon, and Toothless leapt to the roof outside Hiccup’s room.

Stoick was relating the tale to Gobber when Toothless arrived. He gave a snort to Stoick, settled himself in the door of the forge and took a nap. He did not want to be there, either.

§ § §

Stoick was halfway up the slope to the house when he heard them. The door was open again; looking inside, he spotted several missing stools and a scattering of items he knew were stored this morning. He was two crates fewer, and he suspected they were trying to find storage.

“How much did you bring, Snotlout?” Hiccup sounded aggrieved.

“A few things. I wasn’t gonna abandon all my stuff—I need it to feel comfortable.” Upstairs storage was limited, but Hiccup had never needed required more than a few shelves, some hooks, and a pair of chests. Finding a place to store Snotlout’s belongings had become a problem. “Sheesh. You are so selfish. It’s just five shelves.”

“I only have six total.”

“Pfftt. You don’t need them all. It’s not like you own a lot of clothes, or you wouldn’t be wearing the same ones every day.” Why his nephew believed Hiccup did not require storage for his clothes was a mystery. “I’m not hauling a lot of that here. I’ve got my tunic, vest, and a pair of pants.”

The house became silent. Hiccup broke it, asking, “How many changes of clothes did you bring?”

“What I got on. Why? Do you expect more, because I don’t need more than that.”

“Um, yeah, you do. You’re going to reek if you don’t change them.” Stoick heard Hiccup try to hide his horror. “You do change your underwear, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. When I remember, anyway.”

“Errgh. Snotlout, that’s just...You know what, never mind. Again, why do you need so many shelves if you don’t have clothes?”

“I have other stuff to put on them. Gimme that crate on the left and I can show you.”

“What’s in here, Snotlout? This box weighs more than you do. It might weigh more than my dad.” I will remember that, son.

“You’re such a wimp, Hiccup. That's valuable property, and the weight isn’t important compared to what’s inside. Open it and be amazed, cuz.”

“Your Thawfest medals? Okay, I can see why you’d want those, but I still don’t know what the rest of this stuff is.” Stoick heard rustling noises. “Wait, these can’t all be yours. There’s too many.”

“Nope, those are all mine. I am the keeper of the Jorgenson Thawfest medals, a honor and a responsibility only the best of us receive. I don’t expect you to understand about that—you’re only a Haddock.”

Oh, nephew, you will regret that remark.

“Did you really just go there, Snotlout?”

“Look, I get that you’re jealous of all this greatness I possess, but you have to accept Jorgensons are born exceptional and live with it.”

“You believe that House Haddock knows nothing about honor and responsibility.” Hiccup’s tone was incredulous.

“Sure, you know some, with the whole Chief thing...”

“Oh, so you do remember we’re the Chieftain’s line—I thought you might have forgotten that detail.” He measured out each word.

“I remember. It doesn’t matter. Uncle Stoick’s decent at being Chief, but a lot of what he says is hot air, telling people what to do as if we can’t think for ourselves. You guys are nothing special.”

Stoick almost announced himself, but Hiccup got there first; he heard it in his son’s voice—Snotlout had pushed him too far.

“Take it back Snotlout.”

“Why? It’s not like it’s a big deal. Everyone knows it’s true; they’re too afraid of your dad to stand up and say it.”

“Take it back.”

Stoick heard the hardness. He knew his son was proud to be a Haddock, but never grasped Hiccup was so fiercely protective of the family line, and his tone said it all. Hiccup would only put up with insults when circumstances forced him into it. He did not have to accept this from Snotlout, and would not be kind to his cousin.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know it’s hard to hear—I’ll drop it if you’re going to get touchy. We have to get back to putting my medals away, anyway. I’m gonna...”

“You refuse to apologize, Snotlout?”

“I don’t need to, Hiccup. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Stoick heard exasperation in his nephew’s voice. He ought to interrupt, but Hiccup would not hurt Snotlout and he wanted to see where this led. This was new territory and he had to know Hiccup’s mind.

“You promoted yourself as being better because you are a Jorgenson. You assured me my family line is nothing special. You admitted you know Clan Haddock is the Chieftain’s line, but stated we had only some honor. You derided every Chief that existed on Berk: Hamish I and Hamish II, Hiccup Horrendous I and Hiccup Horrendous II, and all the others. Those statements are dishonorable, and bring shame to Clan Jorgenson.”

“Hey! You can’t say that.”

Snotlout would not escape this reckoning; Hiccup was using the precise speech that surfaced when he was furious. There were no contractions, no questionable terms, and no flexibility. He was laying out the facts in sharp detail, and using tribal law and conventions against his cousin. Snotlout earned his son’s wrath, and this was a challenge Stoick dare not stop.

“You spoke ill of your Chief, Stoick the Vast, who is allowing you to stay in his home, in Haddock House, home of the Chieftain line on Berk. You stated that he is inferior to your line. You attacked the man who has ruled this tribe for over two decades with honor and strength you know nothing about. He was the one who worked to keep the Hooligans safe and fed against every hardship and obstacle.” Hiccup gave a sharp exhale. “He fought ceaselessly to keep this tribe healthy and strong. He battled pirates. He fought against Dagur the Deranged, Alvin the Treacherous, and every other enemy that came for us. He rose from his bed nights beyond number to fight dragons and to lead everyone in the fight, then started people rebuilding the village.” Snotlout cleared his throat. He had never seen Hiccup this angry, and Stoick gave a grim smile.

“Stoick the Vast works alongside his people. No task is too small because every job needs doing to take care of the Hooligan tribe on Berk. If others refuse to work, Stoick the Vast steps in where necessary. He is known throughout the archipelago as a great man, an example to others, and a formidable adversary.”

Anyone who saw him then would see the look of astonishment on his face; Hiccup’s ferocity belonged on a battlefield, not in his home defending Stoick. He noticed a shadow in the door: Toothless. The dragon stalked in, heard Hiccup’s angry speech, and snarled up the steps. He studied the room and sat down in front of Stoick, watching both the stairs and the doorway. Toothless stood alongside Hiccup to protect him.

Stoick was gobsmacked.

Hiccup’s voice filled the house. His tongue-lashing had grown progressively louder and more forceful; people would overhear. Stoick knew Toothless would not move, and after this, there would be consequences. All he could do was listen.

“You have attacked and belittled me, laughed at and jeered and insulted me. You have offered deliberate offense to every Haddock in this line. You have insulted all the previous Chiefs, my ancestors. Wherever any of them are now, neither they nor I care about the opinions of Snotlout Gary Jorgenson.” Stoick knew people were gathering outside. This would spread quickly, and there was no stopping it.

“You spoke disparagingly against your Chief, Stoick the Vast. By stating I was only a Haddock, you asserted all Haddocks are inferior. You knew you spoke of the Chieftain’s line, and said it did not matter. You stated that a lot of what your Chief says is hot air, that he tells people what to do, and that he does not believe the people in the tribe can think for themselves.” Stoick heard a gasp. Snotlout would suffer for this attempt to get under Hiccup’s skin.

“You stated that your Chief came from a clan you thought was nothing special and everyone knew it, that the Hooligan tribe feared standing up to their Chief and telling him that. I provided you with opportunities to rescind your statements, and you stated you did no wrong. My father is your uncle. You attacked your kin, Snotlout. It hope your petty harassment is worth the result, cousin.” The last word was a hiss. Hiccup lowered his voice.

“I am the Heir to Berk. As Heir, it is my duty to work alongside my father and protect every member of this tribe, including him. I can easily challenge you for the insults against myself and my father. I can challenge you because as kin, you may desire to take my place. I can challenge you for the threat against my father—if you conspire to take my place as Heir, you may also try taking his place as Chief.”

“Hiccup. Please, I’m sorry, I...” Hiccup cut him off.

“You want to apologize? You failed to think first? You did not mean it?”

“Uh, yeah. All of those.”

“It does not matter. You promoted yourself and your clan over mine, offered multiple insults, and refused to take them back. You needlessly condemned the actions of your Chief. You are a kinsman who he chose to let live here, and you cared only about gratifying your ego.” Hiccup stopped pacing and Stoick heard the heaviness in his next words.

“You can never mention this to anyone, including Uncle Spitelout. It will damage him, and I do not allow it. You will anger the tribe with how you spoke against my father. Some will be offended you spoke against me and the Haddock line. The Jorgensons will be shamed and I will hear demands to challenge you. My refusal is certain to further rile people.” Hiccup paused, and Stoick wondered what his son would say next. “Whether I offer challenge or not, you will lose. It will not matter if you beat me in the fight. The tribe will remember why there was a challenge, and you will still lose. Defeating me will not fully restore honor to the Jorgenson clan; you insulted all of clan Haddock, and your Chief in particular. You insulted me as well, and none of it was necessary. You trained under Uncle Spite and your fighting skill is superior to mine. It will be seen as an unfair fight. My skill won’t matter; this tribe is good at judging by appearances and you already lost. Put another way, only Mildew might support you. Some will want permanent exile or outcasting. There will be members of your clan that want you cast out.” The pacing stopped, and Stoick imagined his son bowed under the weight of the past ten minutes.

“If Dad knew about this, he would have an obligation to do something. I have to, as his son and the Heir and a member of this tribe, lie to my dad and my Chief. I have to deceive an island’s worth of people because of what you said. I will lie to people who expect to trust me, people I will have to lead one day, who look to me for answers already.” The depth of this deceit would hurt Hiccup and he would feel guilty about this choice for years. “I am breaking the law so I do not divide this tribe, permit shame to clan Jorgenson, put my dad in an impossible position, and destroy your father. I am pretending you never insulted my clan or myself. I am accepting without challenge your attacks on my father, and you have no notion how little I want to offer mercy for that. You backed me into a corner, and I am attempting to save you, whether you deserve it or not. You lack honor and I am sacrificing mine because I have no other choice.”

“Hiccup...” Stoick heard the shame in his nephew’s voice. Hiccup ignored him.

“One final thing, Snotlout. You accused me jealousy. I could spend the rest of my life making nails in the forge, a dull life with no battle glory and no chance to prove myself, and never envy you. I have Stoick the Vast as my father, and there is no greater honor.” Stoick felt Toothless lie down, and leaned over to scratch his son’s dragon. Hiccup’s voice drifted down the stairs.

“Now shut up and find a home for your frickin’ Thawfest medals.”