AN: My apologies for the delay; life got a little busy, but I hope it's worth the wait!

part 6.

She was out the door running past the former chief before the name had fallen fully from her lips, despite her breath still coming short to her lungs from her earlier run.

The village elder's hut sat high above the other houses like an eagle's perch, but before they could cross the village centre Gobber hailed them down. He'd stepped out of the mead-hall, and Astrid made a brief note of the lack of villagers, and the noise coming from the hall.

Stoick waved him off. "I dun' have time right now, Gobber, we–"

"Oh, if it's about the lad gone missing, you've time for this," he interrupted, nodding towards the mead-hall at his back, where a murmur of voices rose like a steady tide, now that Astrid knew to listen for it.

"But we need to speak to Gothi. Can't this wait?" Impatience drummed along her veins on nervous feet, but the blacksmith didn't seem to be quite as concerned about the situation. If anything, he seemed a bit...off. Weird.–

"It could, but I dun' think you'll want ta keep her waitin'," he said. "And the old hag's in there, anyhow, if it's her yer after."

Valka frowned. "Keep who waiting, Gobber?"

The smith looked between them, before shaking his head. "You all better see this fer yerselves," he muttered, as he waved them inside, and any further protests Astrid had were lost at the sight of what appeared to be the whole of Berk gathered in the hall.

"She showed up earlier out o' the blue," the blacksmith said, wonder in his voice. "Said she was lookin' fer Stoick, and that she had news on the lad." He shrugged. "Dun' look at me; I didn't even kno' he was missin'."

The one Gobber spoke of sat at the head of the table furthest in, unmistakable amongst the vikings present. It was a woman, though Astrid found it hard to determine whether she was young or old or even of middle age. But she was beautiful, and striking in her white dress and warrior's gilded regalia, hair like spun gold and wild about her shoulders, her bare feet bloodstained and red like her grinning mouth.

"Stoick the Vast," she greeted fondly, as one would greet an old friend, and she rose from her seat to meet them on their approach. Her smile was kind beneath her cat's grey eyes, and amusement winked in their depths. "Or do they call you other names, now?"

To Astrid's surprise, the retired chief laughed. "My Lady Valfreyja." He bowed his head in return, and a stunned hush fell over the crowd at the show of familiarity – and, Astrid guessed, the revelation of the woman's identity. Her own tongue seemed to have glued itself to the back of her teeth, and she couldn't speak for the life of her.

She turned to Valka next. "And yours is a face I know well," she said, as she came to stand before her, and Astrid was startled to see she did not rise as tall as Hiccup's mother, though her presence alone gave a different impression entirely.

Valka offered a careful greeting in return, which prompted a laugh from the fair-haired woman. "Such formality! And here I would consider us friends, after so many years."

Hiccup's mother didn't seem to know quite how to respond to that, and so Astrid stepped forward. "You're Freyja," she said, swallowing heavily, and tried not to feel intimidated; she'd sought her counsel more often than the Allfather's, and there was a sense of knowing there, as one might know a distant relative from rumour and hearsay.

The goddess – and how strange that was to admit, Astrid marvelled – smiled, and nodded her head. "I am."

"And you know where he is," Astrid continued, gaining confidence. "Hiccup. You know who took him. That's why you're here."

Another nod. "Yes."

"Who?" It was Valka who spoke, a hard note in her voice Astrid hadn't heard since the business with Drago.

"An old thorn in my side," Freyja answered, voice sharp but weary with long lingering annoyance, as she turned to face Hiccup's mother. "You know him as the Trickster. He's taken the boy to Jötunheimr." She pursed her lips. "His idea of a game, I guess you could say."

"Loki?" Stoick growled. "That bedamned whelp. I'll have him strung up by his braids from the Odin's cursed tree–"

"Jötunheimr?" Valka asked, voice a hush now, though her anger lurked behind her words, a quiet storm to her husband's fire.

"Isn't that...?" Gobber trailed off.

"The realm of giants," Freyja asserted. "It's no joking matter; there is tension enough between our kind and theirs to do without involving humans." She looked at Stoick next. "I cannot set foot there, but I can show you the way, if you will come."

The former chief didn't hesitate. "I'll go."

Chaos broke out over the crowd gathered – protests from one corner, and a rousing cry of support from another. Freyja smiled. "I thought as much."

"Not alone you won't," Astrid spoke up then, as she stepped forward. "I'm going, too."

"And I," Valka agreed.

"Val."

She rounded on her husband. "No, Stoick. I'll not sit here, idle like some–"

"I know," he said, cutting her off, and her brows drew together in a frown. "I told yeh – we're a team now." His hand fell heavy upon her shoulder with promise, and his grin was wide and defiant on his face, and Astrid was surprised to find so much of Hiccup in that look. "If we're stormin' the realm of giants, we're doin' it together."

A roar of approval met his words now, not just from one corner but several, and villagers flocked around to offer their good luck, and wishes for safe passage and a hasty return with their missing chief.

"Well, I guess we can't let you have all the fun," Snotlout said, Fishlegs and the twins at his heels as he came to stand next to Astrid. He flexed one arm, and offered a rather lewd wink. "If your name's going down in history, babe, I want mine next to it."

Ruffnut snorted. "On the list of casualties, maybe." She offered Astrid a quick grin. "I've gotta see that. Count me in."

"Count us both," Tuff added, with a glare in his sister's direction. "Stop trying to hog all the glory."

"I'm not hogging anything–"

"So, to Jötunheimr it is, then?" Gobber whistled over the sound of the bickering twins, scratching his moustache. "Yeh can put that on the list of things I never thought I'd say."

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him start, but the lady of the eternal field only offered a smile. "Berk's finest warriors will have little trouble. Know that I would not seek your aid lightly."

Gobber nodded, a little numbly. "So...how do we get there, exactly?" he asked, as the goddess made for the door, the eyes of all gathered in the hall following the fall of her bare feet with silent rapture.

She glanced over her shoulder, brow quirked. "We fly," she said simply, before she turned to disappear outside, the sunlight swallowing her in a halo, golden as her hair.

"Sweet," Snotlout agreed, as he made to follow. "I'll go saddle the old girl."

Astrid shook her head, but followed suit, and the rest fell in step behind her. She could hear Gobber questioning the wisdom of sending so many off at once, to which Stoick replied that he was more than welcome to stay behind.

"Ho no!" came the quick answer. "Yeh've already had one adventure across the realms without me. Don't think I'm lettin' yeh run off on yer own this time."

She thought she detected a wavering note in his voice, but didn't allow her mind to linger long. Her own worry crept up like an itch under her skin, and she quickened her pace to follow Freyja, who was waiting now in the village centre.

Toothless met her halfway, restless, but seeming to sense something in the works. She scratched behind his ear. "We'll find him, bud," she murmured, to which he responded with a crooning rumble low in his throat. "Will you be riding with us?" Astrid asked the goddess, standing a pace off and looking up at the sky. "I'll be flying Hiccup's dragon – you can ride on Stormfly, if you want." She gestured to her Nadder, eagerly buffing her wings as though sensing an impending flight.

Freyja smiled, and shielded her eyes against the sun's glare. "Oh, I have my own means," she said. "But I thank you for your consideration."

Astrid was about to ask what kind of means she was referring to, when the glare suddenly brightened, and she looked up, half expecting the sun to come plummeting down from its place in the sky, only to have her breath catch in her throat at the sight that greeted her instead.

A dragon descended towards them, appearing as if it was a manifestation of the air itself, and she had to shield her eyes against the glitter of bright, golden scales as it came to land next to Valfreyja. It was a small thing – not much bigger than Stormfly, but with shorter legs and a long, graceful tail. Up close it was hard to tell if her scales were gold, or if she was simply reflecting the sun, but it hurt the eyes looking directly at her and so Astrid had to focus on something nearby. Once her vision had cleared of bright spots, she noted the jutting scales lining the ridge of a curved back before circling its brow, below which sat a pair of clever eyes.

The dragon crooned, and nudged its head against Freyja's side – a fond greeting that was met with an affectionate rub. "Sólscale will show the way," Freyja announced, running a hand along the dragon's flank. Around her, the village had gone quiet. "You may follow her lead, but at a distance. Her scales are too warm to touch for mortal hands."

"Unidentified class," Fishlegs murmured raptly under his breath, eyes round with wonderment. "Level unspecified. Limit break? Possibly. Legendary type, doubtless."

There was a low whistle to Astrid's right. "That is one fine piece of tail," Snotlout seconded, but she wasn't about to ask whether he meant the goddess or the dragon.

Around them, the others were getting ready; Hiccup's parents had saddled their dragons, and the villagers had gathered around, giving them a wide berth – Freyja's dragon in particular. Astrid checked the buckles on Toothless' saddle; she hadn't had time to remove it after his last flight – she'd been too busy in her dash to find the Haddocks. She patted his back. "I'll give you a rubdown when we come home," she promised, and found it easier, somehow, to hold onto that than her own promise of bringing Hiccup home. It seemed within reach, anyhow – more so than fetching someone from another realm.

She looked towards the others. "Are we all set to–"

"What's going on here?"

The voice drew their collective attentions, and Astrid looked up to find Eret, just come back from a hunt going by the deer slung over his shoulder. Depositing the carcass on the ground, the former dragontrapper threw a wary look over the gathered villagers – a month in their company hadn't yet warmed him to Berk's antics, and it would take some time yet, by the suspicious frown on his face.

Astrid made a split-second decision, and smiled. Turning to her Nadder, who looked disgruntled now that she'd realized she wasn't going to get to come along, she called out, "Stormfly – fetch!"

The dragon crooned, and made a dash for the warrior, who nearly tripped over his own feet at the sudden onslaught. Astrid turned back to the others and their guide, waiting some ways off with her own dragon. "That makes all of us," she said.

Freyja nodded, and with a curious glance at the latest addition to the party, turned to mount her dragon. The others followed suit, the twins still bickering, and Gobber offering vocal lamentations about Grump's eagerness – "Oho, I promise you won't look near so happy when we get there, yeh glorified set o' bellows. And stop yer droolin'!" At the far end of the group, Astrid caught a wordless exchange between the Haddocks as Stoick mounted Skullcrusher. There was tension there, and an old dwelling sadness in moss-green eyes that were so similar to Hiccup's she had a hard time drawing her eyes away, though it was an obviously private moment. She caught a small hand lingering against a fur-wrapped forearm, and a whiskered smile that didn't seem quite as confident as it should.

And she wondered, suddenly, if Valka was saying goodbye.

Her heart hurt in her chest – Hiccup had been gone less than half a day, and was most likely still alive. She couldn't even imagine the possibility that he wouldn't be coming back, let alone the actual reality of it – that they'd reach Jötunheimr to find it was too late. It seemed absurd, somehow, that someone like him could perish like that – alive one second and gone the next.

But Astrid had vivid memories of loosening a burning arrow into the cold winter mist, her fingers numb against the softly yielding wood of a bow crafted for that very purpose. It wasn't absurd; it was everything but, and the knowledge sat like tension in Valka's rigid shoulders, Astrid could see that even at a distance. And if Stoick didn't make it back this time, for whatever reason...

The thought made her feel sick, and she drew her gaze away as Valka lifted herself atop her own dragon. And with a last precautionary tug at the buckles, Astrid jumped into Toothless' saddle. It was always a little different than riding Stormfly, but she'd taken him for rides enough times in the past month to be more than a little familiar, and it didn't take her long to find her feet snug in the stirrups, and for her body to know exactly how much weight it took to adjust the tail-prosthetic just so.

The Night Fury was restless beneath her, but waited until he was sure she was comfortable in the saddle before he took off, and she drew her hood over her head to guard against the biting wind. She could spot Freyja's dragon up ahead, like a small sun in the far distance. "Okay, bud. Let's go find our lost chief, hmm?"

Stormfly pulled up to her side, and Eret shouted up at her, "Astrid, blast it, what in Hel's name are you doing?"

She glanced down to where he clung to Stormfly's saddle, having managed to extract himself from her claws to climb his way up her side. "We're going on a trip!" she announced cheerily, though she was feeling nothing like it. But it made her feel a little better, and the pressure in her chest lessened some.

"I didn't say I wanted to come along!"

"Too bad, you're coming anyway!" She glanced down again. "Stormfly, good girl – take good care of him, now. It's about to get a little dangerous."

Eret balked. "Danger–now wait just a minute–"

Snotlout flexed his muscles as Hookfang drew close. "Taking on the realm of giants, man. That's some pretty big shit. Y'know, because they're giants."

Eret looked, uncomprehending, at Snotlout. "Realm of–what?"

"Ugh. Bless your gorgeous, empty head," Ruffnut sighed from the saddle on the other side. Tuff rolled his eyes.

"I vote we use him as bait if we need to make a quick escape."

"No one is using anyone as bait," Astrid called over her shoulder. "We're going back with one more, and no less!" Her hands clenched against the saddle's pommel, to keep them from shaking. She didn't risk a glance towards the former chief. No less than everyone.

"You think he's alright?" Ruffnut asked seriously, having drawn her approving eyes away from Eret as the two-headed dragon flew up close to Toothless and Stormfly.

Astrid expelled the breath she'd kept in her breast, heavy like a stone. "He needs to be," she said simply, keeping her eyes on the horizon in the distance. Toothless was looking straight ahead, but his ears were pressed flat against his skull. She spotted Cloudjumper at her far right, and Skullcrusher on her opposite side; neither of Hiccup's parents spoke, and even Gobber seemed to keep his thoughts to himself now.

She ran her hand along the side of Toothless' neck, just below the chin. The dragon glanced up at her, and she pressed her mouth to a determined line. "We need him to be alright."

"Well this takes the prize for worst day ever."

Muttering under his breath, Hiccup slunk low along the ridge of a small outcropping of rocks, trying to remain hidden from whatever lurked in the trees ahead. He hadn't the faintest idea where he was, but he didn't have to be a genius to figure there was something dangerous lying in wait between the jutting rocks and the eerily silent greenery. The cold sun had sunk low, but he hadn't spotted a single animal – not even the twitch of a mouse or the cry of a bird. And he'd scouted for wild dragons long enough to know a bad sign when he saw one.

Not to mention, Loki wouldn't have gone through the effort of taking him halfway across the world just to dump him somewhere perfectly safe.

He thought back to his parting words–

"You can't just drop me here and leave!"

The god glanced down from the dragon's back, thin smile stretched wide across his face. "It's nothing personal."

Hiccup balked. "It's feeling pretty personal to me!"

Loki shrugged. "Have fun! I might be rooting for you, I might not." He patted Halfwyrm's neck. "Let's see how it goes first, shall we?"

"Loki! Hey, get back here–!" But his call was promptly ignored, and without further delay both dragon and god wrapped themselves in shadows and were gone.

Hiccup ran a hand through his hair. "Why me?"

There was a rustle in the bushes behind him, and he whirled, hands grabbing for a sword he couldn't find, and there was a curse at the tip of his tongue as his fingers moved to grapple along the ground for – anything, really. A rock to throw, or a stick. Not going to do much against anything bigger than a rabbit.

Another rustle – a branch this time, and he felt his hopes plummet as his fingers closed over a small stone the size of a plum. He felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh. Oh, man. Please just let that be an enormous rabbit. A big, soft, fluffy–

But the shape that came hurtling out of the bushes wasn't a rabbit at all, but a person – a woman, he realized on closer inspection as she drew to a sudden stop in front of him. Sturdy of build and clad in modest armour, she rose a full head taller than him; she wore a plain helmet over her head, and her hair was wound in a tight braid, a golden tail whipping against her back.

Hiccup gaped, hand still raised to attack with his rock. "Uh."

She reached up to remove her helmet, revealing plump cheeks flushed from her run, and the golden strands of her forelock curling with moisture. She had a strong nose, and sharp-but-kind features, brows arching high and elegant above eyes dark as the soil underfoot. In a way, she brought him in mind of his own lady, though she wasn't nearly so young. Or was she?

And he knew her then for what she was, by his inability to determine her age. He held back a groan. Why. Me.

She glanced around. "If you're trying to hide, you're not doing a very good job," she pointed out, almost cheerily, as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

"Nice to meet you, too," he deadpanned, but breathed a little easier now that the immediate danger had been averted. He took in her garb – not a warrior's dress, though she wore a small shield strapped to her back and a short sword at her hip. But like her elegant brows so at odds with her strong facial features, there were tiny blue flowers stitched into the leather of her jerkin, and she carried her shield with a woven cord of wheat nearly as thick as her braid.

"So, which one are you?" he asked, as he searched his mind for names long since heard and forgotten. "Did Loki send you to help 'liven things up'?"

At the mention of the name, her smiling features hardened, her lovely brows drawing together like the clash of swords, and she was a storm brewing, thunder in her veins and in her earth-dark eyes. "Do not mistake me for a friend of that fiend," she snapped, and he was momentarily taken aback by her sudden anger.

"Ookay," he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace as he took a tentative step back. "No friend, then." He looked her over. "He didn't dump you here, too, did he?"

She snorted at that, but her anger seemed to lessen a fraction. "I'd like to see him try," she retorted. "No, I came here of my own volition. I am Sif," she said, with a bow of her head. "I'm here to aid in your escape."

"Sif?" He searched his mind. He'd heard the name before, but in passing. Or so he thought. He could be mistaken.

"Harvest daughter," she continued, a little wryly, seeing his obvious struggle. "Wife of Thor?"

"Oh." Hiccup tried a sheepish smile – the one that always got him out of trouble with the women in his life. "Yeah, okay." Wife of Thor? "Uh, I don't mean to be rude – I mean, I appreciate your...help, but...why?"

A clever smile lingered at the corner of her mouth. "I'm no friend of Loki Laufeyson, but your patron lady I hold in high regard," she explained, as though that actually explained anything at all. "And I've a bone to pick with the Trickster, for a cruel trick gone long unpaid."

"Loki tricked you?" He tried to remember the stories he'd heard of the trickster god and the trouble he'd caused, but drew a blank. There was something about thievery – the mothers of Berk would always invoke the name when their children were caught pilfering loaves of fresh bread from kitchen windows and grog from their parents' table. He also wanted to ask what she meant by 'patron lady'. Loki had mentioned something of the like, before he'd had Hiccup shipped gods only knew where on a dragon who defied common sense. He'd never travelled this far out on any of his trips with Toothless.

Sif smiled. "I would not expect you to know the tale," she said. "But–"

She wasn't given the chance to finish, cut off by a sudden rumble that had the ground heaving beneath their feet. "Whoa!" He wavered, but managed a perilous balance. When he looked back up Sif had her eyes on something behind him, brows pulled together in wary vigilance. Then another rumble followed at the heels of the first, along with a rustling in the thick copse of trees some ways off. Hiccup blanched. That is definitely not a rabbit.

"That would be our cue to leave!" he heard her announce, but before he could gather his wits, she'd driven her shoulder into his midsection, knocking the air clean from his lungs as she hoisted him up, before she took off running back the way she'd come.

"Hey! What–"

"You've one good leg at your disposal," she shouted up at him. "This is quicker. And trust me when I say we need a good head start!"

He didn't get another chance to protest, for not a moment after the words had left her lips, an enormous shape towering tall as a pine and wide as a small mountain came barrelling out of the treeline, and Hiccup had to keep from calling out in alarm.

"What is that?!"

"That would be a giant," she explained, almost jovially, and he nearly choked on his tongue.

"Giant? Wait a minute – there are giants?!"

She laughed, a breathless sound nearly lost on the wind. "This is Jötunheimr, little viking – it's all there is!"

"Jötun– are you kidding me? That's where he left me?!"

He got no reply, but was further occupied by keeping himself in place as she made a sharp turn, before dashing off into a sprint that would have given him a run for his money five years ago when he'd had two good legs at his disposal and been one of the fastest in Berk. Of the giant he caught only brief glimpses over her shoulder, though keeping his eyes open was making him nauseated and so he pressed them shut. He doubted she'd appreciate him emptying his breakfast down her back.

He lost track of how far and how long they ran, but the rumblings became distant, until he couldn't make them out at all, and at last she drew to a stop, halting below the shade of a large rock jutting out of a hill. With the trees growing around it, it provided better cover than he'd found for himself earlier, but she prowled around it, restlessness lingering in her every move.

"So," Hiccup wheezed, as she finally came to a stop. His vision spun, and he felt an odd surge in his stomach. Not even barrel rolls with Toothless left him this queasy. He managed a slightly hysteric laugh. "What was the trick? The one he pulled on you?" It had to be pretty big, to have her come all the way to Jötunheimr to help a human, and risk her life carrying him around like a sack of grain.

She looked up to where he dangled over her shoulders, sweat clinging to her brow like pearls, though she was no shorter of breath than if she'd have made the run without his added weight. "He cut off my hair, once," she said breezily. "As a jest."

"Your hair?" he choked, disbelieving. "You doing this because he cut off your hair?" He shook his head. "Should I even be surprised at this point?"

Sif offered him a bemused smile, as though she couldn't find a simpler issue than the one at their feet. Then she shrugged, and the action drove her shoulder into his stomach, and consequently the air from his lungs. "Gods get bored," she said with a laugh, and Hiccup had to hold on for dear life as she took off again into the underbush. "Come on – we've got miles to go yet before we reach the river, and it's not safe out in the open once night falls."

Hiccup didn't offer a worded reply, only a drawn-out groan as the world jumped and tilted around him, and the jarring motion of her movements beckoned invitingly at the contents of his stomach.

He'd never once missed flying quite so much.

AN: Sif is described as being fair and lovely, but I've always imagined her as a bit stouter than some illustrations make her out as. She's the wife of Thor, and I like to picture her as not just the lady of the house, but as a woman who can pack a punch. In a way, a little bit like Astrid.

Freyja's dragon: Sólscale is named such for her scales, which make her glow like a small sun. In norse mythology, Sól (or Sunna in some sources), is the sun personified.

Sif: Goddess of the harvest and the earth and wife of Thor.

Ífingr: the river that separates Jötunheimr and Asgard.