Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, favorite, follow and review this fic collection! You're all so encouraging. I know this is a short one-it's been a busy week so I haven't had a chance to work on my longer ideas-but expect the next addition very soon!

And, for those curious... Oh yes, the "angry skrill" story will definitely be making an appearance at some point. :3

Length (this chapter): 400 words
Characters (this chapter): Gobber, Stoick

Summary (this chapter): To the end of his days Gobber would never forget the look on Stoick's face after the Red Death finally fell to earth…

To the end of his days Gobber would never forget the look on Stoick's face after the Red Death finally fell to earth, shaking it like a hammer-strike, and everything went silent.

Their eyes met, just for a moment, as they staggered to their feet amid the dust and smoke and ash. They both paused, straining to hear the sound of a Night Fury sweeping overhead, or Hiccup's voice, full of exhilarated pride, shouting at them to see what he'd done.

Nothing.

Stoick's face crumbled, gray with the same horrible fear and grief that was crushing the air from Gobber's lungs, and he could do nothing but stare back. It was an impossible thought: that Hiccup—tiny, stubborn, brilliant Hiccup, his best friend's son, who Gobber had always expected to like but never expected to love—might be gone.

That a boy who could shoot down and tame and ride a Night Fury like that—

A boy who could lead a group of teenagers, who just weeks ago had ignored his very presence except to laugh at it, into an aerial battle against a monster the likes of which none of them had ever seen—

Who could win such a battle with little more than his wits and the loyalty of a dragon—

It was impossible. Hiccup is not dead.

Gobber steeled himself, holding onto that thought with all the desperate strength of a drowning man, and grasped Stoick's arm. Stoick blinked at him, looking as if he'd taken a blow to the head. Gobber tightened his grip.

"He's not dead."

His voice was steady, his eyes dry. He convinced even himself, despite the fear that gnawed at the edge of his heart. Hiccup was not dead. Could not be dead. Stoick would not be able to bear it—and neither would he.

The words seemed to shock Stoick into movement. He jerked, almost staggering, but then pulled himself upright. His eyes were suddenly clear and sharp, and his face set into the determined scowl Gobber knew well. He gave a short, sharp nod.

Then he took off at a run, disappearing into the thick cloud of ash. Gobber followed at once, refusing to let Stoick search alone. He would be right behind, there to rejoice with him… or to mourn with him.

Hiccup is not dead.

He prayed to every god he could think of that he was right.