Each step felt terribly light and easy. She felt dulled, like the stone wasn't as cold as it should be, like the fire wasn't as hot as it should be, like the weight of the event, of her ascendance to the Chiefdom, wasn't as heavy or momentous as it should have felt.

It felt like she was missing something.

Stepping up where Snotlout had stood moments before was like cutting butter with a freshly-forged sword – so much easier than it should have been. She turned to face the Voice of the Elder, feeling awkward and unbalanced on the high platform rather than great or grand.

Astrid forced herself to breath evenly. Why did this feel so wrongly underwhelming?

"Astrid Hofferson," Hiccup started. She kept herself rigid under his uncomfortable gaze. It was sharp, and a beautiful green that reflected the firelight like an entrancing gem…Shit! It was just like the funeral all over again!

"How do you respond?"

Closing her eyes, she took a moment to refocus. It was hard to swallow, but the words came out just like always. "I promise to make sure everyone is safe, everyone is strong, and everyone is provided for. I will protect this village from the harsh winters that threaten to starve us. I will lead against any tribes who dare to attack us! I will fight against the beasts trying to destroy us!"

She meant those words, and tried to summon the kind of tingly, epic mood of standing out on the cold dock, swearing them to Chief Stoick the Vast. She put as much feeling as she could in those sealing vows.

"On my honor, I will defend our island from any who would harm it! Berk will never fall before I do. This I swear before the Gods, the Elder, the Council, and all assembled here this day. I, Astrid Hofferson, step up as Chief of Berk!"

But the words still rang hollow to her even as the Hall rang with cheers of approval, lost to memory far earlier than they should have been. Had she really said them, really sworn her life to the chiefdom? It didn't feel like it.

Frustration bubbled inside her as she tried to figure out what was missing. Her gaze swept over the warm Hall, the cheering crowd, the attentive Council, her proud parents. The room was warm and alive, the atmosphere perfect.

She smiled at everyone even as she frowned inside.

"Elder, do you accept these vows?"

The Elder frowned thoughtfully.

Then she stared at the floor.

She…Astrid's smile dropped as seconds stretched into a whole minute. She was hesitating!

Two minutes.

Then three.

And finally, Astrid felt something as the Elder actually hesitated to accept her, something that made her fists clench.

It was inadequacy.

A niggling little voice whispered that maybe she really wasn't right for the job – how could a Chief feel so detached during their ceremony? Why would the Elder have second thoughts like this?!

What was wrong with her!

So caught up in the maelstrom of whats, Astrid just about leapt out of her skin when the crowd cheered.

She glanced back up. The Elder must have accepted her (she missed it, how did she miss it?! what sort of chief did that?!) because she was shuffling forward, past her Voice. Her ungainly staff suddenly struck the ground the wrong way and Hiccup jumped, mouth opening in a soundless 'Ow' when the butt of the staff landed squarely on his foot. Astrid may have imagined the glare the Elder shot his way.

…She probably did.

She didn't care one whit. She and the Hall waited with bated breath until the Elder stood right before Astrid and then gestured to the wood in front of her.

Still feeling too light, too numb, too disconnected, Astrid stepped down and kneeled, respectfully lowering her gaze as the Elder rubbed her charcoal fingers together and drew the mark of the Chief on her forehead.

When she rose, Hiccup the Voice of the Elder was standing by the table at the side. The Chief's possessions were arranged on it.

Stoick had told her all about his ceremony – the immense pride he'd felt when his father had wrapped the belt around his waist.

Hiccup – the Voice of the Elder – held up that very same belt now. It looked more like a gigantic, unwieldy scrap than the belt that had encircled Stoick's waist in his slender hands.

And instead of feeling pride, Astrid stiffened when he moved forward to wrap it around her hips, hyperconscious of how close he was. He was taller than her, his hair dangling right in front of her nose as he looked down. Even bound, she felt uncomfortably exposed and held herself perfectly still, her knee itching to knock him in the groin. And his hands were right there (right there! A hair's breadth away!) from her hips as he looped the belt through the ornate buckle.

Then she felt mortification.

It was way to big.

Hiccup didn't so much as brush her as he tilted the belt, resting one side high on her hip and letting the other swing downwards, like a sash. The fish on the buckle looked like it was taking a nosedive.

"We trust you to make Berk prosper under your rule," he dictated.

He was painfully proper as he picked up the next item. It was ancient. And it was so heavy he had to use his arms to carry it to her, gait wobbly.

It was the axe of Stoick's great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Skorchbeard the Brawny. One of the first chiefs of Berk. Stoick had called it inspiring.

She took the axe from him with one hand. It was unusually heavy, the handle thick and the head clunky. Very…primitive. Her mind's eye instantly conjured up the graceful curve of her own blade, the worn but sturdy handle, and the perfect balance. The ancient axe's head felt ready to attack the floor on its own.

It was…disappointing.

"We trust you to defend us with everything you have, to fight with us and for us with your fists and your words."

The final item was even harder for Hiccup to carry – he had to gather it up in his arms and all she could see of his head was a tuft of hair poking out above the fur.

Stoick's cloak had been made of bear fur. The pelt of a great, enormous brown bear, one of the last beasts on the island. It had been a salute to his fantastic strength and courage, and his commitment to his village. There were no more bears now.

The village had decided to make her cloak of wolf pelts, several all sewn together with silvery grays and whites overlapping and complimenting each other. And at last, Astrid felt something right. Sleek, elegant, but tough and ferocious. Suddenly this was her ceremony.

She held her breath as Hiccup hung the cloak off her shoulders, pinning them to her shirt with two enormous buckles showing the Hofferson crest.

"We trust you with the responsibility of the village."

The hall roared.

"And," Hiccup continued, shouting to be heard over the suddenly hushed crowd, "we trust you to watch over us."

Astrid's heart skipped a beat even as her expression remained impassive. Surprised murmurings from the older Vikings echoed around the Hall as Hiccup picked up what was clearly a key – a very specific, a very familiar key that she clearly remembered as Stoick's key – and handed it to her.

Astrid accepted the cold key to the Haddock house, the house on the hill from which the Chie saw all, wordlessly.

Then the Voice of the Elder turned her around to face the entire assembly, belt slung over her skirt, cloak cascading down her back, ax in one hand and a key clutched tightly in the other.

"Berk, long live your Chief!"

While the rest of the village stayed warm and cheery in the Great Hall, getting down to the real business of out-drinking and yelling at each other in high spirits, Astrid followed the Elder out into the dark night. Thick clouds prevented all but the odd star from shining and after the bright fire and invigorating warmth of the Great Hall, the outdoors felt like a cold leech. Even with her wonderful new furred cape at her back, it still felt like the warmth was being sucked out of her, dissipating to nothing in the endless cold air.

The only light was from the small torch the Elder held as she led the new chief down – or up, Astrid noticed – a path that seemed to always turn right. The path was solid rock and with a jolt Astrid realized it wrapped all the way around Raven's Point, the peak the Great Hall was hollowed from. It was the same stone path she had run up and down on as a child, playing Seige. The 'Vikings' were confined to the path, their 'fortress', while the 'dragons' were free to roam. It was a game that strongly favored the dragons from a military viewpoint, but she remembered she had always insisted on being a Viking.

Still, she had never run all the way up the path, never even considered it. She didn't think any of them had. Now, as the village lights came into view yet again, and the Elder steadily headed up the path still, not even pausing as the smooth stone wore away to weathered rocks and grass and a small trail, Astrid saw that it wound around the Hall too many times to count.

And it led to the very tip of the mountain where the Elder's…hut sat. Perched, Astrid corrected. It was not what she had expected at all. The Elder commanded respect and was a highly valued member of the tribe but her home was smaller and even shoddier than the hovels where the less-than-privileged villagers lived. It looked to be haphazardly constructed with wood sticks propping it up in a completely random fashion. She swallowed a lump in her throat when she saw that half of the house was literally hanging off the peak.

And Astrid felt less than comfortable standing on the wooden platform in front of it. Great Odin, she could see the lights from the torch playing on the rocks under the boards.

The wind howled in sudden gusts, scraping her face and sending her cape fluttering behind her and Astrid felt even more nervous, feeling like she could be sent tumbling off and down to the stone entrance of the Great Hall at any moment.

But miraculously, even though she could feel the nailed boards vibrating unnervingly beneath her steps, the platform held. The Elder finally found the key to her house after fumbling around in the bird's nest that was the top of her staff, jamming it into the door and shuffling in. Astrid followed close behind.

And immediately banged her head.

"What the-"

It was even smaller on the inside than on the outside, Astrid swore. Gourds, roots, bones, and…other things – Astrid gave the strange-looking assortments an equally strange look – hung from the ceiling in dense clumps, eliminating any sort of head room. They were so low the Elder's helmet was practically brushing them.

A huge loom stood by one wall of the hut and the woolen fibers on the unfinished blanket shone a deep red and various shades of black and green in the dim lighting. She squinted at the piles, literally piles, of blankets that littered the floor, trying to estimate how many there were.

Of course with her attention focused on the impressive amount of blankets, she banged her head again.

"Ouch!" she hissed.

A noncommittal hum made her turn back to face the Elder as she used the torch to light the small fireplace. Astrid obeyed the 'sit' gesture the Elder waved at her, keeping her back to the door, as the Elder easily reached up and began harvesting from her odd collection of ceiling ornaments. Most of the ones she plucked were bones. A couple were webbed goose feet. A number were dragon horns.

Finally, the old woman settled into a cross-legged position with her back to the far wall and proceeded to ignore the new Chief, murmuring as she began mixing the ingredients together, dropping the bones in one by one.

The young Chief settled down on her knees. The atmosphere in the hut had become archaic, and Astrid's anticipation rose as her skin crawled. Each breath was a conscious effort as she became paid attention to each of the slightest smells, the smallest changes in color from the small fire in front of her. The air itself felt heavy, and the flickering light cast by the fire looked unusually vibrant. It was unearthly – and momentous, like her ceremony had been. (At the end.)

But here, as the Elder continued to murmur in a tone so low she couldn't catch the words, she could finally feel it.

The Elder was still unphased as she casually tossed the bowl up and upended its contents, letting the various bones and things tumble out in front of them. Astrid jerked at the sharp motion, the weight of the moment ebbing as the Elder stood up and began to observe the bones, tilting her head this way and that.

Finally, with a voice Astrid had never heard before that held a low and profound tone that crackled with age, or maybe that was misuse, the Elder began to speak.

"Something big is going to happen during your time," she began at last, eyes narrowed and head tilted as though she were reading something from the side. "Something very, very big."

Astrid reviewed every single possible scenario in her head, responses lining up in her mind like soldiers in a battle. "What? A devastating winter? A food shortage? We haven't had a firestorm as fierce as Frenir in two decades-"

"You are thinking too small," the Elder interrupted, soft voice sounding ancient and slow next to Astrid's energetic planning.

The new chief sucked on her lower lip in thought. "A war? We haven't fought with the other tribes in a century. If the Outcasts cause trouble like last time, we'll have to-"

"No," the Elder cut in again, voice sharper this time.

"Well what is it?" Astrid demanded. "Tell me so that I can plan for it! Tell me so I can do something about it, at least prepare for it!"

The Elder hunched over, pointing at a particular bone in the scattered pile. She locked gazes with the young Chief, misty hazel eyes holding sharp blue ones. "You cannot prepare for this. This is outside of your control."

Astrid's hands clenched. "If I know what it is, I can make sure we'll survive through it."

"But we don't know what it is. This is not a change in the way the wind blows or the migration patterns of the fish. This is a very intricate Event, the sum of a vast number of consequences of the many choices made by a great number of people. Including yourself."

"So I have some control over it."

The Elder evaluated her thoughtfully for a second. "Limited. Do not overestimate your influence," she cautioned. "You want to keep Berk safe. You want to end the war. In your time, both of these goals may be realized. But whether or not you succeed…" The Elder trailed off, giving her that same critical look she'd seen during the Hesitation. "You will fail if you make the wrong choices."

Astrid sat up on her heels, back straight. "And if I make the right ones?"

"You may succeed."

"What?! May!" Astrid scowled. "Now wait a minute, if I-"

"The sum of a vast number of consequences from a vast number of choices made by a great number of people," the Elder reminded her.

"Fine. But then I can-"

"NO." The butt of the Elder's staff slammed into the ground – hard enough that Astrid jumped back to attention. The Elder was shooting her a hard look. "'I' is a very small word, Astrid Hofferson. You are only one person and you only have two hands. And, you may be Chief, but Berk is a very small place. There is a whole world out there that doesn't follow your rules, much less your orders. And finally, quite frankly, you are not the centerpiece of this Event. Like I said, you have the power to turn this Event into a complete disaster, just like anyone else. One missing sailor can doom an entire ship, one errant shepherd can cost the whole flock. One chief can wipe Berk off the face of the island with her actions! But you are not the one person who can turn this Event into a success all by yourself.

"You must remember that," the Elder emphasized, standing up and banging her staff again, "and act like you remember it, or else you will become your biggest antagonist."

Astrid stared, the cold seeping back in as she slowly rose. Goosebumps rose on her arms despite the almost uncomfortable heat from the fire.

The Elder nodded respectfully to her.

"Have a nice night, lass."

Labor Day was aptly named. Anyhow, thanks for reading and see you next week!

Especially thanks to the glorious reviewers:

thedeathwidow - Thanks a ton! The grey color of the characters is very important to me (at least of the main characters) and it's grear to hear someone appreciates it.

Dan - Peanut butter and spiders? That made me laugh :) First off, thank you thank you thank you for keeping it civil and well-stated. Second, wow, that's some hardcore dedication! Third, I agree on hating forced separation but I hate it when people force Hiccstrip or Ruffcup together too fast. This story is a lot about evolving relationships (which is why HTTYD is so beautiful as a movie) and we'll see where they all lead. I admit in the movie, I think the flip in Astrid's attitude wasn't well portrayed. Granted they only have so much time, buuuut...well it's an interesting character study many fanfic writers have explored. Perhaps I will join them ;) after this story of course.

Stripesicles222 - Let's say Snotlout gained a little hiccup experience on a camping trip with his dad ;) If it fits in the story, we might hear about it. I'm trying to make it fit. And yeah, Astrid has treated her peers like thorns for so long she just doesn't give him any attention at the moment. She's an independent woman! I can't wait for her character to develop here! Hehe. Poor girl.