The World Through a Window

"Grandpa, I want to go watch the dragon training."

Grandpa looked up at me from the axe he had been looking over on the other side of the room. He smiled gently, blue eyes softening from the concentration they had housed moments before.

I put my embroidery aside on the windowsill next to my bed, and let him lift me out of bed and onto his shoulders. Despite his old age, grandpa is as big as any other Viking in the village, and just as strong. More so, he has a heart of gold and is neighbourly to everyone. When he wasn't taking care of me, he would be outside, playing with the village children. He'd been able to do that more often now a days, since I'd forced myself to become more self-sufficient, or, at least, less demanding. Although I still couldn't travel very far on my own. Even then, not without my cane.

When I was five years old, I had run outside during one of the many dragon attacks on Berk, my home having been set a flame. My parents and Grandpa were out fighting with the other adult Vikings. I was scared, confused and lost from stumbling around the blazing village. It wasn't long before a dragon found me, thinking I was easy prey, and attacked. I struggled against the beast, kicking and shrieking, only to get my legs caught between the monstrosity's gnashing teeth. I was so scared that I couldn't think, couldn't identify the type of dragon I was being attacked by, if anyone was around to save me. All I could tell was that it had my legs in its mouth, but it hadn't torn them off, and all I could do was scream.

All I remember beyond that was pain, so much of it I vomited, and blacked out. When I finally came to a week later, the healer told me I was lucky, only my legs having been damaged; but I may never walk again. I couldn't bare to look at my legs, which were still bleeding in some places, and stitched up everywhere. They took forever to heal properly, and then they took even longer to scar. But I understood why they believed I'd never walk again, and I believed it myself.

Grandpa thoughtfully grabbed my cane before leaving the house, handing it to me. I held it tightly as we crossed the town. The cane was a gift from my father, which he gave me on my eleventh birthday. He came into my room and sat down at the foot of my bed, placing the carefully and intricately carved walking stick on my lap. I looked at it questioningly, but he motioned for me to give it a try. It had been years since I had walked, my legs having lost most, if not all their muscle. But my father insisted I at least attempted to walk, even just a few steps.

I fell after a moment of being on my feet, only taking a single step forward. Father had to catch me, pulling me back up to my feet.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, patting my hair, "You'll get it soon enough."

It wasn't soon like father had said, but I did get the hang of walking eventually. By the time I was twelve, I was able to make my way through my house, with little to no trouble. On particularly good days (a good day being any day my legs felt strong enough to carry me so far), I could even make it outside. But I tired quickly, and could never seem to go farther then the path outside my house. My parents and Grandpa still had to carry me around.

Today, I planned to do a full round of the outside of the arena. I figured it to be a tad farther than the distance I usually travelled around my home. I wanted to see if I could make it, but I also wanted to see what happened in the training. I was curious; had I not been attacked eleven years ago, I would be in for my first day of training along with the other Vikings my age. And I wanted to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

We arrived at the arena just as the lesson was beginning. Hiccup, the chief's son had just stumbled in, to which everyone reacted in shock, asking "why is he here?" I had to rake my mind to remember why they would respond to the boy's presence like that, before recalling the events of a day or so before; one of Hiccup's contraptions had been unleashed during a dragon raid, leading to a whole strand of troubles, which the rest of the villagers had to compensate for. I heard the whole story from my mother, who had watched as the gigantic torch that had been indirectly knocked down by Hiccup destroyed part of the bridge leading down to the docks, as well as a few houses afterwards.

Looking around, there were very few spectators at the arena. Most of the adults were off on yet another quest to find the dragons' nest, or just not interested. The village elder was there to watch, although that was most likely only because it was necessary for her being there, as she would decide who would receive the honour of killing their first dragon after they proved themselves through training. Grandpa set me down before wandering off a bit, looking for a good place to watch from. I began my walk around the circular arena.

About halfway around, I could have sworn he saw me, so I raised my hand in a meek sort of wave. When he didn't respond, I let my hand drop, a bit embarrassed, but continued walking.

The first time we met was when we were nine. I spent most of the time with my window open, shutters flung out and the breeze dancing silently into my room, while I sat working away at embroidery, or a book, or some other project to pass the time I spent alone.

I wonder how he saw me then, a small girl with a tangled braid of thick black hair, pale skin that rarely saw the sun, a small smattering of freckles splashed across my face. I was always small and frail from never doing anything, especially then since my father had not yet given me my walking stick and we still believed I couldn't walk.

As I had been pouring over whatever project I had been working at then (I can't for the life of me recall what it was now), he had come up to my windowsill, without my noticing, and asked in a rather loud tone, "Who are you?"

I jumped, barely suppressing a small squeak. I turned to him slack jawed, unsure of what to say. His eyes narrowed sceptically.

"Well? You do have a name, don't you?"

I closed my mouth, and looking down at my hands, murmured, "my name's Darby…"

He leaned over the sill. "What?"

I leaned away from the intrusive boy, and repeated a little louder, "Darby!"

He didn't return to 'his' side of the window, but gave smirk and said, "I'm Tuffnut. I've never seen you around, girly."

Self-consciously, I pulled my bed covers over my legs, which was a bad idea, since it only drew Tuffnut's attention to them. "Hey, what's wrong with your legs?"

Had he not been nine, he probably would have realised how inappropriate his next move was, as he pulled the sheets away faster than I could stop him. I pulled my legs up to my chest, trying to hide the scars that covered near all of my legs. But it was too late, as he had already seen the angry white lines that marked my skin, his eyes wide with shock.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't..."

With a small sigh, I grabbed my sheets back, pulling them around me again. I was too embarassed to tell him that it wasn't his fault I was broken, not his fault that I could be bedridden for the rest of my life. I forced back hot tears and said, "Whatever."

He stood at my window awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat. "Uh, well... How did that happen?" he looked at my face to see my reaction, but I stared at him blankly.

"I mean, like, you have to have gone through some crazy battle! Did you kill someone? With your bare hands?" He scrambled up onto the window sill, sitting crosslegged as is about to hear some great tale of my bravery, a huge grin on his face.

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but all that came out was a laugh. His grin faded as I kept laughing, having to cover my mouth to stop. He thought I had been in a battle? I shook my head slowly, smiling slightly.

"No, I didn't get these scars in a battle... See, when I was little..."

After that day, Tuffnut would come and visit me every now and then. He often left shortly, because there wasn't much for us to talk about, having little in common; I knowing very little about things beyond my bedroom, him having the entire island to explore and enjoy. He would tell me stories about what had happened in the villiage, as well as stories about fights he got in with a twin sister I never met, as well as tales about other vikings our age, who I'd never heard of either. I didn't say much when he came by, but I did enjoy having the company that wasn't blood related to me from time to time.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by a crash in the arena. Looking across the bowl, I saw the cheif's son trapped against the wall by a Gronkle, which was preparing to roast the skinny boy alive, only to be hooked by the lip and force-aimed above the boy's by Gobber, the training instructor. Hiccup scrambled away as Gobber dragged the brutish dragon back into its cage, barring the heavy steel doors shut, before returning to face Hiccup, saying, "remember; a dragon will always, always, go in for the kill."

He pulled Hiccup back onto his feet, leaving the boy to brush himself off. "Class dissmissed." the man announced, heading back through the gates. After a few sniggers and snide remarks were passed around the group at Hiccup's expense, the younger vikings followed, the cheif's son a few steps behind the rest, seeming lost in thought.

I pursed my lips, looking around the arena for my grandfather, before seeing him across the arena. I started to walk back to him before someone tapped me on the shoulder, making me jump, and nearly falling over.

"Whoa, whoa. Don't fall over. It's just me."

Tuffnut grabbed my arm, forcing me to study myself, before giving me a short, "hey."

"Hey." I said in reply, not really sure what to say.

"What are you doing here? Did you walk here yourself?" he asked, letting my arm go, and backing off a step.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Definately not. Grandpa carried me. Y'know." I stuttered, pointing over my shoulder to my grandfather, who appeared to be watching me. Great. "I.. I just came to watch the, uh, the training."

"Oh. Cool."

"Uh-huh. Well, I have to go," I said, reshifting my weight, flinching a tad.

"Oh, yeah... hey, I could carry you home." He said quickly. He gave a smile, and said, "I mean, I'm super tough, right? You saw me in the ring there."

I nodded, mustering a smile. In actuality, I had seen him and the girl I supposed to be his twin sister get blasted at while they were fighting over sheilds, although I didn't mention that. "Really, though, that's okay. Grandpa's waiting."

He turned a slight pink, but turned away so quickly I barely noticed. "Right, right... Well, I'll see you around. And... Yeah, around."

"Yeah."

He started to walk off, before turning back. "You coming to watch tomorrow?"

I looked at my feet, not really sure if I would. "Uh, probably." I said, which was most likely a bad idea, as Tuffnut took this for a 'yes'.

"Awesome, see you tomorrow, then!" he grinned, before running off to meet up with his sister, who greeted him with a hard shove.

I sighed, and returned to Grandpa, who gave me a questioning look. I frowned stubbornly in return.

"Just a friend Grandpa." I grumbled as he lifted me onto his shoulders again. "Just a friend."

AN: This is probably more of a personal writing excercise for me, in the limitation of a character veiw-point (due to a physical hinderment to the character's person.) I figured it would be interesting, and I'd give it a shot. And thus, Darby was born. Sort of. Darby was already floating about, but then I made her physically imapaired. Oh, Darby, maybe if you had a different writer, you'd be a more mobile viking. Maybe. But lol you ended up with me. You lucky duck.

By the way, Darby's name was a pain in the buttocks to come up with holy smoking salmon. I in the end just poicked a pretty name, since I could not for the life of me concoct a horrible one xD sorry if she breaks up the theme, but I figured it was okay. (Darby means a gathering of deer, or something to that effect. It had to do with deer. And gatherings of them.)Anyways, Please feel free to give me critisism, or corrections, suggestions, or just some nice reveiws. Nice reveiws are nice. And don't worry, I don't bite :)

Anyhoooooo, until next time!

Kat