Chapter 2

An old, bitter man walked through the village. Ever since he was a young child he strived to protect and preserve Berk, a village established by men on the precepts of nobility. However, the area was inhabited and cursed by demons. Monsters that breathed fire, hunting for the right meat to satisfy its raging hunger. And what was their favorite selection? Human flesh a la carte. Dragons were disgusting foul beasts incapable of any feelings. As such, creatures were to be destroyed to ensure the survival of the Vikings. He strived to become the best fighter he could, killing every demon that challenged him and taking their teeth as trophy. It was never enough. But as he grew old, he began to realize that his time as a warrior was coming to an end. Before he had a chance to savor it, he found himself (and Gothi) to be the last of his generation. So he receded into his distant home to farm for the remainder of his life. With Stoick the Vast—the epitome of Viking character— as chief, with a beautiful wife and a healthy (if not somewhat scrawny) baby boy; all was well. It calmed his nerves and concern for Berk's welfare that such a man led the village and it truly was a tragedy when his wife died. But the child proved to be a disappointment; never growing into the stature that his ancestry shared, getting in the way and causing trouble, and just being generally different from the other youth. When he betrayed his father, betrayed the village, betrayed Berk and all it stood for by befriending their enemies, Mildew expected him to get what he deserved – a traitor's banishment. But no, his father and the village chose to accept him, and the Berk he knew, the Berk he had spent his life upholding fell to ruin, all because a hiccup deemed the dragons tamable. The horrid monsters that were responsible for the deaths of many great Vikings now lived in peace among Berk's citizens as though there had been no war. It outraged the old man to no end and as far as he was concerned, none of it was justified.

So there he was, an elder in his own right and yet unable to rest because he felt compelled to defend the work of his honorable forefathers and conserve the work of Bork. Upon reaching the town center at last he spotted the blacksmith by the base of the statue dedicated to Berk's founder, smiling up at the image which he had probably just finished assembling himself.

Hobbling over, he grumbled longingly, "Ah, the good old days. Brings tears to me eyes. We could use a man like Bork around here."

Gobber turned to the unpleasant arrival with a long-suffering expression. "Tradition's a fine thing, Mildew, but things have changed. For the better if you ask me." And he meant it. Gobber couldn't be more proud of his young apprentice for the exceptional transformation he'd wrought on the Viking way of life. It was by far his best work, and his legacy for generations to come.

"I didn't," was the cranky reply. As ever Fungus praised his owner's words with a bleat of approval.

"We've come a long way from the time when it was us or the dragons. You might be a little less crusty is you got used to that, Mildew."

Swallowing his indignation, the old man forced politeness. "I'll pass, thanks." Fungus voiced his agreement once more, much to Gobber's annoyance. Then, changing the subject and tone, Mildew inquired, "When are Bork's archives goin' on display? You still got that dragon gutting dagger of his, don't you?" That was his favorite.

"They'll all be in the Great Hall tomorrow; don't you worry."

Mildew muttered his distrust as the blacksmith walked away. His wrinkled eyes seemed keener to follow the man's prosthetic foot than anything else. Turning on his heel he headed to the docks in search of Trader Johan's ship. At the sound of shrieking, he glanced up as a blue Nadder and a Night Fury zoomed by. He scowled at the sight then resumed his purposeful stride, having spotted the person he came for:

"Johan!"

Said trader turned from the goods he was arranging and smiled warmly. "Ah, Mildew, good to see you. What can I do for you?"

The old man stepped closer and brought out a thick scroll with a name scrawled across the top. "When will you see him?"

"Oh, I visit him next, should be there by tomorrow morning."

"And my services will be completely confidential, I assume?"

"Oh, yes, yes."

Satisfied, the customer handed over the document and bid the foreign man a fond farewell before he and his beloved woolly friend left the ship.

oOo

Astrid was running, pumping her legs as hard a she could. Alvin had appeared before her in a likewise manner as before, only this time she wasted no time in sprinting to protect Hiccup. She had to get to him, to warn him, to save him.

"Hiccup… Hiccup!" She panted with mixed relief and anxiety as she reached her destination. "You gotta get outta here!"

He faced her with eyebrows drawn in confusion. "Astrid – why? What's wrong?"

Though still trying to catch her breath, she did her best to answer: "It's Alvin; he's trying to kill you." He stared at her with an expression she was unfamiliar with. Is he configuring? In denial? Or… no! Focus on the task at hand! "He took my axe!" Why did I say that?! She shook her head, frustrated by her lack of composure. Under normal circumstances she would never have become so flustered. Asgaurd above, Astrid was never flustered! She was calm and level-headed and battle-hardened like any warrior! But for some reason in her desperate fear she was not herself and spoke on impulse.

"Astrid," His voice interrupted her jumbled thoughts. She noticed that he shook his head as if in incredulous doubt. "Conventional methods can become old fashioned, predictable and common, thus incompatible; but the thrill of modern ways can be so extreme that they are unsuccessful."

What? But before either of them could say any more, Alvin was there, his massive form tackling Hiccup and pinning him to the ground. No scream penetrated the air. Time seemed to slow as Astrid, frozen in horror and unable to do anything, watched Alvin raise the axe and swiftly bring it down. Again and again and again the weapon hit, each time with a powerful thud.

Bang, bang, bang, BANG.

Astrid shot up in bed, her body in a cold sweat. Her eyes wandered around the room as her racing heart rate slowed. It wasn't until minutes later that she noticed the sounds of commotion outside: Vikings yelling, dragons flapping, and the pops and sizzles she associated with flames.

Bang, bang, bang.

Someone pounded the ceiling from the first floor. "Astrid! Get down here now!" Without a moment to lose, she did as she was told and found her mom at the bottom of the stairs fussing.

"What? What is it?" Astrid asked.

"The armory's on fire. Quick, fire brigade! Get on that dragon of yours." Her mother handed her a bucket before running outside with one her own.

oOo

"Alright… that's it… now just a few more hot spots left." The chief of the tribe projected his directions to the riders and dragons flying overhead. A Night Fury swept about cascading water on the smoldering building below. A blue Nadder joined them.

"Ah, what took you so long?" Hiccup teased, smiling over his shoulder at the newly-arrived Astrid, but was surprised when she didn't join in. She seemed to pick that precise moment to analyze the scales on Stormfly's back, her face solemn and cheerless. As the last of the fire was extinguished, both riders landed their dragons in the village square, where Hiccup immediately jumped off and approached Stormfly. Astrid slid off on the opposite side and joined the gathering around chief Stoick. Hiccup reached her side but didn't say a word as his father began to talk.

"Good job everyone, good job. Now, does anyone know how it started?" Murmuring broke out among the crowd as they discussed possibilities with each other; however, none noticed the figure sitting alone on the steps of the Great Hall, smiling at the scene before him. Eventually the gathering hushed, one conversation gaining the attention of all. The Thorston twins fought, as usual, among themselves, each blaming the other and their respective dragon head. Their spotlight quickly drew the attention of the chief and he came storming over to settle the dispute.

"Did one of you start this fire?"

"Oh, uh, well Chief – she did it!" Tuffnut declared. His sister looked shocked at the accusation.

"I did not! You did!"

"Uh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

"Uh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

"Uh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

Stoick turned to his son. "You need to get your dragons outta here."

oOo

"Guys... guys … GUYS!" Hiccup, again, had to break up the twins' quarrels. "It doesn't matter who did it, but did Barf or Belch start the fire?"

"Oh, wait what? No, we're talking about who ate the last piece of chicken." Tuffnut gestured to himself and his sister. "It had my name on it, too!"

Hiccup deadpanned at the response. Astrid approached him. "It's okay. At least the academy isn't responsible for starting it. Like you said, our dragons don't do that anymore." Her words seemed to comfort him somewhat, but she could tell that he was still contemplating.

"I know… but if we didn't do it and the dragons didn't do it, then who did?" His eyes searched hers.

"Hiccup!" The group turned to see Stoick and Gobber entering the arena.

"Dad, I think we can cross off the twins. They were just being—"

Stoick interrupted, looking troubled. " Hiccup, I'm sorry son, but the academy needs to close down for a couple of days. "

"What? Why?"

"The armory's been destroyed, everything. Big Bertha barely escaped," Gobber reported seriously.

"You're the only other one in the village who can work with Gobber," the chief continued. "So we need you to work in the forge." The blacksmith nodded in agreement.

As the scene played out, none noticed the inconspicuous figure skulking above who watched the three walk out of the arena. With a malevolent smile spreading across thin lips, he turned and left.

oOo

THWACK!

In a flash of silver, an axe embedded itself into a tree. Scratches and scrapes adorning the metal blade attested to its regular use. The wooden handle was strong and durable, though in truth the leather grip was worn and the wood beginning to chip to reveal the natural grain. In an instant, the petite-but-callused hand that had thrown it clutched the weapon's handle and tugged it free of the bark. Astrid sighed when she noticed the blade of her beloved item was chipping, though that was not what primarily weighed on her mind.

"Why is it that last time the whole armory was burnt, they did not ask Hiccup to help, and this time they do?" Hiccup – killed in her dreams and taken away in reality; something wasn't right.

SNAP. Her head shot up at the sound of a twig cracking nearby. At once she was still and vigilant, her ears and eyes peeled. She scanned the surrounding trees, though saw nothing besides a few scattering birds. After a moment she relaxed her stance and sighed again.

Spinning her axe expertly, she angled her body in a reverse tumble, took aim and threw. Suddenly, out of nowhere a small round rock flew and struck the weapon causing it to veer off course. Concerned, she quickly picked it up and to her horror the blade was now marred by a large chip. It meant that now the whole instrument would be off balance and unable to glide through the air correctly. The rest of the metal was easily susceptible to compromise and any further strain could ruin her mother's axe. She slumped in frustration and set off to attend to her next chore.

oOo

It was easy to hear the pounding going on in the forge. As Astrid neared the entrance she could see Hiccup in his leather apron, creating the thunder sound of metal hitting metal. Somehow he looked even smaller and more innocent here in this setting than anywhere else in Berk.

"Hiccup," She called as she crossed though the doorway.

Pausing in his work, he looked up and greeted her with smile. "Hi, Astrid."

"Where's Gobber? Isn't he supposed to be working too?"

"Uh, well yeah but, um, never mind..."

She stared at him, her thoughts mildly astir. His eyes were so green, so vibrant; such small things but they seemed to absorb the whole world. She knew she had to say something but she couldn't find the energy to form an intelligible sentence. All she could do was smile, smile and stare.

Meanwhile, Hiccup's mind was preoccupied with its own puzzle. I wish she would just tell me what's wrong. She comes here, obviously with something on her mind, but doesn't say a word. She hasn't been confiding in me like she used to. Then It dawned on him: For the love of… Does it have to do with me? But then why would she be concerned with Snotlout? She doesn't act the same towards him either. Just as he opened his mouth to inquire on these uncertainties, he was abruptly interrupted.

"Hiccup, I'm not 'earin' any poundin' in there!" Gobber's voice preceded his appearance. "Oh, 'ello Astrid, come fer a visit did ya?" He noticed the axe she had gripped in her hands. "What'cha got there?"

Her eyes immediately darted to her damaged weapon. "Oh, uh," she stuttered, swinging it up for them to see, "it was chipped during practice." She placed it in Gobber's outstretched hand. It was all she could do to avoid Hiccup's piercing gaze while the older Viking examined it.

"This doesn't look like it was caused by striking ordinary trees, Astrid."

"No, a rock flew out and hit it."

"A rock?" Hiccup repeated, instantly puzzled.

Astrid nodded. She knew it sounded dumb but it was the truth.

"Well, at least it wasn't another one of those flaming squirrels," Gobber murmured before turning to deposit the weapon on a nearby table. "We'll fix it for ya, Astrid, don't you worry."

All three of them then turned at the sound of commotion stirring outside. Making their way out, they were met by a mob of raucous Vikings, the leader of which immediately pointed his large staff at Hiccup to draw the crowd's attention to the boy. The group came to a halt and gradually silenced as their ringleader begin his rant.

"Here he is; the rider of the Night Fury – the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself." Astrid and Hiccup glanced at each other. Here we go again.

Hiccup stepped forward. "You all know that Toothless isn't like that. He hasn't done anything against any of us!"

Mildew smirked a wide, devious grin. "You're right, 'iccup, he 'asn't. A dragon's gonna do what a dragon's gonna do; they're animals, pets really. They have no control over themselves. We have to feed them, we have to house them, and we have to train them. And all for what reward? Our lives."

"What are you getting at, Mildew?" Astrid fixed him with her coldest stare as she put her hand on her hip. "Hiccup defeated the Red Death, he ended the dragon raids—"

"Yes, but how? Did he tell you that?"

"He used Toothless to take out the wings of that big boy," Gobber joined in. "Listened well to his teacher," he added with a proud chuckle.

The old man growled, clearly unsatisfied. "Bah! But how was he able to use that ...dragon?" He demanded, directing a hate-filled glare now not at Hiccup, but at Astrid, as though he expected her to answer.

A/N: I just love Mildew, don't you? Is it possible to have a favorite villain? Well, chapter 2 is posted, any ideas of where the story will go from here?

You can't control everything that happens in life, but you can control how you respond to it.