Chapter 11

Mildew and a handful of others, villagers whose support he could count on, hustled through the woods, carrying a shrouded body over their shoulders.

"Are you sure about this?" one asked nervously, "what if the Chief finds out?"

"He won't," Mildew retorted, "if questioned we all swear we never left the arena, and we vouch for each other. And even if he does find out, it'll be too late."

"And you're sure this will stop dragons from living on Berk?"

"Of course! You've all heard Useless complain that without a proper burial he's stuck here. If we give him a proper burial he goes, and his ideas go with him! Now, get some branches and make an altar, quick!"

They swiftly turned a pile of wood into a crude altar, upon which they sloppily and unceremoniously placed Hiccup's body. Mildew then struck a flint to make sparks and lit a stick. Although a light coating of snow had fallen the night before and the ground was damp, the wood was soon burning. Black smoke rose into the cool air as the body began to slowly turn into ashes.

Mildew suddenly cackled. "Well, goodbye Hiccup! Hope you'll be gone for good this time!"

In the arena people were still debating what Hiccup had suggested. Making friends with dragons seemed crazy, traitorous, and downright dangerous, but on the other hand nothing else had worked for three hundred years. Most of all, they were curious to see what the Chief actually thought about this.

For the first time in years Stoick was listening to Hiccup. The ghost was explaining all the advantages living with dragons could bring them. And while Stoick was still hesitant, for he held personal reasons for hating dragons which could not be simply dismissed with a wave of his hand, he had to admit some of Hiccup's points had potential to help Berk.

"—think about it, dad: how many people suffer from the cold here every winter? If it doesn't make them sick or causes them to freeze to death, they're miserable night and day. With dragons, we'd never have to worry about the cold again!" Hiccup was eagerly saying.

Had this concerned any other species, Stoick might have agreed at once to bring them to Berk. But, because this was dragons they were talking about, he still felt unsure of it.

"And what if they set our homes on fire?"

"We can train them not to do that, and we can train them to put fires out. We'll have the best fire prevention method this side of the Atlantic!"

"I say we do it." Gobber urged.

Spitelout had returned and now shook his head. "I say this is a bunch of dreams,"

As Stoick sat deep in thought, he saw the other teens timidly them. Ruffnut was clinging to her brother, who was looking at the ghost with more appreciation than he had ever shown before. Then he looked concerned. "You don't look so good, Hic."

Indeed, on second glance, the ghost looked more ashen than before and he was bending forward a little ways, as if his stomach was upsetting him.

"Hiccup, what is it?"

"I don't know," he said, looking at his hands, "I've haven't felt like this before…"

"Oh. Well, we all talked it over and we just came to say—"

Ruffnut abruptly threw herself at Hiccup's feet and wept. "Hiccup, please, forgive me! Forgive all of us! I'm so sorry for what I did to you…and to Toothless,"

"Whatever we did to you, we promise we'll never do it again," Tuffnut added quickly, "And…thanks for my sister,"

Hiccup shrugged and put a hand to his forehead. "I feel warm…"

"We're sorry," Snotlout said numbly. "I'm sorry, coz,"

Fishlegs was crying so much he could not speak coherently. He tried to say his apologies but could only say "I'm," over and over.

Astrid felt the ghost's gaze on her. She took a deep breath. "I never loved you, Hiccup. You probably know that now. But I never hated you, and I never wanted any of this for you either."

His smile was faint and fleeting. "That's the Hofferson way of offering an apology I suppose. All right, I'll—" He suddenly doubled up and clenched his chest.

"Hiccup, what's wrong?" Astrid asked anxiously. The others said asked similar questions, for they now saw his spectral form was changing from gray to coal black.

"Son? What's happening to you?"

"I don't know…" his gaze fell upon Spitelout and his eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. "Yes I do! I don't know how, but I'm—whatever you have to say, you'd better say it fast. And remember what I've told you about dragons! It is possible to befriend them! Remember that when people Spitelout and Mildew try to force you to believe otherwise!"

Gobber rushed over. He understood what was happening. "Hiccup, you were the best smith I have ever known. You were like a son to me…never let anyone tell you differently!"

"I won't, Gobber," he said weakly. He glanced at his father, but Stoick looked unsure of what to say to him and hesitated to draw near. Perhaps it was the display of emotion in public that made him hesitant, perhaps it was because, unlike Gobber he did not understand, or perhaps it was because he had never truly known how to behave around his unusual son.

"Nothing Dad? Not even now?"

Stoick looked confused. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

Ruffnut cried out again, "Forgive me, Hiccup! I'm so sorry!"

"I don't—" And then Hiccup gagged loudly. The blackened ghost clenched his chest as if he was having a heart attack, and with a final groan of agony he vanished into the winter air.

Everyone looked around, half expecting him to reappear somewhere else. After all, he had done this kind of trick several times before.

Nothing happened. No one ever saw or heard Hiccup again.

The End