Tomorrow (21st of July 2020) is the 6th anniversary of publishing the first chapter of "Hiccup at large" – my most serious fanfiction series. This little piece here is meant to commemorate it.

(…)

Night noticed before Rusty did. It was the shifting of her attention from the snowball in his hand to the space behind him that alerted him to the new presence on the glade. He turned, and sure enough, there was a person walking towards them. Astrid Hofferson, the daughter of his cousin Mist. Her movements stroke him as unnaturally slow – anxious, even – but he figured she had a solid reason to be feeling down. Following the sudden departure of all of the Berkian dragons, pretty much everybody on the island was in a foul mood. Rusty couldn't say he wasn't affected, either. Even though his companion was a Speed Stinger and had no wings to fly on, she could still pull a number on him. Fortunately, her behavior tonight was no different than usual, and he hoped it would stay that way.

Rusty let his snowball drop to the ground and spoke up. "Hello, Astrid. What brings you here?"

The girl came to a halt two steps away from him. "I need a favor," she declared solemnly.

Rusty nodded. "I'll help you in any way I can."

Night rubbed his palm with her head, so he pet her.

Astrid glanced at the Speed Stinger, allowing wistfulness to mar her features. The next second, she snapped out of it and spoke up.

"I was thinking – everybody's feeling down. They could use a distraction. Something to get their minds off of dragons being gone. We could come up with some new Snoggletog traditions. That ought to get people back in the holiday mood."

The girl's face lit up as she revealed her plan. Rusty was relieved to hear the enthusiasm in her voice. This was the Astrid he knew – one that took initiative, loved her community and did not give up in face of a crisis.

"That is a good idea," he admitted, continuing to rub his Speed Stinger's jaw. "Have you thought about the specifics?"

Astrid skewed up her face. "Well, I did come up with a special drink. Yak nog. Kind of like egg nog, but with a special ingredient. And, well..." she looked aside, pushing her bangs behind her ear, only for them to fall back into place. "I need ingredients."

Rusty nodded, processing her words. The unusual unease was making sense now. Astrid's mother was certain to provide the basic ingredients – egg, milk and butter – but she wouldn't have spices. Certainly not the fancy ones, which Astrid probably wanted. Those, she couldn't afford.

Realizing what the problem was, the young laeknir sympathized with his younger relative. "Of course. What do you need? Honey? Vanilla? Cinnamon?"

Astrid hesitated. She looked right, looked left, then back at him. She then straightened her back and told him what she needed.

His eyebrows flew up to his hairline.

"Yes, I know," she said hurriedly. "It's hard to obtain. I don't expect you to give it to me just like that. I'll work it off. You have my word."

Rusty gaped at her for a moment more. Night gave him a push to the side, prompting him to respond. "What gave you the idea?" he managed. A perfectly valid question, considering how unusual the request was.

"My mother made me drink it when I was little," Astrid explained. "She said it would make me strong, that it increases your life forces or something like this. The village could use an energy boost right now, so maybe it's worth a shot."

There was some logic to what Astrid was saying, but not enough to sway a man who had been trained as a laeknir. "You mean to disguise a virility enhancement as a Snoggletog drink," he stated blankly.

"Yes!" she confirmed vigorously. "It's brilliant, don't you think?"

Rusty was at a loss. He hated having to be the killjoy, but that poor girl needed to hear some harsh truths. "Astrid, no offence, but no amount of spices could mask a taste as vile as this. If you use it in an egg nog, nobody is going to drink it."

Astrid disagreed. "Mother claims she mixed it with all sorts of foods when I was little. If she could do it, so can I."

Rusty had to shake his head at that. Considering that Mist's firstborn son died in infancy and her second son at the age of two, she may have taken extreme measures to make sure her daughter's diet had enough nutrients. There was a fair chance the girl didn't notice the extra ingredient in her meals if it was just a droplet or two per serving. If she did notice, she wouldn't have dared complain, anyway. Not if she had a sense of self-preservation.

Alas, the situation at hand was different. "Be honest with yourself, Astrid – you'd eat anything your mother served you, no matter how disgusting it was. That's the way you were raised. But the villagers aren't your children. If your concoction is not to their liking, they won't drink it."

These words did not sit well with Astrid. Still, the annoyance on her face told Rusty she acknowledged his arguments. Perhaps he will be able to talk her out of that ill-conceived plan after all. "Look, I don't mean to burst your bubble," he spoke on, his tone amicable, "but if your goal is to boost our morale, you should make regular egg nog and not waste your time playing with a dietary supplement. You'll save yourself a lot of trouble."

Astrid sent him a murderous glare. "How is egg nog going to help anyone? The village needs a kick in the ass right now, not a pat on the back. This is what yak nog is – a revelation to blow them all away. And even if they don't like it – and they WILL like it – it will make them feel better in the end. Mark my words."

Rusty could do nothing but stare at her. The strength of her conviction, the pointed finger, the gritted teeth – this was a woman on a mission. A suicidal mission, but a mission nonetheless. He wasn't equipped to deal with that, not in a million years.

A moment passed in which Astrid studied him. Seeing that he had no intention of confronting her anymore, nor backing her up, she slowly relaxed. "Just… just name your price, okay?" she asked, looking at him with a mixture of disdain and weariness.

Rusty heaved a sigh. He could see she just wouldn't let go. There was no point in arguing further. If she insisted on setting herself up for failure, despite his warnings, then perhaps this was something she needed to experience first-hand. Besides, what right did he have to refuse a medical substance to somebody who was willing to pay or trade?

Rusty tugged at his beard, carefully analyzing all factors in the equation. 'Mist is not going to be happy about this,' he told himself. It may have been immature of him to worry about what his cousin's opinion, but he couldn't help it. Mist Egilsdottir Hvitrhraun was not somebody you wanted as your enemy.

'If the price is too low, she's going to say I'm spoiling her daughter. If it's too high, Astrid is going to feel I'm doing this out of spite, and I don't want to be that kind of guy. I could go with the market price, but that could be interpreted as lack of interest in my young cousin's development. What else is there?'

Next to him, Night crushed some snow with her foot. If the swaying of her body was any indication, she was getting bored with the conversation. Rusty gave her an apologetic pat. She tilted her head, letting out an irritated growl.

'I hear you, girl,' Rusty thought, hoping she sensed it. He reached out and ran his finger alongside the fin on top of Night's head. Such a graceful creature, that Speed Stinger of his.

In a sudden jolt of inspiration, Rusty turned back to Astrid. "How is your embroidery coming along?" he asked casually.

The girl stiffened. "Umh. Not good," she muttered, her expression guarded. "I mean, I'm managing, but..."

This was exactly what Rusty expected to hear. "I want a pillowcase. With Night's likeness embroidered onto it," he declared, indicating his dragon companion.

"You can't be serious," Astrid blurted, panicking. "I can hardly stich a simple pattern."

"At your age? Such a shame," Rusty teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Astrid glared daggers at him. "I am not joking, Rusty. My embroidery sucks. You don't want that on your pillowcase. It'll just give you nightmares."

Th young laeknir was grinning like an idiot and had no intention of stopping. An awful looking embroidery seemed like just the right price for an awful tasting substance. "This is what I want, Astrid. You embroider Night's likeness onto a pillowcase for me or you find somebody else to trade with."

He could see the mental battle taking place inside her head. For a moment she weighted the pros and cons, her features alternating between annoyance, horror and determination. Unsurprisingly, what she finally settled in for was determination. "Fine. We have a deal."

Rusty nodded, pleased with himself. Even if that yak nog of hers will make the whole village sick, she will practice her needlework in the months to come. Her mother should appreciate this kind of a compromise.