Little Update, My pc is not yet fixed, I have an appointment later on today. So I wrote all this on my tablet, luckily my phone has a mobile hotspot function. But I wanted to give you a view of the village, and their reaction after finding Hiccup had left.

Well, less of the Village, and more of Stoic, this chapter focuses around his feelings of finding out why Hiccup had abandoned them.

I will continue with the main story line later on tonight when my pc is fixed, until then, enjoy, and please review.

He always believed himself to be a strong leader. A leader without fear, someone who could, and would lead his people into better times. However, he never expected a leader as strong and noble as him could be plagued by demons.

These demons are not the construct of some Hellish fiend, or spawned from Loki. No, these Demons are all his own doing. It's ironic to think that all he wanted to do was protect his son, tell him how much he loves him.

But such emotions are not those of a strong leader. They are for the weak, those who refuse to see life as it should be, and focus of the foolhardy.

Four days ago he arrived back from their dragon scouting mission. Despite his calm composure, Stoic was a nervous wreck. He made the decision of putting Hiccup in Dragon training, hoping it would teach him how to be a Viking.

Despite the ever growing feeling of doom in his gut, Stoic had remained focused on the task at hand, not able to give much thought to whether or not Hiccup would destroy the village in his absence.

But when he returned with what remained of their scouting party, he could never imagine the news he would receive in terms of Hiccup.

Apparently in his absence Hiccup had taken it upon himself to train day and night. Becoming the son he had always wanted. His feats in the ring could be compared to the greatest of Vikings.

Never had he felt more pride towards his son. His elation was short lived however when he became aware of what transpired mere hours before his arrival.

Now, a little sibling rivalry has never caused any harm. Amongst the villagers of Berk it is looked upon. One tends to better themselves when they have someone to compete with.

This however does not include Hiccup. After years of what he thought of to be a healthy competition between him and Snotlout, Hiccup broke. He is still unclear on all the details, but what he's heard so far is anything but alright.

After a thrilling victory in the ring, between Hiccup and a Deadly Nader, Snotlout had said several things that Hiccup took to heart. None of which were relatively appropriate for decent company.

Storming off, Hiccup left the ring, in favor of the forge, where he had begun crafting a blade of the likes has never been seen before. However, unsatisfied with what he had said before, Snotlout had gone after his son.

This proved to be a fatal mistake on his part. After much taunting, and uncharacteristic insults on Snotlout's part, Hiccup snapped.

He is unsure of what transpired between the two, but If Snotlout's current condition is anything to judge by…

Stoic shuddered at the sight behind his mind's eye.

Snotlout, lying unconscious in the healer's hut, his left arm had been cast, due to several fractures, and an unclean break. His shoulders and torso shroud in bandages. Blood stains where visible through the clean linen in several places. But what was truly nauseating, where the miles of stiches that held the skin of his face together.

His bottom lip had been ripped nearly off, his nose resembled a fully ripened apple, except of a bright red, it was a deep blue, the combination between a blue berry, and an unripened black berry. Not to mention the concoction of bruises ranging from putrefied-green, to vomit-yellow, covering nearly every inch of his body.

It was only after seeing Snotlout, was when he heard that Hiccup had left, and had not yet returned. Usually this was not something he would get concerned over. His son would often times leave the village for hours on end.

But an entire day passed, and he had not yet returned. Panic welled in his stomach as he organized a search party.

He didn't know what he would do if he lost his son too. After Val's death, he was never the same. After she passed away, he grew distant from Hiccup, choosing to focus on his duties as chef, rather than that of a father.

A part deep in his mind had hoped Hiccup would learn from his mistakes, and become the man he was destined to be. But that was all in vein.

After searching for the entire day, they were forced to call it off, when the sun fell on the island.

The mood among the villagers where dark and gloomy, despite the time of night. Hiccup was gone; they all had a suspicion of what happened to the boy, especially after what transpired between him and Snotlout.

Stoic on the other hand refused to accept the fact Hiccup was dead. He couldn't be, not after everything they went through together. The one thought that lent him strength In this time of darkness was the possibility that Hiccup was alive.

His son was a lot of things, rash, accident-prone, a nuisance, and always getting himself into trouble. But even through all his mistakes, failed inventions, and unsuccessful attempts at what he could only guess was glory; he was proud of his son.

He never told him this, but Stoic noticed his determination, his courage to face his mistake, and continue past it. Perhaps he should have told him this before he left in search of that cursed nest.

Maybe it would have changed things, changed the outcome of some things. But nothing can be done now, Hiccup was gone, whether ran away, or… … … he was gone, and he would have to wait, hopefully he would return.

And yet, the monsters in his chest refused to accept this thought of hope, the images of his room, how he had clearly turned it into his personal refuge, how he could not have entered, and the iron he had used to reinforce the door, but how it opened effortlessly on the hinges.

He should have listened to his ideas more. He should have done several things differently, if he had paid attention to his son, then he would have seen the clear sings that he was miserable.

One of hiccups' journals slid off the pile he had erected near his chair, startling the fearless Viking. Turning his attention away from the fallen book, he returned his attention to the one in his lap, and the date scribbled into the top left hand corner.

It was an entry from two years ago, describing an encounter between him and his cousin with vivid clarity, to say the description was a like a plague to the senses would be an apt analogy to what he was feeling.

As he scanned through the hordes of journals, some he remembered giving to him, saying that a strong warrior records their battles, and tells tales of their fantasies, but nothing like that would be found in these leather bound tomes.

In fact the only things that really occur through the novels, are his deepest and darkest emotions. At first he was appalled, refusing to believe that his son thought this way about the village, that they all, even him, his own father, treated him like that.

And then there was Astrid, she came up a lot, but it was never the way he had expected. The way he described the blond Viking was like how he treated Val's breast Helmet, with tender affection gone by all.

"Today, after a particularly nasty encounter with none other than Snotlout, I saw her again. I know I know, how many times will I record this? But what else can I do? She refuses to talk with me, and any attempts on my part end in her could shoulder. But how I long to be with her, Astrid. Today she was practicing with her axe again, her fluent motions with the deadly weapon sent shivers down my spine. Then again, perhaps I was just afraid of being spotted."

The entry was recorded with steadier hand strokes, being a chief; he is privy to the little things, like peoples hand writing and what it tells of one's character. Hiccup was taking his time recording this, taking pause after every word, to consider it, and ponder how to continue.

Despite the angst filled pages, stained from long dried tears. There were a few moments where he actually seemed to be happy, unfortunately for Stoic, the only times Hiccup appeared to be happy, truly happy was when he was in the forge with Gobber, who he considered more of a father, than his own father.

The demons in his chest found this piece of information particularly inviting. Causing them to increase their ravenous assault on his chest again.

"What type of father puts their own flesh and blood through this? What type of father would allow his son to suffer day and night, without a second regard to his own happiness. Now I know you're a Viking, and Vikings are supposed to be tough and strong, but this is barbaric."

A little voice whispered inside his head, and he knew it to be right. Stoic, the mighty chief of this tribe of Dragon-Fighting-Vikings, have allowed them to become the monsters they hunt by allowing this to happen to his son.

The only way to make this right, is to find Hiccup, and tell him how desperately sorry he is, and hope, by some small merger amount of hope that Hiccup will forgive him. But he doubts he will, none of them deserve his forgiveness, not now, not until the end of time.

But they can't let him go, not until they make things wright with him, Stoic knows that by running away, Hiccup was renounced any claims at being one of their tribe, and he also knows that, which only adds to the guilt.

However, right now they have more important matters to tend to right now. Harsh-winter is only a few months away, and the last dragon raid left their food stores depleted, so they have to restock that before anything can be done about Hiccup.