Snotlout/Hiccup Plot edit copy

Hiccup struck a deal with Quicklegs, making three long-handled spoons, four bowls, and a custom ladle for her use. He engraved her initials into all of them, including a bonus set of smaller nesting spoons to measure ingredients. No other cook could walk off with them and plead ignorance, a real possibility in a busy kitchen. In return, she agreed to providing him with a hearty meal. “Enough to feed two people, not counting Toothless. Any variety of foods I have available, because, ‘please, please, Quicklegs, I need this favor.’” She gave him a motherly look. “You fulfilled your part of the bargain—you don’t have to beg, Hiccup. I hope it works out for you.”

She thought he was trying to impress Astrid.

Hel, no. This was for Snotlout.

Now Hiccup sat cross-legged on the grass, listening to the shrill sounds of terrors singing. The booty lay spread on the ground: two types of bread, six apples, a large bowl of blueberries, fish stew, cheese, chicken, mutton, and yak chops.

“Hiccup, how did you ever figure this out?” Snotlout’s amazed expression was priceless.

Hiccup pointed with his drumstick. “Toofless.”

“Whaddya mean, Toothless?”

He swallowed the chicken.“I caught him cadging at the kitchen door. Quicklegs bought his sad-hopeful-starving act, and he got half a salmon and a large cod out of the deal. Anyway, she inspected me, told me I needed a good feed, gave me a baked cod and some chicken, then told me to come back again.” Hiccup gestured to himself. “I gained five inches in two months, and had to lengthen my leg four times.” His dragon sucked down the last tarbot and sniffed the ground for more. “No one comes behind the Mead hall when they can eat inside.”

“That’s why you finally grew—I thought you were going to be a pipsqueak all your life. I need to get her to feed me, or at least stop feeding you. You’re tall enough, and I don’t plan to be shorter than you are.” Snotlout sprawled on the grass, taking a bite of the bread and savoring the flavor. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.”

“I’m glad you approve. Oh, I brought some ale, too.”

“Thanks. So, why am I here, anyway? If it’s for advice, I can probably help you out. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you to match my greatness, but I’m willing to be generous. What do you need—grooming tips, wardrobe advice, help attracting girls?” Snotlout gnawed on a chop. “Astrid’s mine, though, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I was looking for help with battle tactics. There’s got to be a way to incorporate dragons. Have you got any ideas, like mixing weapons training with flying Hookfang, or using a bow or sling in the air?” Hiccup was targeting his cousin’s ego.

“Of course I have. I don’t know why you didn’t ask before—I could teach fighting from dragonback, y’know.”

“I never thought of that.” Hiccup slapped his hand to his forehead. “Sorry, I’m an idiot. Tell me—do you have any ideas about techniques I can try with Toothless?” Hiccup filled a tankard of ale he’d fortified with Stoick’s better stuff, and handed it to him.

One mutton leg and a loaf of bread later, Hiccup was listening to Snotlout talk about the benefits of using a mace over a hammer. After two apples and some cheese, his cousin was advising him on the best locations for Berk’s catapults. Another half tankard had him sharing bodybuilding tips. He’d mellowed with the food and drink, and Hiccup eased into the real reason he arranged this meal.

“Those are great suggestions.” And I have my opening. Thank you, Thor. “There is another thing I’m thinking about, and you, cousin, are the only one I can come to with this.” Seeing Snotlout ready to interrupt, he said, “It’s not dangerous, okay? No flying is involved, no new inventions, and no unfamiliar dragons. Toothless the Ridiculously Protective isn’t stopping me, either.” Snotlout glanced at the dragon and received a sickeningly gummy smile. “This is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had and when everyone discovers what’s going on, they will be amazed. I guarantee Gothi is going to put this into the tribal records.” Hel, She probably has a separate Hiccup’s weird ideas section. “She’ll update the Haddock and Jorgensen clan records, too.”

“Alright already, just tell me. It’s not like I can shut you up when you’re in word-vomit mode.” Toothless sniggered. “See? Your dragon agrees with me. So talk.” He refilled his mug and tipped it to his lips.

“I want you to move into my house.”

Snotlout choked.

§ § §

Hiccup stopped thumping his cousin’s back. Snotlout’s recovery took a few minutes, but he could breathe again and didn’t have the horrified look on his face any longer. Hiccup pushed forward. “So, what do you think?”

“You’re insane.” He eyed Hiccup, dumbfounded. “I know crazy is what you do, but even for you, this is nuts.”

“Oh, come on, Snotlout. This is brilliant.”

His cousin shot him an incredulous look. “I see you every day, and you always have something you want me to do. ‘Snotlout, we’re practicing maneuvers. Snotlout, my dad wants us to patrol. Snotlout, stop Hookfang from flaming.’ Nag, nag. Now you want me to spend more time with you? Forget it, Hiccup—there’s no way I’m doing that.”

“First off, we’re all supposed to patrol, and the maneuvers are every two weeks. You just have to look at a schedule. Second, Hookfang is your dragon, and you told him to wait at the docks. Do you know what it’s like to deal with a bunch of angry fishermen who blame you because it involves someone else’s dragon?”

“I didn’t think the eels would bother him.”

“You know they do. We went over this three times at the academy, Snotlout.” Hiccup wasn’t going to get angry, he reminded himself. He needed Snotlout’s cooperation. In a calmer voice, he said, “You’re supposed to look out for Hookfang. Having him panic and flame up was a disaster. I had to explain it to Dad, and he made me fix the docks, because ‘they need repairing now, and we cannot wait for Snotlout.’”

“It’s not my fault you’re the Chief’s son.”

“That’s what I’m trying to talk to you about. Dad’s been shoving Chieftain lessons at me for months, and I’m worried he wants to retire soon. I can hold him off for a while, but he’ll stick me with the job at some point, and I’m not ready.”

“This isn’t news, cuz. I’m not sure I want to live on an island run by Chief Hiccup.” Snotlout finished off the dregs of his ale—well, Stoick’s ale—and Hiccup reclaimed the pitcher.

“Thanks for that, Snotlout. I don’t have a choice in this, but you’re forgetting something. One day, you’re going to be doing Spitelout’s work. Eldest Jorgensen son gets to fight for the tribe and advise the Chief, right?”

Snotlout grimaced. “You know, I’m not sure my dad would want me to take his job.”

“I looked it up. The Jorgensens have always supported the Haddock chiefs, from the first generation. Your dad’s not going to let you refuse, and you can’t anyway; it’s part of the job description. You’re heir to clan Jorgensen, Snotlout. We are in the same boat and I’m trying to deal with what’s coming next, so can you listen to me?” Snotlout nodded.

“One of these days, I’m going to take over from my Dad, the best Chief Berk ever had. I get to inherit all his advisors, a bunch of ornery, boar-headed men over twice my age who think of me as Stoick’s boy. I’m going to need every advantage.” He grinned. “That’s why this is such a great idea.”

“It’s great idea for you—you get to have me around—but what do I get out of it? Living with your dad is no picnic, and I know you have a bunch of things you probably want from me, so why should I stay at your house?”

“Because you’ve seen how well our dads get on. They’re both stubborn...”

“Stoick’s worse. I’ve seen him with my dad. He’s definitely worse.”

“Spitelout’s not much better. Their whole relationship is bizarre. Everyone knows they’re brothers and it’s as if they don’t want to recognize it. They can’t admit they like each other, but definitely trust each other, while fighting all the time. Spitelout’s always pushing Dad, questioning his authority, and telling him how to do it better. Dad doesn’t listen, and has the impatience with all the hassle Spitelout causes, and keeps trying to shut him up. Both of them have an awful temper.”

“Again, Stoick’s worse.”

“I refuse to have that argument; I don’t want either of them mad at me.”

“I still don’t know why this should mean something to me, Hiccup.” Snotlout leaned forward. “Tell me what I get from this.”

“Well, it gives me a chance to know you better. We’re going to work together for a long time and it would help us get along. Do you want to always be fighting with me?”

“Well, no, not always.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but pursued the point. “We need to get along. One day, we’re going to be the people in charge and there won’t be Gobber or Spitelout to run things. I want the security about leaving the island in your charge if I had to go somewhere. Return dates are unpredictable. Your parents kept me for an extra two weeks when Dad got stuck in a quarantine on Meathead.” Stoick barely made it back in time for harvest that year. “The better I know you, the more assured I am if you watch over the tribe for a few weeks. You’d know I was confident and it would be valid, not just me putting you in charge because we’re family.”

“This is still about what’s good for you. Do you have anything to offer me?”

“You would look good in the eyes of the tribe. Because I trust you, they’ll be more likely to listen to you. You’re a Jorgensen, and that will make the Jorgensens look good. The Jorgensen line has always produced warriors. You’ll be able to fight for the tribe as well as look after it. The senior tribe members will be reassured.”

“I know how to fight and it’ll make the old farts happy, gotcha.”

“You are a good fighter. I’ve seen you train with your dad. You win Thawfest every year. You fought off two massive outcasts with a piece of rod to rescue me from Outcast Island. I don’t say anything, but I’m glad to have you on my side.”

“You have a point there; I’m much better than you are, cuz.” He struck a pose, and Hiccup snorted. “What else?”

“It will get you used to the kind of problems a chief has to solve. And,” Hiccup cut him off, “that makes you look capable to my dad. If Stoick the Vast has a council meeting, and you have to substitute for Spitelout, he will take you more seriously. Then the rest of them might listen more—no promises, they’re the council—so it’s worth trying. That’s something you’ve accomplished on your own, but it will please your dad. Besides, you’re not going to spend much time with my dad. He has work, we have the Academy, you spend time with your father, and I’m in the forge. You’ll see each other at breakfast and bed. You and I will spend time together at home, and you’ll have to learn stuff, but so will I because,” Hiccup’s face split wide, “I’ll be having weapons training with Uncle Spite.”

“You want my dad to teach you how to fight? I mean, not that it’s not a great idea, but why?”

“Look, Spitelout’s got more proficiency with weapons than almost anyone on Berk. How many weapons can he use, Snotlout? Axe, mace, staff, bola—the list is huge. He’s at least above average with every weapon in the smithy. He’s strong, he’s skilled, and he’s spent years training you.”

“You know how to fight. You’re great with a sword, good with a crossbow, and your longbow is decent. You don’t need my dad to train you.”

“I want to learn from him. I’m valuable because I’m the Heir, and I’m valuable when I become Chief. I’ve been lured away and held captive by Alvin. My dad was taken by Dagur the Deranged, remember? I was fifteen years old, acting Chief, and had no idea what to do. Everyone wanted Stoick the Vast and refused to listen to his son, but expected me to get him back.” Hiccup never talked about this stuff, but he’d thought about it a lot, and his voice grew passionate. “You told me ten minutes ago about building muscle. I have grown taller, but I’m never going to be beefy. I need to be capable of fighting; if someone steals my leg, or Toothless’ fin, or one of us is injured, I still have to function. I’ll learn anything your dad wants. I don’t want to fight, but I don’t plan to die.” He looked at his cousin, and said in a softer voice, “And I don’t want to get the people around me killed, either.”

“Yeah. You might want to tell that to my dad. He’s good at matching skills with people.” Snotlout’s single slow nod was an echo of Spitelout’s, and Hiccup knew he had his cousin’s agreement. Then Snotlout gave Hiccup a cocky grin.

“There’s going to be a big part of my dad feeling smug ‘cause he’s teaching Stoick’s son. The mighty Haddocks asking a Jorgensen for weapons training? He’s gonna brag for months. Scoring a point off your old man will never get old.”

“While my father will have Spitelout’s son living in his house, learning from his son, on the duties of a chief. He’ll be thrilled to have that against your dad.”

“Now all we have to do is get them to agree to this.”

§ § §

Toothless lay against the wall, warm from the ovens inside, and snoozed. Hiccup caught his breath as Snotlout arrived, answering to his summons.

“Okay, Hiccup, I’m here. What is it about?”

“My father’s looking for me. I’ve managed to avoid him until now, but Gobber says I have until this evening at the latest to see him before he sends out a search party. Tonight we’re going to present the plan, and I want to go over this one more time. What are we doing?”

“Hiccup, relax. It’ll be fine. We’ve got nothing to worry about...but I still think you should go first.”

“Snotlout, I’ll stop worrying when you prove you know the plan. We have to get this right, or it will be a waste of everybody’s time. And, no, I am not going first.” Hiccup’s voice was firm.

“Fine, fine. We talk to our dads and sell them on this idea of yours, which is, by the way, still crazy. I tell my dad he gets to train you with weapons, and you tell Stoick I get to learn about...what was it, again?”

“‘The rigors of being a chief, son,’ is the phrase you’re looking for.” Hiccup drew his chin down to chest and furrowed his brow. Snotlout snorted at the Stoick imitation. The two of them had some problems, but definitely bonded over living with difficult dads.

“Right, I get to live with and learn some chief stuff from you, not Stoick. I’m still not sure he’s gonna buy that. I mean, we’re Jorgensens—why should we care?”

“Tell him it gives him a chance to train a completely different type of kid. I’m the fishbone, right? He can prove his skill at teaching someone who isn’t built like he is. Say it gives the tribe confidence in me. Point out my dad can’t do it personally, or he’d be neglecting the tribe.” He took a breath. “You know, Uncle Spite’s a big guy, but my dad is massive. How can Dad train someone my size? Mention that. Remind him you’ll have more opportunity to influence your cousin and share your great Jorgenson self with me. Make it up, Snotlout. Tell him what he wants to hear. If he agrees to it and Dad doesn’t, that makes my father look bad. Don’t lie, just let him think he’s winning. That’s what I’m doing. Stoick the Vast gets the upper hand with Spitelout Jorgensen? I’m selling that to my dad. You can, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. So, you tell your dad, then I’ll talk to mine.”

“No, we both talk to them at the same time. I’m not going first, Snotlout. Besides, I thought you were this brave warrior.” Hiccup raised an eyebrow.

“You know, you were easier to live with before you grew. You gain a couple of inches, and now you’re a tyrant.” Snotlout looked at him. “Okay, okay, we tell them at the same time.”

“Great. Come on Snotlout, ‘relax, it’ll be fine,’ remember?”

“Shut up, Hiccup.”