Gobber's intuition would allow him no rest.
No matter how hard he tried to push away the thoughts, he couldn't shake the idea that something was deeply wrong about the Night Fury's escape. He needed to uncover the truth, if just for the peace of mind that he hoped answers would provide.
He was getting nowhere trying to solve the mystery alone, so he'd decided it was high time to bring in his dear friend Stoick. Though the chief had seemed uninterested in the missing dragon, Gobber reckoned he'd be willing to humor him with a little insistence.
He knocked on the man's front door, getting no answer. A quick tug of the handle revealed that it was latched shut.
Odd. Stoick rarely ever secured his home.
Gobber shrugged, undeterred by the development. Stoick had insisted that he was welcome any time, so he'd just let himself in through the back door and wait out the man's return. That door didn't latch properly, he knew that better than anyone. Stoick had asked him to fix it on several occasions, but the blacksmith had never gotten around to repairing it.
With the right amount of pressure and a jiggle of the knob, he was able to pop it open.
"Stoick? You home?" He called, letting himself into the house. He lumbered over to the main hall, shuffling a stack of papers in his hands. He'd detailed all his findings so that he could properly explain each of the pieces that didn't add up.
There was no answer.
"Hmmm," huffed Gobber, setting his notes down on the table. The sun had risen over an hour ago, surely the chief wasn't still sleeping?
He shook his head, dismissing the idea as quickly as it had come. It was far more likely that the man had already gone to make his morning rounds.
Gobber had hoped to have this conversation privately, aiming to catch his friend before he made his way to town for the day, but perhaps he'd just missed him. It was a pity – now he'd have to risk being overheard when he brought up his suspicions.
He wasn't keen on raising panic amongst his peers, but the situation needed to be investigated sooner rather than later. If someone had helped the dragon escape, they had a traitor in their midst. If the dragon had escaped on its own, he wanted to develop a defense plan in case it came back for vengeance.
Creeeeak.
The wood upstairs groaned, a sure sign of movement above.
Gobber raised his eyebrows at the sound. The only room above was the one that had belonged to Hiccup, and he was fairly certain it had been sealed off since the boy's untimely demise.
His chest tightened as he considered it. Stoick could very well treat the space in the same way that he treated the back room of the forge. It could have become a safe space where his friend grieved his son's passing and went to feel closer to him once more.
With a sigh, Gobber made for the stairs. If that was the case, he doubted his friend would welcome the intrusion. However, he knew better than anyone how much it hurt to grieve alone. Offering comfort and company was the right thing to do.
When he made it to the top of the landing, he opened his mouth to greet his friend. The sight he found made him snap his jaw shut immediately, words dying in his throat.
A Night Fury – no, the Night Fury – was sprawled out on its back in the space, nestled between a variety of furs like a cat amidst a mound of bedding.
Gobber pinched himself, momentarily fearing he'd gone mad obsessing over the beast. He'd barely slept, perhaps his fixation on the escape was making him see things? Yet, the sharp pain was sign enough that he wasn't imagining the dragon's presence.
What was this dangerous creature doing sleeping in the chief's home?
As quietly as he could, Gobber twisted off his prosthetic hook, clipping it onto his belt. He removed the small axe head sheathed beside it, clicking the weapon into place with grim determination. His best chance at slaying the beast was to catch it unawares, so he would have to be cautious in how he approached it.
He eyed the furs, wondering if they would be enough to muffle the sound of his peg leg against the floorboards. There was no room for miscalculation here.
As he started towards the dragon, he heard a loud movement below. "Hiccup!" Stoick yelled, "Are you still up? I brought breakfast."
Gobber flinched at the loud voice, panic welling up in his chest. It was only after a moment that the chief's words registered, making him wonder if perhaps it was the chief who'd gone mad.
He was talking to Hiccup?
The sound was enough to wake the Night Fury. It moaned, rolling over onto its stomach in a fluid motion. Shaking out its wings, the dragon rose to its feet. Its back was to Gobber, and the man knew he now had very little time to strike before the beast would catch sight of him.
Either he struck down the dragon now, or he risked giving it a chance to strike him down.
He stepped forward…
…right onto the Fury's tail.
The dragon hissed, yanking the tail out from under Gobber's peg leg. It spun around, quick as lightning, eyes widening as it beheld him.
Oh no.
There was a loud sound from below, like something heavy had been dropped on the floor, followed by the sound of racing feet on the stairs.
Stoick entered the room in a flurry of movement, looking back and forth between the blacksmith to the snarling dragon in the corner.
"Gobber!" The chief addressed him, steel in his voice. "What are you – no! Put your weapon down now!"
Had he heard that right?
"Are ye mad?" He asked, gesturing wildly at the large reptile across from them.
The dragon hunched lower to the ground, curling up on itself. It looked as if it were trying to make itself smaller, pulling all its limbs in tight. All the while, its green eyes remained locked on him.
"Now, Gobber," commanded the chief, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Then, to his surprise, Stoick addressed the dragon. "It's okay," he reassured in a gentle voice. He turned back to Gobber with a pointed look, "There will be no bloodshed in my house."
What in Hel was he witnessing?
The dragon had been watching his expression, narrowing its eyes at something he saw. It made a strange warbling noise at Stoick, then jerked its head meaningfully in Gobber's direction.
Was it trying to communicate?
Stoick seemed to think so, regarding it cautiously. At least that wariness seemed sensible to Gobber. One must never let their guard down around a dragon.
"You…wish for me to tell him?" Stoick asked, sounding like he doubted the words.
To Gobber's surprise, the Night Fury gave a distinct nod.
"Everything?"
Another nod.
"You're sure."
Again.
"Very well," said Stoick with a sigh, placing a heavy hand on Gobber's shoulder. "Gobber, this is no ordinary dragon."
The blacksmith scoffed, taking a step back. "Yeah, I kno' tha'. It's a bloody Night Fury!"
"No," corrected Stoick. He paused, shaking his head. "Well yes, it is a Night Fury, but that's not what I'm getting at."
Gobber continued to edge towards the door. If he could make it a few more steps, perhaps he could flee and find reinforcements. The chief appeared to be having some sort of break, keeping a deadly dragon in his home like some sort of macabre pet.
Stoick narrowed his eyes at the movement, hurrying to shut the door. He blocked it, sealing the duo in the small bedroom with the Night Fury.
"Gobber," pleaded Stoick, eyes full of emotion. "It's Hiccup."
"Wha'? You keepin' this thing prisoner up here in 'is memory or somethin'? Tryin' to honor 'im by killin' a dragon in his old room? Tha' boy wouldn't 'ave approved of this nonsense and ye know it!"
Stoick's frustration was growing, if the red flush creeping up his neck was any indication. "The dragon is Hiccup."
The Night Fury chirped, bobbing its head up and down in agreement.
Stoick has officially lost his mind, thought Gobber, shaking his head. Though, considering he was recognizing the creature's motions as nods, perhaps he wasn't far behind.
"I know it sounds impossible," the chief continued, "I doubted it myself, but it's true. It's a curse, Gobber. Not unlike many of the stories the elders have passed on to the tribe, and no less serious. You'll stay until sundown and then you'll see."
Sundown? It was barely after sunrise.
"I don' believe you," he said outright, crossing his arms. "And I sure as Hel will not spendin' a whole day trapped in 'ere with a Night Fury."
The dragon exhaled loudly through its nose, dispelling a ring of smoke. It seemed almost as frustrated as Gobber felt.
"You will," said Stoick, voice solemn. "Best get comfortable."
The day passed slowly, tensions high between the inhabitants of the room. Stoick had confiscated Gobber's prosthetics early on, leaving the man feeling vulnerable in the cramped loft.
To his surprise, the dragon never made any move to attack. Instead, it continued to watch him with eyes that seemed almost sorrowful. He'd been quick to dismiss that possibility, knowing the beast was likely trying to manipulate him into letting his guard down.
Then of all things – the dragon proceeded to nap! It curled up in a tight ball on the opposite end of the room, covering its face with its tail fins. Gobber was mildly offended, as it was clear by the action that the creature had dismissed him as a threat.
All the while, Stoick continued to insist that the Night Fury was his son, plagued with some sort of draconic curse. There were elements to the strange story he wove that Gobber believed – his apprentice would absolutely have the hubris to try to shoot down a legendary dragon with an untested contraption – but the rest seemed far less likely.
Gobber blamed himself for Stoick's delusions. He'd failed to check in on his friend over the years, never wanting to bring up the lost boy for the sake of his own feelings of loss. Now, he wished he'd been an outlet for the chief to work through his grief. Perhaps he could have seen the signs and stopped this fantasy before it took root.
I've failed him.
He eyed the setting sun with apprehension. On the one hand, he'd been assured he'd be able to leave once it had set. On the other, he feared how his friend would spiral when the dragon remained unchanged.
As the last rays slipped from view, he regarded the waking creature with a knowing look. Surely, now it would attack?
Without warning, fire erupted from the dragon, swallowing it from view. It smoldered for a moment, quickly clearing away to reveal a young man with a shaky smile. Though now older and having grown into his lanky features, it was unmistakably the face of his old apprentice.
"Uh, hi, Gobber."