Ch. 5 Reflections of the Past

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

That is what he felt when he woke suddenly in the middle of the night. Someone was in his tent uninvited and may intend him harm. Beowulf slowly rolled over on to his side as to not alert the intruder. His eyes opened slowly at first but flew open when he saw the sight before him. On the other side of his tent from where he slept, was a cloaked figure kneeling over the sleeping form of his son.

Beowulf's hand moved to the hilt of the dagger that he always kept under his pillow, his fingers just grazing the pommel. He may not know what this person would do to his son, but God have mercy on them if Wiglaf came to harm, for he would have none. The interloper laid a hand on Wiglaf's cheek and Beowulf gripped the hilt of his dagger.

But instead of harming Wiglaf in some way, the figure merely brush some hair out of his face. The figure then stood, parted the flaps of the tent and left. Beowulf immediately went to Wiglaf's side, checking for wounds. To his relief, he continued to sleep peacefully; his eyes then turned towards where the intruder had left. He could still see their retreating form going down the hill.

He quickly pulled on his boots, retrieved Hrunting from its resting place, and drew it from it's scabbard. He had no time to put on his armor, so his light-gray tunic and dark-blue trousers would have to suffice.

He followed the figure down the hill, using the houses for cover, hoping to keep the element surprise. As he tracked the figure, many thoughts raced through his mind: How did the intruder get into his tent without either him or Wiglaf noticing? What had been their intention? And what had they planned for his son? He put these thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

He rounded the corner of one of the houses and found himself in the village square, his prey lost. At least that is what he believed until the cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight just a few feet from him.

Beowulf narrowed his eyes, leveled Hrunting at the intruder, and asked, "Who are you?"

He received no answer.

"What did you intend for my son?"

Again no reply.

Beowulf's blood began to boil, he wanted answers and he wanted them now. "Answer me!" he shouted. The figure took a few steps forward, unafraid of Hrunting. They lightly pushed the blade aside and removed their hood. All breath left his lungs when he saw that bright red hair and emerald colored eyes, so much like Wiglaf's.

Standing before him was Bria, only daughter of Weohstan, Wiglaf's mother, and Beowulf's wife. And she had been dead for near of two decades. The strength in his fingers left him and Hrunting dropped to the ground without a sound and at last Beowulf knew where he was...

"This is a dream," he said. She smiled softly at him and it made him miss her so much more. "Yes," she said. "And soon you will awake." Beowulf took a deep breath then exhaled, "I almost want to stay." Her smile grew, then she closed the gap between them and placed her hand on his cheek, her touch was so warm. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. Beowulf smiled despite himself. "Wake up, Beowulf," Bria whispered. "Wake up." He didn't want to wake up just yet, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, if only one last time. But it was not to be...

The dream ended and Beowulf woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, sighing heavily. He turned and looked at the empty cot on the other side of the tent, "I should have known," he whispered. He should have realized that it was dream when he saw Wiglaf sleeping in his tent; he and Wiglaf hadn't slept in the same room in years.

He cast aside his blanket and placed his feet on the fur covered floor, his stockings also helping to ward off the chill of both the night and the dream. He put another log on the smoldering fire in the nearby brazier, then stood up and walked to the nearby water basin. He splashed the cool liquid in his face, hoping to quell the touch of sleep for the time being. After drying off, he looked down at his own reflection in the small pool of water and sighed.

When he had married Bria, he never would have believe that this is the way his life would turn out: nearly middle-aged, leading an army on a near foolish endeavor, and only one son to leave a legacy. Though he loved Wiglaf with all his heart, he had wanted more, so much more. He had wanted many sons and just as many daughters, then grand-children, and finally spending his winter years with the woman he loved.

He sighed again and turned to the small altar at the far end of the tent. Upon this altar sat a tome that contained the Holy Gospels and behind that was a wooden Crucifix flanked by two candles.

There were often times where he questioned God's wisdom as to take Bria from him. The priests would tell him that it was her time to take her place in Heaven and that he would one day reunite with her. There were times, though, where he believed that it was his selfishness of wanting more from life that caused her death. And even still, there were those rare times he thought it may have been all those acts that had earned him the title of "Dragon Slayer".

He knew from his friendship with Hygelac that not all dragons were the beasts that most men called them. Were some of those dragons not meant to die and Bria's death was punishment for his actions? He had searched the depths of that tome and as well as the very depths of his soul for answers and had come up empty. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts or he would, perhaps, never be able to get back to sleep.

He splashed more water into his face then dried himself off, as he did, though, he heard the unmistakable sound of dragons flying overhead in quick succession. One he recognized as an Arrow-tail, followed by the barley recognizable sound of a Dark Seeker, then, to his surprise, another Dark Seeker. A sense of dread filled him and he soon found himself pulling on his boots, then running out of his tent, buckling his sword belt around his waist.

::

The three youths and their dragons landed just outside of Hiccup's house. While Hiccup and Astrid landed without much problem, Wiglaf's was a bit rougher. As soon as Hygelac touched the ground, Wiglaf slid off his back and stepped onto the ground, his hand on his knees and his breathing heavy. "Are you alright?" Astrid asked, climbing off Stormfly. Wiglaf waved her off, "I'm fine," he said. "Just never been that high up before."

"I still can't believe you had a Night Fury for this long," Astrid said. "And never attempted to ride him." When Wiglaf had regained his breath, he turned to Astrid. "Its different with Hygelac and I," he said. "I had never wished to be a burden to him." "Is that what you think of me and Toothless?" Hiccup asked, his eyes uncharacteristically hard. Astrid had seen that look before, in the cove when he refused to tell his father about the dragon's nest in order to protect Toothless.

Wiglaf stared back at Hiccup passively. "No," he answered simply. "I can see that Toothless would follow you into the very depths of Hell itself if you asked him to. And I'm sure you would do the same for him." "I would," Hiccup said, nodding. "I would do that for anyone I care about." "Then you and I have more in common than I thought," Wiglaf said.

"What's going on here," a voice behind them asked. They turned and saw Stoick and Beowulf coming down the hill. "Is that a Night Fury?" Stoick asked pointing at Hygelac. "It is," Beowulf answered. "His name is Hygelac."

"But you would probably know him by a different name," Beowulf continued. "You would know him as Grendel." "Grendel?" Stoick asked, turning to Beowulf. "But you said- "I couldn't kill him," Beowulf said. "It wouldn't have been right to, so instead, I took him as a trophy. Before I knew it, Wiglaf and Hygelac had grown close." "I know the feeling," Stoick said with a smile. Beowulf returned the smile before turning back to Wiglaf.

"Sleep has escaped me this night," he said. "Perhaps I shall go to the hall and have a drink or two. I trust you can find accommodations." Wiglaf nodded, then turned to Hiccup and said, "I thank you, Hiccup, son of Stoick, for this 'lesson' in flight. I'll have to show you the same kindness tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Astrid asked. Hiccup was about to speak when Wiglaf spoke first. "At the behest of our fathers, I've agreed to train Hiccup in the ways of combat," he answered. "In exchange he'll teach me about training dragons." Astrid's eyes went wide as she asked, "You're going to teach Hiccup to fight?" "That's what I hope to accomplish," Wiglaf said, his voice conveying his disinterest. "But we'll see what the new dawn brings."

And with that he turned and left, Hygelac in tow. Hiccup and Astrid watched as the young Geat and elder Night Fury walked off into the darkness, just before disappearing from sight Hygelac turned and looked straight at Toothless. Hiccup turned to his dragon just in time to see Toothless perk up at the attention. In the dragon's eyes he could see something, something that looked like hope.

Hope and yearning.

Hiccup thought back to Wiglaf's words: They may even be kin." 'If that was true,' Hiccup wondered. 'How close are they?' "Hiccup," he heard Beowulf call to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Beowulf looking at him softly. "Do not take Wiglaf's indifference as a sign of disdain," he said. "He just doesn't know you well enough."

Hiccup nodded. Beowulf then turned to Stoick and said, "I owe you an apology, Stoick, for the deception in regarding Hygelac but I felt it was necessary to insure the safety of both Hygelac, those who would see him destroyed and those caught in the middle." "I understand the need," Stoick said. "I probably would have done the same if I was in your position."

"I thank you,"Beowulf said, before turning to Hiccup once more, "Goodnight, Young Hiccup," he said with a small bow. "Young Astrid, Chieftain Stoick." He then turned headed up the hill towards the hall. "Alright you two," Stoick said to the remaining teens. "I think you've had enough excitement for one night. Off to bed, the lot of you." "Yes, sir," Astrid said, turning to leave. Before she left she flashed a quick smile Hiccup's way, then went off into the darkness. "That goes for you, too," Stoick said, pointing a finger at Hiccup. "Up to your room."

For once, Hiccup followed his father's orders without any backtalk. It truly had been a trying day, for both Hiccup and Toothless. First an army of thousands shows up on their doorstep, then his father tells him that he will be trained by the son of Beowulf, and on top of all that, he nearly met his end at the talons of an elder Night Fury. As they walked the steps up to the front door, Hiccup could only wonder if Beowulf held anymore secrets...

::

Beowulf climbed the final steps leading to the Great Hall and was just about to push the doors open when he heard someone call to him, "Lord Beowulf." He turned and saw Astrid climbing the same steps. "Young Astrid," Beowulf called to her. "Did your chieftain not send you to bed." "He did," she said when she reached him, shyly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, causing Beowulf smile. "I just need to ask you something." "Ask away," Beowulf said. "Wiglaf said you're a follower of Christ, who was that?"

Beowulf's smile fell.

He had not wish to discuss his beliefs to people, even though he believed wholeheartedly King Hygelac's words of different faiths being respected. But she did ask an innocent question and he did feel obligated to answer her. He pursed his lips for a moment before releasing them, "Let's discuss this inside," he said, pushing the doors open. There were still some people left after the festivities, warriors exchanging stories, some still drinking the night away, and others who decided to bed down in the hall. He lead her to a table and sat down, poured her a cup of yak-milk and himself a mug of mead. "Now you wish to know who Christ is?" Astrid nodded. Beowulf sighed in thought, how could he explain this to someone so young.

"He was a man," Beowulf said. "A man who...'A man who became a god' is what he thought but he couldn't say that, it would probably deter her from wanting to know more. "...A man who," he repeated not knowing what to say. 'A man who created a faith that could earn you a death sentence', 'A man who, in a way, gave his life for those who despised and tortured him'. And then it came to him..

"He was a man," he said. "Who loved the whole world."

They spoke more of this, of Beowulf's beliefs and Astrid found herself becoming quite interested. "I was about the age of six when I became a Christian," said Beowulf. "My father had taken me to pray at Thor's Oak in Germania, to the south." He paused for a moment to take a sip of mead. "On our third day of prayer," he continued. "A Christian priest came before us, carrying an axe. He asked that 'if Thor was as powerful as we said he was, then would he not strike him down if he attempted to cut down his beloved tree?' He then lifted his axe and began to chop down the tree."

"Did Thor strike him down?" Astrid asked. "No," Beowulf said, shaking his head. "My father drew his blade and advanced towards the priest, when he came in striking distance, a great wind came and pushed the tree over. All of us where stunned. My father was the first to kneel before the priest and pledge his service to our new faith. We were among the first to be baptized that day."

"Like Hygelac," concluded Astrid. "Yes," Beowulf said. "But I did not take a different name, nor did my father." "Why is that?" she asked. "King Hygelac had not decree all faiths sacred," he answered. "So we kept our names to avoid conflict."

They talked into the night until when Beowulf went to refill his mug, he saw Astrid had dozed off, her head resting on her forearm. He smiled before setting his mug down on the table, then scooping the young girl into his arms and carried her out of the hall. He brought her into his tent and placed her down onto a cot, knowing that it would be unused. He wrapped a warm blanket around her sleeping form, making sure she was comfortable. He then unbuckled his belt, placed Hrunting with the rest of his armor, removed his boots, then laid down in his own cot, hoping that his sleep would be more peaceful for the rest of the night.

::

Toothless watched the steady rise and fall of Hiccup's chest as he slept. While sleep had come easily to Hiccup, it had eluded him. His father was alive. After all these years of wondering and, at times, searching, he was alive and nothing at all had changed. The feelings from their defeat and subsequent exile still left their marks, both physically and mentally.

He could still smell the cool, mountain air mix with the smell of blood, theirs and that of his pack. They had fought with as much ferocity as they could muster and had made a bold defense. The Man-eaters came swiftly and in strength the likes of which his pack had never seen before but still they fought. For three days and three nights, for their lands and for their future, they fought... and they lost.

They lost.

The pack scattered, his mother, brothers and sisters dead, and his father, shamed and in rage, nearly killed him but relented before true harm could befall him. That was after his father had saved him from the talons of a Man-eater and thus death but saving his life had cost them the battle and their lands. Toothless shook his head, trying to dispel the memories, they only brought him pain. So much time had passed and the pain was still there. It seems his father wasn't the only one that had yet to forget the past.

After their defeat, what remained of their pack had scattered into the wind. Some in the hopes of integrating with other packs or starting new ones of their own. He and his father had chosen the path of solitude, dreaming of neither home nor of pack but of survival alone. But also like his father, he heard the call of the Matriarch and became one of her thralls; only with the aid of Man, were they able to cast off their shackles and end their servitude. Now here they were, reunited and no more closer then when they parted ways.

Could things be like they were before?

Could Toothless redeem himself in his father's eyes?

Honestly he doubted but only time could tell.

::

"Young Astrid," she heard someone call to her in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to behold Beowulf kneeling in front of her in full battle armor. "Lord Beowulf," she said, rising from her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What are you doing in my bedroom?" Beowulf was taken aback by this question, giving her a confused look, before clarifying, "Child," he said. "You are in my command tent."

Suddenly, Astrid was aware that she was in a bed that was not her own and she felt very self-conscious about it. She backpedaled to the corner of the cot, nearly falling off in the process, pulled the blanket up to her chin and her knees to her chest, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. Beowulf couldn't help but smile at her embarrassment before rising, he walked over to one of the chests near the back of the tent and opened it. He pulled out a cloak not unlike Heather's, only instead of reindeer, it was made from the fur of a polar bear. He brought the cloak over towards her and set it on the cot just at her feet.

"There's light snow this morning," he said. "The cloak should help ward off the cold." "Thank you," Astrid said, releasing the the blanket and taking the cloak. She ran her hand through its white fur, feeling how soft and warm it was, from this she could tell that this was a expert piece of craftsman. "I have a task for you," Beowulf said. "If you would, could you go to the Frisian encampment, rouse Wiglaf, and bring him to the Great Hall?" "Um, alright," Astrid said, confused as to why Wiglaf would be there. "He likes to bed down near Heather," Beowulf said, seeing her confusion. "Oh," Astrid said, nodding her understanding. "How will I know which one is the Frisian's?" "Look for the banner with red water lilies on a blue field," he said. "Then you will know."

She nodded before finally casting aside the blanket, then stood up, and threw the cloak around her shoulders. She fumbled with the brooch, though, and soon became flustered. 'Come on,' she thought to herself. 'You're making a fool of yourself.' Suddenly, the hands of Beowulf came into view, her hands where moved aside and she watch as he nimbly secured the two pieces of fur together before they retreated from her sight. "Thank you," she whispered sullenly, her eyes downcast and her cheeks burning. Beowulf placed his hand underneath her chin and tilted her head up to face him. She looked at him, a soft smile on his lips, "It is I who should thank you for this, Young Astrid," Beowulf said. "Not only for extending the hand of friendship to Wiglaf and I, as well what you did for Heather."

"Last night," he continued. "She told me how you risked your own life to help rescue her family, which, in turn, means you helped rescue my family and for that, you will have my undying gratitude." "To be fair," Astrid said with a smile. "I didn't exactly believe that her parents were in danger at first." Beowulf chuckled, "Yes," he said. "She told me that as well." He turned away from her and went to retrieve Hrunting and Astrid turned to go find Wiglaf. She parted the flaps of the tent to exit but was stopped by Beowulf calling to her. "If you ever wish to learn more about my beliefs," he said as she turned to face him once more. "All you need is to ask." "Thank you, Lord Beowulf," she said before leaving. Beowulf smiled, then turned to the altar. He looked at the Crucifix, wrapped his hand around the piece of cloth under his vambrace, closed his eyes, then sighed. "In your wisdom," he said. "Please find a way to spare her."

::

Hiccup awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking furiously on the front door. He rolled over to see if Toothless was awake, but instead found his bed empty. 'Maybe he's on the roof...' Hiccup thought as he climbed out of bed. He was just putting on his prosthetic when his door burst open, causing him to nearly fall over in surprise. "Hiccup!" he turned to see Astrid standing in the doorway, an apprehensive look on her face. "Astrid?" Hiccup asked. "What's wrong-wait, where did you get that cloak?" he asked, noticing her new attire. "No time!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm just as he finished putting on his boot. She dragged him down the stairs and out the front door.

As soon as he was outside, he saw that she was leading him to crowd of people further down the hill. Pushing their way through the crowd, a knot of uneasiness began to form in his stomach. When they reached the center, the uneasiness quickly turned into panic as he saw a certain dragon napping in a bed of smoldering coals. Hygelac slept soundly despite the crowd's loud whispering, his whiskers moving back and forth at the rhythm of his breathing. On the other side of the circle the crowd began to part and suddenly Toothless appeared behind the elder Night Fury, wearing a look of worry that Hiccup could only assumed mirrored his own.

"Alright, alright," Gobber said, emerging from the crowd. "You people are acting as if you've never seen a Night Fury before." He then turned to the sleeping dragon and began to prod it with his maul-hand. "C'mon Toothless, time to wake up." Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless all stared at Gobber in horror before Hiccup broke the silence.

"Gobber!" he hissed. "No! Stop!" Gobber stopped his prodding, turned to Hiccup, and gave him a quizzical look, "What?" he asked with a shrug. Suddenly a loud crack echoed through the air as Hygelac's tale shot forward like a whip, wrapped itself around Gobber's remaining leg, and hoisted him into the air. Gobber suddenly found himself upside and staring into the eyes of an enraged Night Furry, angered that its rest had been disturbed. Holding his helmet in his good hand and now realizing that this was not Toothless.

"Well," Gobber said with a shrug, "Always knew I'd go out like this." Hygelac's lips curled into a snarl before he reared his head back. Everyone there knew what this meant and saw Gobber as a goner. Before Hiccup, Astrid, or even Toothless could act, another voice rang out, causing the dragon to halt. "Hygelac!" it shouted. All turned to see Beowulf, a hard look in his eyes; he made his way to the pair, the crowd giving him a wide berth. When he reached the center, he pointed to the ground and in a commanding voice said, "Down."

Hygelac snarled at the Geat, conveying his refusal. Hiccup could only watch in silent shock as these two legends stared each other down and he half-expected their conflict begin anew. "Hygelac," Beowulf commanded again. "Down."

The dragon spat an ember of fire before angrily tossing Gobber away like some aggravating toy. He sailed through the air before, fortunately, landing on a pile of hay. "That was close," he said, shaking off the hay, before realizing he was sitting on a pitchfork. Gobber launched into the air with yelp before running down the hill in pain, the pitchfork still embedded in his flesh.

Under normal circumstances, Hiccup and Astrid would find this humorous if not for the seriousness of the situation. Soon the crowd began to disperse, feeling it wise to leave the dragon in peace, leaving only Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless, Hygelac, and Beowulf. The older man shook his head at the dragon before crossing his arms and saying, "If this was Skalunda, you would have just found somewhere else to sleep. Instead you had to make a spectacle out of it." Hygelac growled at Beowulf, his irritation waning but still potent. The dragon may have lost everything an age ago but he had never lost his sense of pride, even after Beowulf had bested him in combat.

Beowulf's features then softened and he sighed, "If this was Skalunda," he said. "Then you would not be treated as a spectacle and instead left in peace." Beowulf then knelt before the dragon and placed a comforting hand atop his head. "I'm sorry old friend." Hygelac hummed then turned his gaze away but did not pull away from the hand. Beowulf must have seen this as a sign of apology, as the Geat smiled then nodded at the dragon. For a the briefest of moments, the world went still and only these two figures occupied it.

Once enemies, now friends who stand together as comrades-in-arms.

With this campaign they will wipe away their shame and herald the dawn onto a new world. Beowulf then released a deep breath before standing to his full height, while Hygelac spread his wings and took flight. The group watched the dragon sore for a time before they began to disperse; Astrid traveling down the slope to go find Wiglaf with Hiccup and Toothless in tow. Beowulf, on the other hand, wrapped his cape around his form to ward off the cold, before heading uphill to the Great Hall.

::

Breakfast in the Frisian camp (as well other camps on the island) had consisted of a bowl of porridge and a piece of flat bread. Being a staple food for many of the tribes, the chieftains decided it would be best to use their grain to feed their troops since this was the first time that the entire army had been together since leaving Geatland. Wiglaf hadn't complained though, he had eaten worse and suspected that he would again in the near future, so he was content to walk beside Heather.

Occasionally, his fingers would graze the back of her hand before teasingly pulling his hand back beneath his cloak. Finally having enough of his game, Heather quickly snatched Wiglaf's hand in a tight grip; the act brought a smile to both their lips. "I was hoping you'd do that," Wiglaf said. "Then why not just take my hand?" Heather asked. Wiglaf turned to her, his pure smile that he saved only for shined brightly, "Because this was more fun."

Heather smiled back before giving him a playful jab in the side, causing Wiglaf to chuckle lightly. Suddenly a black shape descended to the ground and landed in front of the pair; as his feet touched the ground, Hygelac immediately ran to the pair, or more specifically Heather, and began to nuzzle into her chest. "I think he missed you," Wiglaf said. "And I've missed him," replied Heather.

Suddenly her faced turned serious, "Wait," she said. "If he's here does that mean that Hiccup-" "He knows," Wiglaf finished. "Met him last night after he chased him and his dragon all around the isle." Heather sighed, then held up Hygelac's head up so she could look into his eyes, "You need to learn to play nice with other dragons," she said. Hygelac backed away from the girl and spat another ember to convey his unwillingness to change.

"He's a rogue," Wiglaf said. "Likely been one for his entire life. I doubt he'll change anytime soon." "Perhaps he just needs the proper motivation," a voice said from behind them. The trio turned and saw Astrid, Hiccup, and Toothless, coming down the hill to meet them. "...And you would be the one to motivate him?" Wiglaf asked. Astrid smirked, "I think I could." "Perhaps..." Wiglaf said with a smirk. Astrid nodded back before getting to the task at hand, "Your father sent me to bring to the Great Hall." Wiglaf nodded, "He's summoning the council," he said before turning to Hiccup. "You and I must attend." "Me?" Hiccup asked. Wiglaf nodded, "I'm sure my father intends to bring yours into our fold. Therefore you should attend to understand our reasons for being on this expedition." Hiccup then turned to Astrid and said, "I guess I'll see you later."

"...At your Dragon Academy," Wiglaf added. "Remember I am to educate in the ways of combat on this day." "Right," Hiccup said, shrugging his shoulders sullenly. "I forgot." Astrid placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, "You'll do fine." "That is my hope," Wiglaf said, walking up the hill past both of them, Hygelac in tow. Before he disappeared out of sight, he turned back to Heather and said, "I hope to find you there as well."

"Of course," she said with a smile. He smiled back and nodded his thanks before continuing on with Hygelac in tow. Hiccup sighed before following after him with Toothless right behind him. He spared one last glance at Astrid, who gave him a sullen wave. He returned the wave with as much enthusiasm before heading up the hill.