2

It had been a long day, and a short one. In all honesty Stoick was numb as he walked slowly up the stairs to his house. There was no point in going there but the sun had set an hour ago and Gobber had insisted he go home to get some rest. He didn't remember what he had done all day, regular clean up after a raid most likely, but everything was a jumbled mess. Stoick opened the door to the sound of flustered women and a crying baby. Just yesterday it had been his wife singing and the baby laughing. Stoick crossed the room and sank into his chair, not looking at the women on the far side of the house. They tried to give Stoick his space; quiet the baby and themselves but he was able to catch snatches of their conversation,

"Hasn't eaten all day," Well, neither had Stoick.

"Someone will have to take him,"

He poked at the fire, sending sparks up.

"It would disrupt my little one,"

Stoick reached to the side and threw another log on the fire. He watched the fire lick at it, starting with the bark, snapping as it burned the log.

"Always was weak,"

Stoick put the poker down, his eyebrows drawn low over his eyes.

"Could remarry, have more children."

That was enough. His son might be small but he was not weak. Stoick got up from his chair, marched over to Thistleface, and held out his arms for the baby. Hiccup stopped crying to see who held him as he was passed over. The women prepared themselves for him to start up again but the quiet continued. Hiccup reached for his father's beard. Watching his father's eyes he put the hair in his mouth. Stoick gently took it out and held his hand out for whatever they were trying to feed his son. A hollowed out drinking horn was handed to him. It had a leather covering on one end with a small hole in it for the goat's milk in the horn to come out.

"Try and get him to take the leather," Thistleface said, "None of us have been able to and we've been trying all day."

Stoick didn't say a word, he just held the horn to Hiccup's mouth. The baby turned his head and started whimpering, but a drop of milk was on his lip. He quieted again when he tasted it. Opening his eyes to look up at Stoick, Hiccup took the leather when it was held to his mouth. He didn't like it, Stoick could tell by how he squirmed. He drank it eagerly, though, revealing how hungry he was. The women relaxed and chatted, relieved. Stoick tuned them out. Hiccup clutched at Stoick's hand as he ate; making little sounds and watching his father's eyes.

He had Valka's nose, Stoick thought as he studied the baby's face, and her eyes. Blue eyes. Valka had said they wouldn't stay that way; she had sworn they were turning. That they were only baby blue, but right now they were like hers. A little shot through with green but the blue was still there. Gradually they closed as Hiccup fell asleep still suckling slowly and grasping Stoick's finger. Stoick found it odd that he missed having them open, looking at him. He wasn't sure how he would manage, but Hiccup was his and Valka's. No one else would raise him. The chattering hens currently in his house could go home and leave him, and his baby, in peace.