Chapter Thirty: Chief Astrid

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The Title I dreamed of as a child was one I hated now

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The Title I dreamed of as a child was one I hated now.

Only twenty four hours after Hiccup's marooning I was ceremonially acknowledged as acting leader of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. Traditionally it involves freeing a dove and yoking a yak to a plow (two if the new Chief is married), but we made do with Chicken and fellow barnyard fowl... Pheonix and George, according to Flitt.

I refused to believe that a Skullion could get the better of my husband. I refused to believe we would never see our home again, and I refused slavery as the humiliating fate of our proud people. Hiccup was alive but if he couldn't get to us, then it was up to us to break our chains and come to him.

Being caged is no good to anyone from Berk- dragon or human. Tempers flared, personalities clashed. It was in its own way amusing to see how each person dealt with the situation. Snotlout worked hard to keep his temper in check but time over half an hour in the same room as his dad is like to drive anyone mad. The Twins... kinda enjoyed it. For once in their lives they had a captive audience and they abused that power to no end. Fishlegs got paranoid, Gobber got to singing, and Gothi she... um... kept writing into the wood the same words with her eyes slowly moving different directions. She did it so long that we eventually could read what she wrote; "All wait and no play makes Gothi a dull girl"

Just a little terrifying.

But no one was as hard to watch as Valka. When I asked, she said she believed Hiccup was still alive and I tried my hardest to keep that hope alive in her. But the further we sailed, the longer we were trapped in here the less she engaged, the less she talked. Towards the end of our voyage she spent most of her waking hours pacing, watching every flicker of daylight that snuck into the hull and spitting terrible insults at the guards whenever they came near.

Then there was Epp. 

As far as we could surmise, he was lost at sea in a small boat when captured by the Romans. When we told him we were Berkians he about lost his mind, repeating the words Berk, Chief and Dragon over and over again. Some thought he might have had key information about the attack, but I had a sneaking suspicion that we were just dealing with a big fan. Even with our language barrier I could tell Epp was the kind of person that would drive me up the wall. He wouldn't stop talking even though he knew we couldn't understand him; it was like a force of habit. He was loud, egotistical and inclined to act before thinking.

"Alas! Poor Yorik! A man who did bring me such transport in youth. Here he is, in all the glory of death."

Not having any skulls for props Tuffnut took Sven by the head, pretending to hold him up.

"Agh." Spitelout snorted from among the crowd. He looked down his nose at his son who was yawning. "I see SOMEONE forgot to scrub behind their ears. Kind of hard to miss in fact, when I have to be standing this close to 'em."

"Get off my case dad!" Snotlout snapped. "Nobody washes behind their ears!"

Conflicting reports of washing and not washing divided the people and in seconds a brawl broke out.

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