In the wake of a tragedy, sometimes it can be almost unnerving how fast people tended to move on. But to those the tragedy affected the most, moving on seemed to be an impossible feat. Finn was a prime example. For weeks, he shut himself in his room, not even coming down for meals. On the rare occasions he did come downstairs, he was sullen and moody. But Hiccup and Astrid couldn't figure out what to do with him and anything they tried only seemed to make it worse.

Mara was over periodically to make sure Finn wasn't wasting away completely. But soon her sights were set on someone else entirely.

"Hiccup," she said firmly as she descended the staircase yet again, "if you don't start taking care of yourself, you'll be the next to go."

"What?" Hiccup exclaimed, nearly knocking over his bowl of porridge in surprise.

"You heard me." the healer crossed her arms and fixed him with a steel gray gaze that would make a stronger man than him run away in fear. "You haven't slept at all since Benen died, have you?"

"Well... yeah, of course I-"

"No." Astrid interrupted impatiently. "He's dozed off here and there but he won't relax."

Hiccup gave his wife an exasperated gaze made only more pathetic by the dark circles under his eyes. Mara cleared her throat loudly so that he would turn back to her.

"Right then," she said in a brisk voice, "you need to get to bed. I'm sure your wife can handle your duties for the day."

"Mara-"

"No arguments! I won't have you dropping dead from exhaustion. There's been enough tragedy." Mara insisted. "Go upstairs, draw the curtains, and get some sleep."

Astrid almost smiled at the chastised look on her husband's face as he obeyed the healer's orders. He looked like a child being punished for something. Mara, satisfied that the chief had done what she'd told him, turned to the Haddock matriarch with a frown.

"As for Finn, he needs to eat more." she said in a slightly softer voice. "He's already started losing weight."

"I've tried." Astrid sighed deeply, placing her head in her hands. "I take food up to him three times a day but he just nibbles at it no matter what I say."

"Grief is a difficult process." Mara put on her coat as she spoke. "And goodness knows he's going to need some more time. But he needs to keep up his strength."

"I know." Astrid mumbled. "But with him and Hiccup and Adri never being at home..."

Mara paused as she was adjusting her coat. Slowly, she sauntered forward and sat down next to the frazzled woman, who still didn't look up.

"I know things are difficult now." she said softly. "But you'll get through it. You always do." she smiled slightly at the words she knew were probably empty. "I know that's what everyone says. But I've watched you and Hiccup weather storm after storm. This one really is no different."

"I know." Astrid sniffled and did her best not to cry. There had been enough crying in the Haddock house over the last few weeks. "Easier said than done."

"I know." Mara replied, patting the woman on the arm. "But if you need someone to talk to, my door's always open."

"Thank you." Astrid looked up and gave her a small smile. "I really appreciate your patience."

"It's all part of the job." Mara gave her one last consoling pat on the arm before straightening up. "Now don't let Hiccup go to work today and make sure he sleeps until he starts to look almost human again." Astrid chuckled appreciatively at this. "And please don't let Finn lose any more weight. He'll waste away into nothing if he doesn't start eating properly."

Astrid nodded and watched as Mara let herself out, braving the freezing cold outside and shutting the door behind her rather forcefully. In the silence that followed, the former Hofferson thought about everything her family had gone through in the last decade. First with Adrianna's kidnapping, then Stoick's sudden death, then the duel that nearly killed her husband, then her own marital issues, then Finn's enslavement... life hadn't been easy for the family and she had a strong feeling that the next decade would bring with it many more problems to face and storms to endure. But as she mulled it over, she realized that she had matured a little bit with each difficulty her family had faced. She had learned to protect her children at all costs when her daughter had been taken. She had learned to cherish every moment she had with her family when her husband nearly died at Dagur's hand. She had learned patience with different learning styles through her struggles with Adrianna and patience with different coping mechanisms through her struggles with Hiccup. And, of course, she had learned to pay closer attention to the problems plaguing her young ones when Finn had run away and nearly been lost to them forever. Each new challenge brought with it something to be learned. Astrid knew this would be no different. But as she sat in the complete silence of her home, knowing full well that her daughter wouldn't be home for hours and her boys were both probably lying down and trying not to allow their dark thoughts to consume them, she wasn't sure what to do next.

Xxx

Adrianna had never spent so much time at the library. Matilda had been rather pleased for the first few days before concern for the girl's well-being began to take over. The Haddock girl hardly ever spoke at all in her long hours of reading. She devoured one book after another until Matilda was beginning to think that she would run out of reading material. In fact, the only times Adrianna wasn't in the corner reading were for meals or when she was doing the random jobs she got around town watching other people's children while they did errands or got some much needed time alone with their spouses. The girl had always been a quiet presence in the library but never to this extent.

"Adrianna," Matilda said softly after a few weeks of this behavior, "if you need to talk to someone, you know I'm happy to listen."

"Why would I need to talk to someone?" Adrianna asked, not looking up from her book.

"It's just... you've been here every day for weeks and I thought-"

"I'm fine." the girl interrupted. "Really."

Lily, who was snoozing just behind her, gave Matilda a sad sort of coo that seemed to contradict her human's words. Matilda sighed and, deciding that Adrianna was old enough to make these sort of decisions herself, walked to the other end of the library to reorganize one of the shelves.

Adrianna, on the other hand, was now thoroughly distracted from her reading. The truth was that she did need to talk to someone but Matilda, despite her efforts, simply wasn't the right person. She missed Erick so badly, she felt a constant ache in the pit of her stomach. But he still wouldn't speak to her and, honestly, she didn't blame him. So who could she talk to? Wasn't there one person her age who would be willing to listen to what she had to...

The answer came to her so quickly, she almost dropped her book. Of course! How had she forgotten? Well, he might not be interested in her issues with Erick but at least he was upbeat and could make her smile. That had to count for something, right?

The Haddock girl wasted no time in hurrying over to a desk and pulling out a few sheets of parchment and a piece of charcoal. It had been a long time since she had written a letter to anyone outside of Berk but she knew Nyssa would have no trouble finding her intended recipient. After pausing a moment with her charcoal over the parchment, Adrianna began to write.

Xxx

Mara had been right. She was always right. Hiccup awoke from his slumber feeling much better than he had in weeks. He rubbed his eyes, which felt much less baggy than before, and stretched before practically hopping out of bed to begin the day. Astrid, who was still half asleep beside him, moaned and rolled over, falling back to sleep instantly.

Feeling like he might as well continue in this pattern of taking care of himself, Hiccup dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and left for work. As he walked through town, he thought about his village and just how much rebuilding was still left. The physical projects were nearly finished; a few minor structures still needed some work but they could wait. But the forlorn expressions on some of his people's faces weren't easy to ignore. Hiccup had a feeling that he'd be doing a lot of comforting in the months to come. It was enough to make him wish his father were still around. Not that Stoick was very good at anything involving feelings but the responsibility was enormous and Hiccup, despite his age, still felt like a kid when things like this happened. He felt like there was nothing he could do to make it better, no matter how much he wished there were. Stoick had made this look so easy...

It was as Hiccup was mulling over his childhood and watching his father do his chiefly duties that he nearly ran headlong into a very exhausted looking Gobber.

"Watch where you're going!" Gobber exclaimed grumpily . "Nearly impaled you! You're lucky I hadn't sharpened this yet!" he held up a sword.

"Sorry." Hiccup held up his hands apologetically. "You okay? You look... frazzled."

"Caught on, have you?" Gobber smiled and shook his head. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I've been falling behind. Not as young as I used to be."

"Oh? Do you need some help?" Hiccup offered, falling in step with his former mentor on the way to the forge.

"I always need help. Been doing okay since you left but these old muscles are starting to slow down. Can't do as much in a day as I used to." Gobber sighed.

"Sounds like you need an apprentice." Hiccup remarked. He suddenly stopped and stood rigid to the spot, his mouth slightly agape. And then his face broke into a smile. "Finn!"

"You really are losing it." Gobber chortled. "I'm Gobber, remember?"

"No, no, Finn! My son!"

"Yes, I am familiar with the lad."

"No, I mean Finn could be your apprentice!" Hiccup slapped a hand to his forehead, instantly regretting this action when a stinging sensation exploded in his palm. "Gobber please, he needs something to do. We can't stand him... walking around aimlessly and staring at the walls anymore. He needs something to do that will help him... I don't know, help him with something. Please Gobber-"

"Hiccup," Gobber placed his remaining hand on his former apprentice's shoulder, "I've needed an apprentice for a good, long time now. Of course, if he's willing..."

"I'll ask him as soon as I can." Hiccup sighed in relief. "This will be good for him. Make some money, do some work, he's always happiest when he's got something to do."

"I'd think he'd do just fine. Hey, where are you going?" Gobber called after Hiccup's retreating back.

"The sooner I get him out of the house the better!" Hiccup called. "Thanks, Gobber!"

Gobber stared open mouthed at his friend until he had disappeared. "Anytime." he remarked wryly before turning back to the forge.

Hiccup raced up the hill to his house, feeling a burst of energy that felt almost foreign to him. He forced himself to slow down so he didn't throw the door off its hinges. He made his way to the stairs, excited to give Finn the news-

He stopped. The chief held his hands out in a calming motion, willing himself to relax. Finn didn't need him barging in and rambling about something he probably wouldn't care about. Just like everything in the past few weeks, he needed to handle this delicately.

Hiccup resumed his trek up the stairs and walked to Finn's door. As usual, there was complete silence on the other side. Sadness crept back into his heart, but his determination to help his son won out. He wouldn't let this opportunity slip by because he was afraid of rejection.

Softly rapping his knuckles against the door, he called, "Finn? Can I come in?" He waited two breaths before opening the door and carefully stepping inside.

The bedroom was cluttered with clothing and random mementos from his son's various adventures. Finn sat in the far corner, his knees level to his chest and arms resting on them loosely. Finn continued to stare at the ceiling as if his father wasn't standing four feet away. The occasional blink was his only form of movement.

"Hey buddy," Hiccup tried, glancing at another plate of food sitting untouched on the desk. "I uh... I saw Helga and some of the other kids hanging out earlier. They wanted me to tell you that they miss you."

Finn made no attempts to move or respond. In fact, Hiccup wasn't sure if he'd even been heard. He remembered when they'd rescued Adrianna from Trista and when she didn't run into his arms like he'd hoped and assumed, finally he couldn't handle the stress any longer. He couldn't remember shutting down; that time was just an empty blur. Now, seeing his son in a similar state broke his heart and he wanted more than anything to break his stubborn will.

"Finn." Hiccup crouched in front of his son and looked him straight in the face. "Come on buddy, please look at me. Just... give me something so I know you're still there."

Nothing. Not even a flinch. Hiccup looked down at the floor, trying to decide what he should do. From the day he could crawl, Finn had always been active. Never before had he been this still for so long. He vaguely wondered if he should just hug his boy, maybe he'd snap out of it with physical contact... but he didn't want to lose any teeth. Finn could pack a mean reflexive punch whether he meant to or not.

He was tired of trying and getting no results. He was tired of failed attempts to get through to him, just to turn around and leave the room to try again later. It was a repetitive cycle and it was killing everyone. Even Adrianna seemed to be silently suffering with the house being so quiet. Everyone needed Finn's extra noise—it was a familial comfort, like the step-thunk of his mismatched legs.

"I got you a job." Hiccup broke the silence again, glancing back up at Finn. His heart leaped when he saw a flicker of confusion on Finn's face: a short jerk of his eyebrows and downturn of his mouth, then he stilled again. Hiccup pressed on, "Gobber said he could use an apprentice and we both think you'd be great at it. I mean, if a shrimp like me can benefit from working there then I can only imagine how much good it could do you. Right?"

Finn began to look more confused by the second. His eyes moved slowly across the ceiling and he still made no moves to speak, but his father could see the gears turning in his head. "You can start whenever you feel ready. It's up to you. But I think... I think it would be great." Having said that, Hiccup waited for the cricket in the room to chirp. Finally he sighed and gave his son a small mile. "I love you, Finn. Things are going to get better. You'll see."

With that he stood, fought the urge to ruffle his son's hair, and turned toward the door. A quick glance at Finn as the door swung closed showed him still seated motionless in the corner. The door clicked shut and he sighed, hoping that he'd done something right.

As the door shut, Finn raised his head up from leaning against the wall. His neck groaned in protest but he ignored the pain. He began to notice all the little aches and pains in his body, particularly his back and rear end from sitting on the hard floor for so long. He let his arms flop to the floor beside him. Blinking slowly, he tried to process his father's words.

What had he said? He hadn't really heard most of it; it had sounded garbled and far away. But one word caught his attention, and curse his curiosity: job. His father had gotten him a job? At... the forge. With Gobber. The old guy was probably getting too senile to handle heavy weaponry anymore. He almost snorted. The old man would draw and quarter him with a scythe if he ever spoke that thought aloud.

But a job. That was good wasn't it? He could make some money, hang out with Helga and- and what?

Finn fought the urge to throw something. But there was nothing on hand and he'd have to yank a boot off before launching it at the door. Nah; too much work.

Got a job. Psh.

With a sharp exhale, Finn pulled himself to his knees and dragged his pillow from underneath his bed. He buried his face and didn't have a care in the world that his back was twisted at an awkward angle.

A sharp slam from somewhere in the house shook Finn awake. He heard a mumbled apology from his sister as she walked down the stairs. He groaned into his pillow, annoyed that his sister's room had the most drafts so occasionally her door would slam shut. Despite sleeping on the floor, he felt surprisingly rested. His heart still ached, but he felt more awake than he had in weeks.

He sat up and looked around his bedroom: clothes, weapons, and other random things were strewn everywhere. He wasn't typically a neat person, but he liked some semblance of order so he knew where things were. Suddenly he had the urge to clean.

Within ten minutes he straightened his room to near perfection. He was just throwing his clothes in the hamper when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see...

His mirror. It wasn't very big and sat leaned against the wall on top of his dresser. The boy staring back at him looked very unhealthy—he'd lost some weight recently, his long, fiery red hair desperately needed a wash and a cut, his freckled skin was pale and clammy. He reached a hand up to touch his face and he nearly gasped. He hadn't looked this terrible since-

Finn gulped. Since Maero.

Painful images flooded his mind, tempting him to succumb to the pain once more but he stamped them down. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before glaring at himself in the mirror. This was ridiculous—he needed to get a grip on... something. He couldn't waste away in here until Ragnarok. He had to do something. But he didn't feel up to hanging out with people. Not... not yet.

"The forge." Finn said aloud. He frowned at how weak his voice sounded from disuse and cleared it.

His father told him early that morning that he had a job at the forge with Gobber. At the time it sounded outrageous and stupid; he'd never leave the house again. But now it sounded like the best thing that had happened since... since he didn't know when.

Finn whipped around to grab his boots to leave, yanking them on in his sudden excitement, then he froze. He stared back at himself in the mirror and huffed loudly. "Well Finn," he yanked on his nearly shoulder length hair. "We've had better days."

Rummaging through a shelf in his dresser, Finn found a knife and began giving himself a haircut. It took a while and he figured it probably wasn't even, but he wasn't going to have his mother cut this disgusting mop for him. He'd caused her enough grief already. He wasn't about to force that pleasurable experience on her.

Minutes later he surveyed the finished product and he stuck his tongue out at himself. His hair was now shorter than he could remember it being—still an inch long at the nape of his neck and choppy layers throughout. He hadn't originally planned for layers, but cutting everything at the same length was proving more difficult than he'd hoped. He wanted to run his hands through it to feel its length, but he needed a bath. Badly.

Finding a towel and a change of clothes was easy enough. He opted to come back after his bath to sweep up his hair. He reached for the door handle and jumped when it swung open from the other side.

Astrid yelped in shock, staring open mouthed at her son standing in the doorway. She shook herself out of her stupor with a blink. "Finn!"

Finn blinked at her, unsure what to say. He hadn't actually spoken to anyone face to face in... he didn't actually want to think about how long.

"You're up!" Astrid stepped closer, her expression still shocked. "Your hair!"

"Needed a trim."

Again his mom's eyes widened in shock. He started to feel guilty that she was reacting this way. Had he really been that bad? "Um... well, yeah, maybe it did." Astrid tried for a smile but it came on like grimace instead. She glanced down at the items in his arms and he felt the need to explain.

"Washroom."

"O-oh, okay," Astrid replied as he walked past her. "Do you need anything? I can make you breakfast-"

"No thanks, mom. I'm... fine." Finn gave her a weak smile before descending the stairs.

Astrid stood in the doorway, staring at the last place he'd stood. She pointed at the spot as if to ask it if he'd really been there. The mother turned into the bedroom and gasped aloud. He'd actually cleaned! The room was spot- okay, almost spotless. There was a distinct showering of clumpy red hair on the floor.

Nearly jumping in excitement, Astrid tromped down the stairs to get the broom. Even if he said he was fine, she still wanted to make him a bowl of oatmeal in case he decided to eat. She wouldn't push him to eat it but she'd try anyway. After nearly two and a half weeks of staring at walls, blank expressions, and night terrors, she couldn't believe Finn was finally coming around. It was beginning to seem hopeless.

Maybe after Finn (hopefully) ate she could take a flight into the village and find Hiccup. She didn't want to wait until dinnertime to tell him the good news.

Xxx

Brandyn Anderson didn't know much about Terrible Terrors but he did know that they weren't usually so persistent. He tried to swat the rather vocal Terror away from his head but she continued to squawk and hold out her foot, looking thoroughly irritated with him. It was like she thought he was slow on the uptake... actually...

"Have you got a letter attached to your foot?" Brandyn asked incredulously. He knew Terrors were used as messengers but who on earth would be writing to him? The red dragon stuck out her foot again with a noise that sounded like an exasperated huff. "All right, all right, don't get your skivvies in a twist." he mumbled to the reptile as he untied the note. "What have we got here?"

His dark blue eyes scanned the parchment suspiciously, almost like he thought it might explode, before opening it and looking inside. The handwriting that met his eyes was tiny and untidy, almost like it had been scribbled out in a hurry. But the words were clear enough that he didn't have any difficulty reading them.

Dear Brandyn,

I know we don't know each other very well but I didn't know who else to talk to. It's all right if you don't want to send letters but we really hit it off when we met a few weeks ago and I really want a friend right now. A close family friend of ours died not too long after we got back and, on top of all that, my best friend and I kind of had a falling out. I think he'll come around someday but... goodness, I don't want to dump all this on you now. I was hoping we could just... be friends? Maybe? Dad said you were thinking about moving to Berk and we'd love to have you. Think about it, anyway.

Your friend (hopefully),

Anna

Brandyn smiled widely. So the Hooligan chief's daughter wanted to be friends? Excitement began to rise in his chest as he grabbed the closest piece of charcoal to reply to her letter. She had been funny, bright, and adorable. And the Outcast girls... weren't.

Dear Anna,

I'd love to be friends. And you can talk to me about anything. I'll try to listen or, you know, read as closely as I can. Don't listen to what stupid people like your old friend say. You're pretty special. I really look forward to getting to know you.

Ever yours,

Brandyn

Brandyn read over his note three times before tying it to the dragon's leg and setting her free. Though he knew it was probably a bit presumptuous of him to think it, he liked a challenge and the Haddock girl certainly presented one. A pretty young lady like that would not be won easily, especially if the best friend she'd fallen out with was this Erick fellow. But Brandyn also knew that he was clever and charming. Perhaps this would be a fun challenge to work on while he waited to come of age. Then again, he had a year and a half. Anything could happen in that amount of time.

Xxx

Finn shoved his hands through his hair with a sigh of contentment. He couldn't remember when he'd had a haircut last, but he decided the feeling of soft, fluffy, newly cut hair had to be somewhere towards the top of the "greatest feels" list. Not that he'd admit that to anyone else.

Even though he'd told his mother that he was fine, he actually ate most of the oatmeal she'd prepared. He wasn't sure what was more surprising—that he actually ate most of it or that he didn't eat all or more of it. On any given day he'd eat three bowls of it with nuts andberries.

He felt pretty good. The walk to the barn to visit Thornado opened his lungs up and the chilly wind blew against his cheeks. A final glance in the mirror showed a pink tint to his skin from his bath, which improved his mood. Now he didn't look like he was about to keel over.

The teenager could still feel the deep sadness in his chest but he forced himself not to focus on it. He forced any trigger words out of his mind. Luckily Thornado's pen was already open for him to come and go as he pleased, so he didn't have to go inside the barn. Walking to it alone was enough to give him goosebumps, and not from the cold.

With a silent huff, Finn looked toward the village. Everything seemed peaceful, but in fact, he dreaded showing his face. The last time everyone had seen him, he'd been in near shambles. He hadn't stepped foot outside since his father and Toothless apparently carried him home. His mother had been terrified they'd have to cut a few of his toes off from frostbite, but there was no damage. Furthermore, he hadn't spoken to anyone in weeks. He'd gotten a short kiss from Helga the day he left Mara's and they sat with Thorein and Cale and some of the other kids. But after it happened, he hadn't talked to anyone. No one sought him out. At the time he'd been glad that all of his friends backed off, but now he honestly wondered what was going on. His dad said they missed him, but even Helga hadn't shown up to check on him. Not that he would've responded anyway, but it was the thought that counted. Right?

Finn scratched Thornado's brow a final time. "All right big guy," The teenager sighed. "Better late than never."

Thornado followed his young human toward the village, sniffing the salty sea air wafting in from the coast. He kept a close eye on Finn, who kept his eyes downcast as he walked. He seemed to be doing better than the last time they'd seen each other, but he could still tell the difference in behavior. He wanted his vivacious, confident little Stoick back.

The closer they got to the village, the more agitated Finn felt. He wasn't sure if it was nervousness or anxiety, but the thought of being in the public eye unnerved him. He quickened his steps as he entered the village, cursing the fact that the forge was the farthest from his house. He weaved through the small streets between houses to avoid people, picking his way past carts and barrels and hay bales.

Finally he ran out of options and he had to walk through a street. People bustled to and fro like any other day, oblivious to the self-conscious teenager trying to run through unnoticed. He wasn't far from the forge now. He wondered what Gobber would teach him first. Would he start by sharpening swords or melting steel? Or would the old codger just have him dust the shelves and wash his skivvies? He wanted to believe that was just a rumor, but Helga was insistent her mother and uncle had had to do such a heinous thing after one particular prank... yeah, he didn't want to know what kind of prank deserved that sort of punishment.

His father had worked as apprentice at the forge for years. Various inventions and machines were still used day in and day out as a result of Gobber's tutelage and his father's innovation. Finn almost wished he'd talked to his father before going to the forge, but he wasn't going to scour the village for the man. He could be anywhere.

If Finn weren't so miserable, he might have been excited. He liked hard, physically demanding work and he knew he'd probably be taking a majority of it with Gobber's muscles starting to fail. It was a hopeful prospect to say the least and it was enough to keep his head up and his mind comparatively clear. He noticed several glances in his direction as he strode through the village square but he determinedly ignored them. He was here for one job and one job only. Nothing would get in the way.

Except Inga. Then again, it seemed second nature for her to find a way to irritate him to no end. Finn nearly ran into the girl when she came out of seemingly nowhere and blocked his path.

"What are you doing here?" Finn asked in a suspicious voice, raising an eyebrow at her.

Inga held up a plate of what looked like beige colored blobs. "I'm here to raise morale."

"By showing people your rock collection?"

"Hardy har har." Inga rolled her eyes. "They're cookies, stupidhead."

"I'm pretty sure I know what cookies look like." Finn crossed his arms.

"Well it's my first time making them so they don't look perfect but since when do you demand perfection?" Inga held the plate closer to his face.

"You know, an assassination attempt on a future chief is punishable by death."

"I'm not assassinating you!" Inga growled, her cheerful smile melting into a frown. "It's not like I poisoned them. Why would I do that?"

"Hey, if you take out the Haddock clan, the Jorgensons take power. You have motive, means, opportunity, and you can cry on command, I've seen you do it. Feigning innocence would be easy." Finn condescendingly patted her on the head. "Thanks but no thanks. I'd like to see my 17th birthday."

"Just take a freaking cookie!" Inga snapped.

"No."

"Darn it, Finn, I worked really hard on these!" Inga stuck out her lower lip in a pout.

"Awwww... I literally just said I know you can cry on command so put a sock in it." Finn narrowed his eyes at her. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to antagonize her. And the best part was that it seemed to be second nature, an instinct that wouldn't go away no matter what he was feeling. He liked it. "I'll be late for work so if you don't have any more attempts on my life planned..." he began to stride away with his hands in the air.

"Fearless Finn Haddock, you are... you..." Inga gritted her teeth and stomped her foot in agitation, making Finn smile wider.

She grabbed a cookie off the plate and pitched it at him. He effortlessly caught it.

"Well considering how hard these are, I'd say if you hit me the right way, I could die. Weak attempt but hey, I'm feeling generous today. I'll give it a 6." Finn chortled at the red shade that was beginning to envelope the Jorgenson girl's face.

He left her to her irritated growls, laughing for the first time in weeks. He would never say it to her face, but he was just starting to enjoy her company. They weren't friends exactly but he found himself with an odd sort of affection for her. An affection strong enough for him to cave and take a bite of the cookie she'd made.

Well, he thought as his teeth nearly broke, there's one thing we don't have in common. He turned back to announce this when his insides turned to ice. The moment he lay eyes on her, she suddenly collapsed stiffly, her plate shattering and cookies flying in all directions. Again, her muscles seized, her mouth frothed, her eyes fluttered and rolled around aimlessly.

"INGA!"

Heather and the twins were running up; the Jorgenson matriarch threw a hand in front of both boys to stop them from touching their sister. Benen's words echoed through Finn's mind as he watched a small crowd gather around the seizing girl. A feeling of panic rose through him and he felt his legs go out. He fell heavily on Thornado, who helped him stand again.

And then suddenly the feeling returned to his legs and, almost of their own accord, he turned and ran away from the scene. He could hear his breath coming in short gasps as he hurtled toward the forge, desperately trying to get the sight of Inga's twitching form out of his mind.

Finn ran into the forge, skidding around a wall and shoving his back against a hanging rack. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum and he felt his anxiety rising by the second. He finally got here and Thornado took off somewhere, he couldn't break down now-

"Well hi there." Finn jumped as he caught sight of Gobber walking in from the back room, a hammer attachment on his hand prosthetic. If the elderly man noticed the boy's oncoming panic attack, he didn't comment on it. "So ya want to learn the ropes of the forge, eh? Nice haircut by the way."

The teenager gulped, running a hand through his hair. He could feel his hand shaking. "Ahh..." Finn exhaled heavily, trying to get some kind of grip.

"Finn. Look at me."

The boy looked at Gobber nervously and saw only compassion. "If ya want to work here, ya need to focus. You don't need to be losing any limbs. At least not yet." Gobber smirked. "But if ya don't feel ready yet it's fine, we can-"

"No." Finn wiped the sweat off his upper lip and nodded shakily. "Ah... I'm fine."

Gobber nodded swiftly. "All right then. Come 'ere. First things first: always wear an apron. I don't care how old you are, if I find you working in here without an apron on... well, ask your father what the consequences are."

The elderly man was quick to give instruction and often used biting sarcasm and overly exaggerated stories in random places of the conversation, but Finn found it comforting. He was able to forget about the incident with Inga enough to focus on his words, although he did feel a bit of relief when he noticed Inga shakily walking past the forge with Heather and her brothers at her side.

Within half an hour, Finn was sweating. Within a full hour, Gobber had taught him a huge portion of the trade: how to stoke the fires and clean the tools (because the key to a good forge is its hot fires and clean tools), sharpen swords (because the key to a good bloody battle is its sharp swords), and pound the kinks and dents out of bent weapons. Good gods, how did his father work for this guy for nearly twenty years?

"'ere ya go, Finn." Gobber dropped an armful of bent swords, daggers, arrows and other dull weapons. "Sharpen those til you could cut a chicken in half."

Finn inspected a dull arrowhead. "Literally?"

Gobber cuffed him on the head, making the boy smirk a little. "Your father said the same thing, but he was younger. I don't know what's worse, a snarky 12-year-old or his snarky son over twenty years later. I'll be back in a bit to check on ya; don't burn the place down."

"You didn't leave the skivvies over the fire, did you?"

"I learned my lesson!"

Finn bit back a laugh and hefted a mighty sword that looked like it had weathered a yak stampede. He heated the metal until he knew it was ready for pounding. The blade was bent and he fiddled with it on the anvil for a few seconds, trying to get a proper angle. The first swing was awkward and sparks flew. Now he was thankful for the apron. The second swing burned his hand, but he forced himself to keep going. The next few swings were better, though his hand felt like it was both on fire and vibrating. He already couldn't wait until he was used to this.

Something about pounding the metal awakened something inside of him and he began to hit the sword with quick, fluid strikes. His arms grew steadily tired but he decided that it was a good feeling after sitting idle for so long. The misshapen sword was stubborn and didn't want to bend, but he was more stubborn. He would pound this thing all night until it was straighter than his mother's teeth.

But there was something else. He felt something rise in his chest, something hot and burning. He paused to see if a spark had landed on his shirt, but there was nothing there. The feeling didn't pass. Finn stared at the anvil and the sword and hammer in his hands. Were his ears ringing from the banging... or something else?

Without another thought, he set the sword again and continued to pound it. The more he pounded, the more intense the feeling became. He racked his brain trying to decide what this feeling was. Confusion? Anxiety? Panic? Desperation? He felt swirls of these things but this... this was different.

It was searing hot. It was deep and cutting. It was unforgiving and relentless.

Finn was angry.

Instantly so many reasons for this new emotion flooded his mind. He was angry at himself for not being more careful at the barn. If he'd paid better attention to the roof and crumbling structure, Benen would still be here. This whole thing could have been prevented from the very start. He was angry at his father for not coming sooner, heck, for allowing them to go to the barn in the first place. He'd been on the fence about letting them go before they left; why hadn't he done the chiefly thing, like he usually did, and say no? He was angry that Inga had gone to get the stupid ingredient and had gotten hurt as a result, and he was even angrier that the adults, especially Mara and her parents, had allowed her to go. He was angry at the villagers for their false sympathy and pointless gifts that were somehow meant to make him feel better. He was angry at Benen for stealing his heart and leaving him shattered and broken when he was needed the most. And most of all he was angry at himself for appearing weak. No, not appearing weak. Being weak.

Sitting on the floor in his room for so long he couldn't remember when he'd talked last? Weakness. Allowing this grief to consume him for so long? Weakness. Turning tail when Inga collapsed in another fit because he couldn't handle it? Weakness.

If Finn hated anything more than cruelty, it was weakness.

Fueling his anger, he thought back to his short time as a slave. That evil man Javan selling him to slave traders, the traders stripping him and branding him like a common animal, Ratri beating him until blood poured down his shoulders for not scrubbing a foul, pigpen of a floor properly, scrubbing said floors until his fingers bled.

The world was cruel. The world was wicked. It kept the wicked and took the good. It snatched love and goodness away from people and replaced it with hate and bitterness. If love was only to ever end in pain and suffering, just as it always had for his sister, why would he want it? If that's what love meant, then he didn't want it.

"Love is weakness." Finn growled at the sword, slamming the hammer into the body of the sword. "Only the strong can survive."

Forcing himself to ignore the burning pain of his weak muscles, he pounded the sword a final time until it cracked down the center. The end of the sword clanged to the floor as he panted heavily. Turning, he dumped the remaining half of the sword into a scrap bin to be melted down. Glaring out the back door toward the ocean, Finn grasped the necklace tied around his neck, the last gift Benen had ever given him. Using it as his fuel, he would never fall this far and hard again. He would be strong. He would be fearless.

"Fortis."

This is Berk

Relationships are the foundation of our community. We constantly rely on in the promises of others for survival. Without dependence on one another, our whole way of life disintegrates.

Though having faith in people is not easy, trusting those you love the most can be a challenge and, once in a while, we promise too much. After the hardships of betrayal, you can become protective of yourself. Blinded by pain, you shove the ones you love away, and with no one to turn to, set up yourself for a lifetime of loneliness. And by pushing away your loved ones, you cause more pain to yourself than from those who hurt you.

An unintended consequence of this mindset is that you may be shoving away the people who love you the most just because we let you down... even if by mistake. You reject the people who care enough about you to beg for forgiveness and do everything we can to restore your confidence. And so, in the process, you end up breaking more hearts than just your own.

THE END