Status: Active
The Glass Dragon
Chapter Five
When I finally came to, I was lying flat on my back, looking up at a dirt ceiling. I let out a little groan and brought a shaky hand up to rub my head.
“Stop moving,” a voice scolded. “You’ll mess up the bandages.” It was a male voice I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t want to move after he’d just scolded me for moving. I rolled my eyes back as far as I could to see him, but it hurt and it made my stomach churn. I groaned again and closed them.
“I’m right here,” he said softly, and I felt him take my hand. “Quit trying to see me. I mean, I know I’m so close to being Thor-“
“Stop blaspheming,” I muttered. No one should say that.
“Well, at least you still know who Thor is,” the voice said. I opened my eyes to see a boy with bright green eyes staring down at me. “Hey sleepyhead,” he said with a gentle sounding voice as he pulled a crate up beside me and sat on it. His thumb ran over the back of my hand, as though trying to be comforting, before laying a soft kiss on it.
“Uh…” I said cautiously, taking my hand back from him and rubbing it on my shirt. “Who…are you?”
This boy looked at me then laughed. The sound was loud and hurt my head even more. “Wow, Astrid, ouch. I mean, you can be mad at me, it is my fault, but pretending you don’t know me…” He let out a whistle as he trailed off, but his eyes shown with mirth, as if I had just told the best joke ever.
“I’m not pretending,” I said seriously, my brow knitting together in confusion. “Who are you?” I repeated. I didn’t know this boy. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place a name to his face, and I certainly didn’t have any attachments to him. He looked lanky, scrawny and weak. Not like a Viking in the least. He would prove to be useless in a fight.
His amused expression faded quickly and he stared at me. “Astrid, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny!” I snapped at him. “What is going on?”
“No, no, no,” he muttered furiously, moving to sit beside me on the table-like surface I was laying on. He stroked my face as he stared down at me with worry. “Gods, no… Astrid. You’re Astrid. Astrid Hofferson. And I’m Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. Please, you have to remember.” The boy was pleading and it was unbecoming.
I frowned and sat up, swatting his hands away. “I know who I am,” I snapped. “And who names their kid a hiccup?”
His expression turned to one of hurt. I could see tears pooling at the sides of his eyes. “Gods…” he said again, pained mystification plaguing his voice. It was almost sad. Mostly just pathetic. “Gothi! Gothi!” he yelled.
A small frail woman came hobbling in and she looked between us. She didn’t speak as she came to me. The boy-Hiccup-moved out of the way and let her get close to me. I didn’t like the way she smelled. Or looked at me.
“Gothi, she doesn’t… She doesn’t know me. Do something!” He was doing the begging thing again.
I rolled my eyes. “You need to stop that. Seriously. Do you know how irritating the whining and begging thing is?” I asked him. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Maybe he was truly that dumb and didn’t know any better.
He just stared at me, his mouth agape. “This isn’t you!” he finally yelled desperately. His voice even cracked a little as it filled with emotion. “Astrid, you’re not you! I’m trying to fix you!”
I sat up and looked at him, my head swimming for a moment. “I don’t need to be fixed, Hiccup,” I spat at him. “Are we done here? Can I go?” I swung my legs off of the table, sitting on the edge. The armor on my arms and my skirt clanged some as it bumped together.
I got my bearings straight and hopped off of the table. “I looked at them both. “I don’t know why you both think there’s something wrong with me. I know who I am.”
I pulled open the door and stepped out into what looked like a rather large arena. It could have also been some kind of death cell for dragons. Perhaps it was at one point. I stalked across it, towards a large, wrought iron gate. I gripped the handle and turned it, the chain winching the gate open. I put the stop in and ducked under it, walking up the ramp and out into the weather.
The winter wind nipped at the bare skin showing on my arms, but I didn’t flinch once. I maybe wasn’t honest with them back in that room. There were holes, littering my memory and what I knew. I wasn’t going to tell them that though. They seemed to think that I was someone other than who I was, which was a ridiculous notion in and of itself. They knew my name, and therefore they should have known who I was and what I did.
There were three things, however, that I did know for certain. They are as follows:
1- My name is Astrid Hofferson of Berk.
2- I am a Viking.
3- I live to kill dragons.
“Stop moving,” a voice scolded. “You’ll mess up the bandages.” It was a male voice I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t want to move after he’d just scolded me for moving. I rolled my eyes back as far as I could to see him, but it hurt and it made my stomach churn. I groaned again and closed them.
“I’m right here,” he said softly, and I felt him take my hand. “Quit trying to see me. I mean, I know I’m so close to being Thor-“
“Stop blaspheming,” I muttered. No one should say that.
“Well, at least you still know who Thor is,” the voice said. I opened my eyes to see a boy with bright green eyes staring down at me. “Hey sleepyhead,” he said with a gentle sounding voice as he pulled a crate up beside me and sat on it. His thumb ran over the back of my hand, as though trying to be comforting, before laying a soft kiss on it.
“Uh…” I said cautiously, taking my hand back from him and rubbing it on my shirt. “Who…are you?”
This boy looked at me then laughed. The sound was loud and hurt my head even more. “Wow, Astrid, ouch. I mean, you can be mad at me, it is my fault, but pretending you don’t know me…” He let out a whistle as he trailed off, but his eyes shown with mirth, as if I had just told the best joke ever.
“I’m not pretending,” I said seriously, my brow knitting together in confusion. “Who are you?” I repeated. I didn’t know this boy. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place a name to his face, and I certainly didn’t have any attachments to him. He looked lanky, scrawny and weak. Not like a Viking in the least. He would prove to be useless in a fight.
His amused expression faded quickly and he stared at me. “Astrid, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny!” I snapped at him. “What is going on?”
“No, no, no,” he muttered furiously, moving to sit beside me on the table-like surface I was laying on. He stroked my face as he stared down at me with worry. “Gods, no… Astrid. You’re Astrid. Astrid Hofferson. And I’m Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. Please, you have to remember.” The boy was pleading and it was unbecoming.
I frowned and sat up, swatting his hands away. “I know who I am,” I snapped. “And who names their kid a hiccup?”
His expression turned to one of hurt. I could see tears pooling at the sides of his eyes. “Gods…” he said again, pained mystification plaguing his voice. It was almost sad. Mostly just pathetic. “Gothi! Gothi!” he yelled.
A small frail woman came hobbling in and she looked between us. She didn’t speak as she came to me. The boy-Hiccup-moved out of the way and let her get close to me. I didn’t like the way she smelled. Or looked at me.
“Gothi, she doesn’t… She doesn’t know me. Do something!” He was doing the begging thing again.
I rolled my eyes. “You need to stop that. Seriously. Do you know how irritating the whining and begging thing is?” I asked him. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Maybe he was truly that dumb and didn’t know any better.
He just stared at me, his mouth agape. “This isn’t you!” he finally yelled desperately. His voice even cracked a little as it filled with emotion. “Astrid, you’re not you! I’m trying to fix you!”
I sat up and looked at him, my head swimming for a moment. “I don’t need to be fixed, Hiccup,” I spat at him. “Are we done here? Can I go?” I swung my legs off of the table, sitting on the edge. The armor on my arms and my skirt clanged some as it bumped together.
I got my bearings straight and hopped off of the table. “I looked at them both. “I don’t know why you both think there’s something wrong with me. I know who I am.”
I pulled open the door and stepped out into what looked like a rather large arena. It could have also been some kind of death cell for dragons. Perhaps it was at one point. I stalked across it, towards a large, wrought iron gate. I gripped the handle and turned it, the chain winching the gate open. I put the stop in and ducked under it, walking up the ramp and out into the weather.
The winter wind nipped at the bare skin showing on my arms, but I didn’t flinch once. I maybe wasn’t honest with them back in that room. There were holes, littering my memory and what I knew. I wasn’t going to tell them that though. They seemed to think that I was someone other than who I was, which was a ridiculous notion in and of itself. They knew my name, and therefore they should have known who I was and what I did.
There were three things, however, that I did know for certain. They are as follows:
1- My name is Astrid Hofferson of Berk.
2- I am a Viking.
3- I live to kill dragons.