#Oswald the Agreeable

[krikunjayvoice]

Another kid in the chat finished watching the series and we remembered, that I had a fucking theory and it fits the lore of the universe very well. And it concerns two of the most mysterious characters that we were not shown — Oswald the Agreeable (Dagur and Heather's father) and Viggo's grandfather (whom we named Ulric, and took the nickname from the book). I called it the Dragon Eye Saga and I would like to see a spinoff about this couple. The grandfather's fate is unknown, but I remember the moment with the discovery of the Dragon Eye. It was the Grimborn ship where in the captain's cabin there was a skeleton of a large man clutching the device. And also Viggo's words that the DE had been in their family for centuries (so he saw it, trivially in childhood or youth, and he knows how it works.) But why was it lost and he was looking for it? And Oswald hid the most important lenses for the DE in his family. That's why it seems like there's a connection between the two. The theory is that the two of them were able to decipher the lenses of the device, and perhaps they were not just allies, but friends.

And apparently they both understood the danger of this thing in the wrong hands. Which is why they decided to hide it, and the lenses. Some lenses were hidden in the Grimborns style — with traps and riddles, others in unusual places. The lenses were hidden, Oswald decided to keep one for himself, and give the other two to his children. Ulric kept the device itself with him. Apparently, towards the end of his life, he went on a voyage, leaving Viggo as his successor. But he did not return. The Reaper ran aground and Ulric died there, holding the Dragon Eye even after his death.

Oswald went to hide the most important lens, which belonged to him, and eventually suffered a shipwreck, after which he got stuck on Vanaheim and ended his life there far from his beloved children.

Perhaps a compelling reason to urgently hide DE and the lenses was the appearance of Drago Bludvist and his idea of an army of dragons. After all, an army needs a dragon king, and DE leads to him.

[sk-yay-sk]

[noctusfury]

Do Dagur and Heather Have Anglo-Saxon Ancestry? (HTTYD/RTTE Theory)

Hello, my fellow Furians! Here's another HTTYD article for you today!

In this article, we'll ask the question of why Heather doesn't look like the other Vikings and why her name isn't a Viking or Barbaric-Archipelago-ian like the others. 

Here is my take on this.

(This is also major thanks to @valiantwarrior37 for helping me out concerning this and we had a lot of fun discussing this several years ago.)

My Theory and Headcanon:

.

.

Their Physical Appearance:

Here's MY theory and headcanon for this question:

Heather — and possibly Dagur — have Anglo-Saxon blood!

If this is the first time you've heard of this, or if this sounds a bit "out there," then please hear me out!

Now, you're probably wondering, "Noctus, why do you think that Heather — and possibly Dagur — have Anglo-Saxon blood? They're BERSERKERS!" 

AH! Well, I didn't say that they were FULL-BLOODED Anglo-Saxons, now, did I?

What I mean is that they're half Anglo-Saxon and half Viking. The Viking half from their father, and the Anglo-Saxon half from their mother. Or even a quarter Anglo-Saxon from their father's side (or mother's side), maybe?

Now, why do I think that?

Because we literally know nothing about their mother and very little about Osvald the Agreeable. We don't know what they looked like, how they met before Dagur and Heather were born, or if maybe the mom died and Osvald remarried—WE. KNOW. NOTHING!

Yes, Heather looks nothing like a Viking; that we can agree with. Neither does her name. My headcanon is that she takes it after their mother, or even grandmother, who's quite possibly Anglo-Saxon by blood. The reason why is probably the hair-color and Heather's physical appearance. It's very common in Anglo-Saxon women. Anglo-Saxons were well-known to have a lot of brunettes (though they did have blondes, too). Black-haired people as well. Even a few redheads, but those weren't as common as the Celtic and even Nordic peoples.

We must, of course, consider, that Dagur and Heather could be half-siblings, meaning that they could've had different mothers.

Now, we don't know what she looked like, nor what Osvald looked like. Osvald could've had red hair and green eyes, while the mother had black hair (or dark brown hair) and whatever-colored eyes she had (let's say, blue, for argument's sake). So Dagur looks like Osvald and Heather looks like the mother. Or Osvald could've had different eyes while the mother had the green eyes, so both kids have their mother's eyes, but Heather also has her mother's looks and hair. 

If Osvald had black/dark brown hair and green eyes (which I doubt because Vikings don't really have that combination usually) and the mother had red hair and blue eyes, then Heather would have the form of her mother yet the hair and eyes of her father, and Dagur would have the form and eyes of his father, but the hair of his mother. 

If Osvald had black/brown hair hair and blue (or brown) eyes, and the mother had red hair and green eyes, then Dagur would've had his mother's hair and eyes and the build and personality of his father while Heather had the form and eyes of her mother and the hair of her father. Actually, the OC that I made to be Dagur and Heather's mother has this combo (though, I'm not sure if I'm going to be keeping that look).

The problem with this though is that I doubt that Osvald has black/dark brown hair and whatever-colored-eyes-that-aren't-green because look at this:

And this:

These are concept artwork of Osvald the Agreeable. The problem though is that none of these look like Osvald in the Race to the Edge series in this shot:

Look at this guy! Oswald in RTTE looks taller and, while buff-looking, isn't a rounded square block. To be fair, though, RTTE is a product of Netflix, not Cartoon Network, so it make sense that the designs for Osvald would be different.

Also, I really wouldn't be surprised if he has red hair and green eyes. Or red hair and blue eyes.

If any of you are experts in genetics, please clear this up for me. 

Please?

Anyway, comment on these two questions:

1) What do you think Oswald looks like?

2) What do you think Oswald's wife looks like?

<><><><><><><><><><>

Heather's Name:

Okay, back to Heather and Dagur — but mostly Heather.

Another possible proof to my headcanon as to why Heather may be half (or quarter) Anglo-Saxon is. . . well, her name. Heather is a Middle-English name used between the 1100s-1400s — though that's most likely its peak period. It wouldn't be surprising if it was used as early as the Anglo-Saxon period. It was used by the Anglo-Saxons (particularly the Northumbrians), the Anglo-Normans, and the Scottish later in the medieval period. So if her mother gave her daughter the name Heather, then she, or Heather's grandmother, would probably most likely be Anglo-Saxon, as Heather is an Anglo-Saxon name, more or less. Keep in mind that Heather is merely an Anglicized version of the name. Her mother, if she was Anglo-Saxon, would've said the name in her Anglo-Saxon language, but when she named her, her mother would've used the Norse language, so it could easily be Lynga or Lyngja or Lynghild or Lyngrid — Lyng meaning "heather" in Old Norse; another possibility is Erika, which can translate into "heather" in some languages. Quite possibly Middle-English as well.

Another possibility — but less likely — is that Heather might've inherited the name from her mother or her grandmother (depending on who was full-blooded Anglo-Saxon). It may have been that her grandmother was the Anglo-Saxon and not her mother. Honestly, we don't know. Dagur says himself that Heather and he are the only family each other's got, which means that everyone in the Berserk family has . . . retired! We know almost nothing of their family and we don't know what any of them look like.

Heck, Dagur and Heather could've been half-siblings for all we know — Oswald's first wife having Dagur and the Anglo-Saxon gal having Heather. We simply don't know.

Ugh! The possibilities are ENDLESS!!!

<><><><><><><><><><>

Conclusion:

So regardless whether Dagur and Heather's mother was red-haired and green-eyed, or red-haired and blue-eyed, or black-haired and green-eyed, or black-haired and blue-eyed, or whatever hair/eye combo you want to give her, it can literally be any of these combos because we don't know what Oswald and his wife look like. If she has red hair and blue or green eyes, she may be Scottish or Irish (or maybe one of those few Anglo-Saxon ladies that's a red-head). Or she may be Anglo-Saxon. Or she may just be 100% Norse and Heather is simply an Anglicized version of her Viking name that means "heather". After all, Hiksti means "hiccup" in Icelandic, which is the closest form of Old Norse that we can sadly get.

If anyone can correct me on this, please let me know. I'd be interested to know if there's an Old Norse word for "hiccup". 

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this article. Thank you for your time.

So, in conclusion, my theory and headcanon is that Heather and Dagur's mother is Anglo-Saxon and that they're half-bloods -- which can explain her appearance and name. It doesn't go against the canon, but it also can't be confirmed either. Though you can't confirm anything concerning Heather, Dagur, and their family because their family is practically "retired" in Valhalla having a grand ole time partying and feasting and fighting people every day for eternity. lol XD

Regardless if she's half Anglo-Saxon, half Irish, half Scottish, or just 100% Norse with an Anglicized version of what would've been her Nordic name, this is just my nest egg on the matter. I hope you enjoyed it.

So please tell me your thoughts, my fellow Furians! Who do you think Heather is? Do you agree with my headcanon that she's part Anglo-Saxon? Or do you think that she's Irish? Scottish? Or just 100% Norse?

Also, what do you think their parents looked like, and what did Dagur and Heather inherit genetically from them? Or do you think that Dagur and Heather are half-siblings?

I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed picking apart this question as much as I have. 

Farewell and happy flying to you all, my fellow Furians!

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[ask-viggo-and-dagur]

hey viggo can you tell us about your parents then dagur too🫤?

Dagur: Well, Viggo already talked about his parents a bit here. I don't think he wants to go into more detail.

And, well, I never really knew my mother. Fatalities during childbirth were very real back in my time, and she passed while birthing Heather. Which... I blamed Heather for taking her away, but that's another story.

My father... Oh, my father... i wish I'd appreciated him more. I wish I'd listened to him. He was a noble man. He was brave for wanting to make peace with others rather than war. War is easy. Peace? Not so much. I respect him now in his death, but I wish I could have respected him in life too.

[sarnai4]

Went Out For Some Milk

I think that Dagur and Hiccup have more in common than most people realize. An underrated example of this is how they both have parents who just plain abandoned them. To a certain extent, I understand Valka and Oswald. On a deeper level, I really can't get it at all. Here's why:

I get that Valka didn't willingly leave. She was taken by Cloudjumper. That's not her fault in the slightest. She was trying to protect her baby and was taken by a spooked dragon; however, why did she stay gone? She learned how to fly on dragons. Therefore, she had the means to return. The idea of her not being able to come back is gone. The realm with the dragons wasn't too far from Berk. She could ride a flying creature. The next suggestion is that it would've been unsafe. That's the one she used to explain it...but how? I'm genuinely curious if anyone has a reason because I can't think of it for the life of me. Just have Cloudjumper drop you off near Berk, swim to shore, and say you escaped. Or don't say that and try to gradually get the other Berkians to accept dragons. Heck, if she loved dragons so much and didn't want to ever be away, she could have flown to Berk and been like, "Hey, hubby, I'm a dragon rider now. Be cool with that and we can stay together." Stoick probably would've loved her enough to accept one of these. He loved her enough to accept that she made him a single dad for 20 years and wasn't even upset. It's also not fair to Hiccup that he grew up without a mom because she was too scared to be herself around the Berkians or risk losing her new freedom away from the island.

Oswald runs into the reverse of this. For him, I understand why he didn't return. The guy was shipwrecked on an island with dragons who didn't want anyone leaving. My issue with him is that he left in the first place. Why did he go? Why did he not tell anyone? Dagur never should've been able to convince the other Berserkers that he killed Oswald because the man should have told the others he was heading out. If he was going to a peace treaty signing, I'm sure he would've gone with more people. As a chief, it's irresponsible to not let his Vikings know where he'll be going or if he will since they might need his help. As a father, it's irresponsible to leave his son 50,000+ people to be in charge of without so much as a goodbye first. All he had to do was tell someone. An argument could be made that he told Dagur, but the question then becomes why on Earth would he do that and not tell anyone else? Mini Dagur isn't the person you give your location to so that he can be your emergency contact. If he even paid attention, he'd probably laugh at the idea of there being an emergency. Even still, I doubt that Oswald told him because Dagur seemed to really have no idea where he had gone. So, it's highly likely that Oswald just decided he had enough of being a chief and dad, then went to the great beyond.

I'm sure these are both unpopular opinions, but these parents really do bug me. What annoys me more is that I don't think either is shown to be anything other than loving despite that. It's unfair to their kids. I don't want the movie to tell me Valka is just the best mom ever and that they're going to be a happy family now that they found her. She could have returned to them years ago and we wouldn't have had that sad episode back when they were kids with poor Hiccup being desperate to find the one item his mom had given him since that was the only thing he had to remind him of her. I don't want to see a happy scene with Dagur reading about how much his dad loved him. Oswald should have proven it by not abandoning him, then in that same episode with the supposed happy moment, Dagur wouldn't have voiced his doubt that his dad did in fact love him. Just a little something that irks me, but I'm curious what everyone else thinks.

[theroomfloor]

Dagur: Father, are you homophobic?

Oswald: Number 1 "You're GAY"

Oswald: Number 2 "I have a lesbian daughter"

Oswald: Number 3 "I watch RuPaul's DragRace

Oswald: How can I be homophobic?

Oswald: IDIOT!

*hysterical laughter in the background*

[chaoticskyy]

Since we know thar Drago killed the whole bunch of chiefs and only Stoick survived. Do we think that Oswald the Agreeable was just absent or that he was next in line for the chiefdom of the Berserkers and then started his raids as Oswald the Antagonistic?

[galaxyregent]

Here we have Dagur's Family, his mother Iona and his sister Brenna as a child. As you can see Brenna and Dagur favor their mother. I imagine Oswald had red hair too, though faded from the years. All three of Oswald's children got his eyes. Heather got dark hair from her mother.

Iona was a fierce and well respected warrior of the tribe, coming for a prominent family. She came from a family where she had one brother (Harold/Herald) and two sisters.

When I picture Iona and Oswald's relationship, I dont picture one of deep love but practicality. Iona was a good match for the chief and she found fulfillment in bettering her tribe and assisting him in war. She was never the type to stand still. Even though they weren't in love, they respected each other deeply. There was never a whisper of infidelity on either party while Iona lived.

Iona loved her children fiercely, wanting only the best for them in the future. It was actually more from Iona than Oswald the children get their mental instability from. Iona was great at managing it, on the battlefield she always let loose. For those who don't know, Berserkers were a supposedly real type of warrior among vikings. They would drink some kind of medicine, likely a serious stimulant, and charge into the battle fields, destroying all in their wake. It was said in battle they couldn't even differentiate between friends and foes so even allies had to give them a wide berth.

Brenna and Dagur loved their mother in turn, but only Brenna remembers her with any clarity. Still, Dagur remembers the fierce-some warrior his mother was from stories and faint memories. In BB I always right Dagur having deep respect for women, which seems to be canon too. That was partly due to Brenna being a domineering presence when they were children. She forced him to do her chores a lot.

It's never been clear why Oswald became agreeable, but I have a theory in the BB universe. Brenna is older than Dagur, and when she was born, there were many talks about a potential spouse. Wars between the tribes make intermarriage difficult, so they were trying to think of a spouse on island. However it was difficult, the population of the Berserker tribe is pretty much all related, more or less, especially the more influential clans. Now, inbreeding was nowhere near as understood as it now, but people understand cause and effect. Blood being too close has long since a valid reason to dissolving marriages of aristocracy.

When tribes are at war, blood becomes concentrated leading to sickly babes and deformities. Oswald found that every potential, suitable partner for Brenna was too close in blood. Then he had an idea. Even though he was at war with other tribes, he respected their leaders as warriors and men. What if there was a way to conquer tribes without bloodshed? What about marriage?

Slowly he begins his journey and establishing peace with other tribes. Brenna is promised to young heir of Hysteria tribes, one of his chief rivals. This bring peace and boost of commerce and fresh blood into both tribes, alliance also helps with dragon problem.

Peace with the Hooligan tribe is equally important, so he's thrilled when Stoick has a daughter while he has a son. Considering the difficulties with Hiccup's birth and the slew of failed pregnancies prior to her it's unlikely Stoick would have another child. This is confirmed when Valka is taken and Stoick refuses to take another wife.

It's an added bonus because law would support Hiccup's right to inherit the chief mantle. In the beginning it looked difficult because Stoick wanted his girl to stay close and resolve the succession crisis by marrying her to his nephew, his next closest relation. Eventually, Oswald convinces him to marry Hiccup to Dagur.

This plan actually kind of works because four of his six grandchildren are chiefs in their own right; his three grandsons through Dagur and his granddaughter Silvi through Brenna. Each chief ruling over a powerful tribe.

Iona means both Dove and Island

Brenna means burning or torch, again referencing her hair

[detdeldragons]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Excerpt from the chapter “Dear Oswald.” Heather and Windshear find some shelter to get out of a storm, and Heather passes the time by reading a letter from a mysterious author.

“With each passing day I feel less in control of my own brain, more unhinged, more...deranged. There is a venom inside of me that wants to poison the world around me and deprive them of what I've been forced to live without. It is wrong, and I know its wrong, but I am the Chief and I need to be strong and how can you be strong without showing the world what you are willing to do in your own name? When dragons burn our homes and blizzards decimate our crops and other Vikings raid our shores what else is a leader to do other than be strong? And there is no one I can tell, no one I can speak my fears to, for if I speak my fears then someone might hear and use them against me and tear away the only thing of yours that I still possess - your chiefdom.”

This series of short stories features the various Vikings living in the Barbaric Archipelago. I have stories about Hiccup, Astrid, Heather, Fishlegs, Snotlout, the Twins, Stoick, Johann, and more. Hope you enjoy!

[misterrttegrimborn]

Eminem - Without Me

(my edit)

[uselessreptile]

and Snotlout was narrating events like a true crime documentary

Searching for Oswald ... and Chicken is such a wild episode. Like, the A plot is Dagur facing his guilt surrounding the fate of his father and his potential hand in it, finding the hope to reunite with and reconcile with his previously presumed dead father and ultimately learning that Oswald is, in fact, dead, and Dagur might have been able to save him when he first went missing if he'd just went looking for him

And then the B plot is the twins, Astrid, and Snotlout uncovering Tuffnut pet chicken's secret affair with an unknown rooster and her 8 illegitmate chicks that she has been actively hiding from Tuffnut for several weeks

[krikunjayvoice]

I'm sure they knew each other.

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

some rumors i like to believe the twins spread around berk, starting from most normal and getting progressively more and more weird:

snotlout wears heels to make himself taller

fishlegs didn’t write his dragon cards. they just appeared one day

hiccup is a lycanwing

stoicks hair is red from the blood of his enemies

ruffnut doesn’t cut her hair, she just eats it when it gets too long (spread by tuff)

tuffnut has sexual relations with sheep (spread by ruff)

bucket’s bucket that he wears on his head was the very bucket he was born in

mala pegs dagur (no one knows if this is true or not, including the twins)

stoick is actually two very skinny haddocks in a trenchcoat

gobber’s dragon is actually just a really big toad

hiccup meows like a cat when he gets excited

snotlout’s middle name is *cue every single name that starts with a g except for gary*

astrid made up heather to make it seem like she has more friends and everyone else just went along with it (this was the first and only rumor the twins ever spread about astrid)

ruffnut single handedly took down a whole camp of hunters (spread by ruff)

snotlout has to sleep in someone else’s room when there’s a storm (this one’s actually true)

tuffnut beat the scourge of odin three times with no antidote (spread by tuff)

gobber didn’t actually lose his hand and foot, they’re just really small and inside of the hook/peg leg

ruffnut is actually tuffnut, and tuffnut is actually ruffnut, they were switched at birth (the twins didn’t spread this one, they have no clue who did) (it was fishlegs)

fanghook is actually a girl and gustav just uses masculine terminology for her to be more like snotlout

hiccup got eaten by a dragon as a child and that’s why he’s like this

tuffnuts shoved the entire dragon eye up his ass

dagur IS oswald the agreeable, he just needed a way to cover up the fact that he doesn’t age

feel free to add more if you think of any!!

[noctusfury]

Osvald the Agreeable by Noctus Fury

Hello, everyone! Today, here's another HTTYD edit for you. This time, it's Chief Osvald. I used one of the art concepts of him from the show for it, though we don't know his EXACT appearance, sadly.

I also kept the guards and the banners, since they're pretty cool. And it just looks like a Chief has entered the room! 😎

This is a scenario where Osvald never left, nor did he die, but continued ruling the Berserker Tribe, and came on the ROB episode "Twinsanity", hence maybe, plausibly, preventing the Berserker War from occurring. But who knows, since Dagur is Dagur. 🤷‍♂️

Other fanworks in this series are here, here, and here.

Thank you for your support and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury

[p-artsypants]

The Pale Rider (1) The Curse of Berk

The Isle of Berk is cursed. Like, extremely cursed. It has been for generations. The extent of the curse has been forgotten over time, but no descendants of the original village are able to leave the island, lest they suffer a gruesome fate.

Three years ago, the Blacksmith invited the Pale Rider to town. He’s a creature that’s haunted the forest and childhood campfire stories for centuries. Now, he arrives every day at noon. One day, Astrid Hofferson decides to be brave and talk to him. He’s actually really nice…for an eldritch abomination.

A Beauty and the Beast AU.

Ao3

Astrid had grown up on the isle of Berk. Born and raised on its cursed soil. She knew the best trees for climbing, she knew every name in the five hundred or so people that roamed the village. She swam its waters, explored its caves. She knew not to eat the dark purple berries on the thorny vines, and she knew not to make fire from black wood. She knew it was bad luck to wander into the bonefield, and that only people with a death wish went out at night. She knew that the trade ships that came in refused to stay more than one night on their soil, and that no ‘blood of the island’ was able to leave the isle’s waters.

And she knew not to approach the Pale Rider. 

Life on Berk was not really all that different from life on any other island or village. There were a few things to get used to, but all things considered, life was fine. 

Almost idyllic. 

They had farms, they had a baker, a blacksmith/butcher/dentist, a tailor, and a medicine woman. There was a large field of wildflowers. And the cliffs that overlooked the ocean offered beautiful views.

What was odd was that they didn’t have a mayor, or chief, or any kind of ruler. There was Oswald the Agreeable, the richest man in town, who had the money to sway most decisions, but he wasn’t looked at for leadership. 

And the land was cursed. Oh, extremely cursed.

The extent of the curse was not fully known. It had long been set into the island for many generations. The inciting event had wiped out a large amount of the population, that included the witnesses. 

Thus the boneyard and the forbidden, crumbling castle on the mountain. 

Besides a few stray quirks of the island, the main effect of the curse was that no one born of the descents of the original village was able to leave. The curse feasted upon the life of its inhabitants and leaving the waters a few miles out would find one drained of energy before they perished. 

That’s how her father died. 

A fisherman, out alone on his vessel, just trying to go out a little farther to look for a better spot. The medicine woman stated that he had succumbed to the curse before he could even turn around. That was, of course, several days after he hadn’t come back and his ship finally floated back. 

So if you weren’t the adventurous or vacationing type, it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Oh right, there was also the Pale Rider. 

When she was a child, stories of the Rider would instill fear into the children of the village. He was responsible for the missing livestock, for the trails of blood, and piles of bones. It was only a matter of time before his hunger would turn to those who he cornered in dark alleys at night. 

Things changed a few years ago. Whereas the Rider had only ever been talked about, and stood as an urban legend of the town, he was still a mystery. Parents made up what he looked like, how he acted, what he wanted. There was occasionally a sighting. Someone would come ranting and raving in the village square that they saw the Rider running across the ocean or some other flight of fancy. Others still swore they heard the whinny of his horse. Although when asked to describe it, they ended up mimicking the sound of a bear or a mountain lion. 

It all started with Bucket. He was another fisherman, and had a lightning bolt strike him on the head one day, causing a delay in thought process. He wore a bucket on his head to protect his soft skull, hence the name ‘Bucket’. Casually, one night at the Great Hall, he stated that he had caught someone trying to steal from the fish barrels.

“Who was it, Bucket?” Asked Mulch, his fishing partner.

“I don’t know. Didn’t ask his name.” 

“Well, what did he look like?” 

“Oh…tall fella. Recon 7 feet tall. Had a long black cloak, a deer skull on his head, oh! And when I yelled at him, he flew away on a horse!” 

There was a moment of silence as everyone thought that through. 

“Do ya think it was the Pale Rider?”  

“Oh, I bet it was! Didn’t say a word though!” 

Apparently, that was all it took for one man. The village Blacksmith/butcher/dentist, an eccentric man named Gobber, gifted with a backbone made of steel, decided he had enough. He called everyone together in the village square and announced, “I have invited the Pale Rider to come to my shop tomorrow, and he accepted.” 

Horrified murmurings fell over the crowd. 

“You did what?” 

“Aye! You heard me! I got tired of the creature snagging my chickens! Pickin’ them off one by one…terrified them out of laying eggs! The last time he took one, I nearly caught him in the act. I yelled ‘well at least pay for the bugger!’ and he threw a gold coin at me.” 

“…so you invited him into the village?” 

“Yes!” Gobber exclaimed. “But you’re looking at it all wrong. I invited him to come and run his errands like a normal person, instead of him stealing like a horrible raccoon!” 

“He’s no horrible raccoon! He’s worse! He’s a demon!” 

“An abomination!” 

“The curse that walks!” 

“Death incarnate!” 

“Now now,” a voice called out among the crowd. This belonged to Dagur, son of the richest man in town, Oswald. As the richest family, the Berserker clan had some power, and opinions. “I’m sure Gobber didn’t mean any harm in inviting…an eldritch monster into our sweet little village.” 

“It’s jus’ as much his village as everyone else’s! He’s been here longer than all of us. A little goodwill won’t hurt nobody.” 

“You better hope it won’t, old man.” Dagur poked him in the chest. “Or I’ll make sure you suffer.” 

Astrid remembered the day the Pale Rider came to town for the first time. She was only 14, still a child. Her father was still alive. That day was sunny with big pillowy clouds. Many folks would claim that he arrived on a gray, rainy day, but that simply wasn’t true. It was sunny, and lovely. 

The caws of ravens preceded him. A flock of five swooping in. Then a horn from the watchtower alerted an intruder. 

The black shadow appeared at the edge of town, opposite to Gobber’s forge, at the gates. People screamed and ran inside, while others coward in alleyways, terrified but curious to see what would happen. 

Astrid had been pulled into her house by her father, but still peered out the door to watch. 

The Pale Rider made his way through town, the clacking of horse hoofs and the calls of the ravens the only thing to show life in the village. 

He was not what she was expecting, but much worse. His horse, if you could call it that, was a black beast with leathery wings. It had tusks and fangs and its hooves morphed into talons. Its eyes glowed an acid green and it breathed fire from its nostrils. Its shape was unnatural. The neck looked like it was made of only bone, and its joints were spindly and narrow. 

The Rider himself was tall, too tall. His neck was elongated, as were his black and blue fingers. He wore an animal skull mask over his face, but his own violent eyes still burned with visible green flames through the sockets. He had antlers like an elk, and wore a long, draping black cloak that fell open just enough to reveal his chest. 

His heart was on fire inside of him, and the flame illuminated it through the skin, only obscured by the form of his rib cage. 

Astrid’s home wasn’t too far from Gobber’s shop, and she slipped out to watch the Rider arrive. 

Gobber waited for him, hands on his hips and smiling. “There you are! I wondered if ya’d show. And ah, sorry ‘bout the cold reception! I told the other folks that you were comin’ and well, maybe one day they’ll come around.” 

The Rider didn’t respond. 

“Right, so come on in…” Gobber beckoned him into the forge. 

The Rider ducked his head, entering the forge, horse and all. His antlers scraped against the doorframe. 

He stayed for about an hour. Then, just as he came, he left. Silent, slowly, just rode down the hill and out of town, leaving everyone behind to deal with the aftermath. 

That was three years ago. Every day since then, without fail, the Pale Rider would arrive at noon. For the first year, the guard sounded the horn at his approach. But after a while, he went unannounced. 

People still halted in the streets and let their conversations go silent. They watched him go, no longer terrified, but cautious. 

No one said it, but everyone agreed one day he’d snap and kill them all. 

Not Astrid though. She had come to see the Rider as a part of village life. Just as the rooster signifies dawn, so does the Rider declare noon. 

Each day, he went to the blacksmith’s shop, taking his horse in with him. Some days he left with a paper package, and some days he left empty handed. 

One night at the Great Hall, the topic of the Rider was broached. 

“I’m telling ya Gobber, inviting that thing here everyday is wrong! Simply wrong!” Said the farmer, Sven. 

“Oh?” Asked Gobber. “How so?” 

“How so?! Are you daft, man? Can’t you see the terror you have caused this town? We were happier when the boogie man was a rare sight! Now we have to see him every day!” 

“And?” Asked Gobber, pointing an accusing finger at him. “He’s a wee spooky, yeah, but what else has he done? Hmm? Lose anymore livestock since he started comin’ round?” 

Sven screwed up his lips, but didn’t answer. 

“Gobber,” a woman asked. “What does the Rider do when he comes to your shop? I think if you can answer that, we’d all feel a bit better.” 

Gobber then noticed how many people were interested in hearing this information, as they turned to look and listen. 

He held up his hands. “Alright, I’ll only talk about it once, because it’s not my place to divulge the lad’s business.” 

Astrid took particular note of the word ‘lad’. The Rider was several centuries old by now, but Gobber spoke as if he were a boy. 

“He’s just…well, doing business! Somedays, he gets some cuts of meat. I’ve re-shoed his horse a few times. First time was a doozy, I’ll tell you that!” 

“That horse wears shoes?” Astrid found herself asking. 

“Aye lass! He’s very particular about it! Brought me this fancy black metal to use! Never told me what it was…” 

“And?” Someone else asked. “What else?” 

“Oh not much, really. He’s real quiet, doesn’t talk much. Not at all if he can help it. But I think he’s lonely.” 

Lonely? Astrid wondered. Did a creature like that actually have feelings? 

That was a rather cruel thought, considering the Rider had been completely harmless for years now. 

“Yes,” Gobber continued. “Some days, he lets his horse out back to graze and then just sits and keeps me company. I’ve even taught him a thing or two about smithin’. ‘E seems to like it.” 

Sven scoffed. “Teaching the devil how to make weapons? You’re daft! Daft I say!” 

“Oh like his horse couldn’t kill a bear with a single swipe!” Gobber waved him off. “He has a talent for it too. I think at one point, he may have had some skills! But…whatever happened to make him this way, it’s stolen life and memories from him.” 

“He used to be someone?” Astrid asked, horrified. 

Gobber shrugged. “At least I think so. That, or he just popped out of the ground one day, like a very scary tulip.” 

Gobber had to have such a unique perspective on the Rider to describe him as a ‘Tulip’. 

Astrid decided she also didn’t want to live in fear. Her life had been a hard one, personally. Her childhood wasn’t so bad, but after the death of her father, it seemed like the blows kept coming. 

If she could have the peace of mind that this monster was nothing like the childhood stories, that was one less thing to worry about. 

Near noon the next day, Astrid went over to Gobber’s shop. 

He seemed somewhat surprised to see her there. “Astrid? Uh…how can I help you, lass? Are you here to pick something up for ye mum?” 

“I would like two pounds of stew beef, please.” 

“‘A course. It’ll take me a moment to cut that up. But I’ll have it all ready for you if ya want ta come back later.” 

Astrid frowned. “But can I not just wait here?” 

“Sure,” he chuckled. “But the Rider will be here any moment.” 

“So?” She crossed her arms. “He can wait his turn.” 

Gobber barked a loud laugh and wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh that’s a good one. He’d love to hear that! Nothing says ‘part of the village’ like having to wait yer turn at the shops, eh?” 

The telltale shush fell over the village from outside, and Astrid heard the caws of several ravens. Goosebumps raised on her flesh, and she started shaking, but she refused to leave. 

“This’ll be interestin’…” Gobber said darkly, a little grin on his face. 

The clack of horse hooves outside told her all she needed to know. She had but a few seconds to dart out the back now. 

But no, she was determined to see this through. 

The Rider bowed, entering the little shop, before raising up to his full height. He was even more terrifying close up. His black cloak almost seemed to emit smoke. 

His horse sniffed her, embers flying out its nose. 

Astrid stood still, petrified, and unmoving as two sets of acid green eyes stared at her. 

Gobber cut the tension with a razor sharp knife. “Afternoon lad! What can I do for you today?” 

The Rider whipped his gaze back to Gobber, silent for a moment. Then he dismounted his horse. 

He was still tall. Maybe two feet taller than her. But he was thin and gangly. He leaned to one side, and Astrid could now see that he only had one leg. One side wore greaves made of a dark metal, while the other leg was made of twisted black wood. 

Once off, the horse walked past her, leisurely making its way to the back pen, and snacking on grass. 

Astrid only now noticed the singed spots of grass out there, as the grass smoldered under the horses hooves. 

The Rider just stood there, not saying a thing, but staring at her. 

“Well lass, guess I’ll get that beef cut for you,” said Gobber. “You’ll have to wait, Rider. She’s ahead of you in line!” He laughed. 

Astrid swallowed hard, and then raised her hand to the apparition. “Hello, I’m Astrid Hofferson,” she spoke, perhaps louder than intended. But her voice trembled mightily. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The Rider tilted his head, then looked down at her hand. 

“Ohhh,” said Gobber. 

“What?” Astrid panicked. “Should I not have offered to shake his hand?” 

Before she could change her mind, fingers as cold as ice wrapped around her hand and squeezed. She looked down, searing the image into her mind. His hands were dark gray and shiny, like they were covered in graphite, and then slowly turned dark blue down at his fingertips. His nails were long, black, and pointed, almost like claws. He squeezed, sending a ripple of tingling energy up her arm. 

“You…” he spoke, his voice deep and gravelly, like it hadn’t been used in years. But there was a nasally quality that threw her off. Almost made him sound more human. “...are not afraid of me?” 

Oh she was. She was a hair away from crying, but she just smiled back and said, “should I be?” 

He shook his head. 

A wave of relief went through her as she sighed.

“At least,” he added. “Not now.” Then he released her hand. 

The hair on the back of her head raised, but she did her best to just appear calm, cool, and collected. 

The Rider turned to Gobber. “I will wait.” 

“Alrighty! I’ll be right back with that beef! It’s in the cold storage,” he threw a thumb over his shoulder and headed into the back. 

Astrid wanted to protest and ask him to wait and help the Rider first. She desperately didn’t want to be alone with him! 

But words stilled on her lips and Gobber was gone. 

Silence stretched between them as Astrid awkwardly raised her arms to hug herself. “Uh…” She began. “I never got your name.” 

He was quiet, and Astrid thought he wouldn’t answer, but ultimately he said, “I don’t remember it. Rider is fine.” 

Her heart flipped, a pang of another emotion than fear finally making itself known. “You don’t remember your name?” 

He shook his head. “Or many things. A result of…” he raised his hands, then gestured to himself. 

“Are you cursed?” 

He glanced her way, and though she couldn’t see his expression, she could feel his eyes boring into her, like she had asked a really stupid question. “Yes.” 

“Ah.” She cleared her throat. “Do you…remember your horse’s name?” 

“Toothless,” he said easily, no hesitation.

Astrid looked out to the pen, studying the horse. The only horse she had seen with more teeth than could fit in its mouth. “Oh, it’s an ironic name, right?” 

He bowed his head, thinking. “When I met him…he…could retract them.” 

“So he’s also cursed? Package deal sort of thing?” 

“Yes.” 

“I see…” she gnawed on her lip. “He seems pretty well trained.” 

“Yes.” 

Now it was getting awkward. She had questions for him, but wasn’t sure if this meeting was the proper place to ask them. Maybe she could come back, gain some confidence, lull him into a sense of friendship and security like Gobber had. 

“Here we are!” Gobber announced, slab of beef in hand. He wrapped it up in paper, and rang it up. “One silver piece please.” 

“Gobber, you’re undercharging me,” she stated, with a frown. 

“Maybe a little, but I know money is tight for you an’ yur mum. It’s no big deal.” 

Her face heated. “We’re getting by just fine, Gobber. The floral business is doing well.” 

Gobber sighed. “Fine, two silver pieces.” 

As she took out her coin purse, the ice gray hand deposited two silver coins on the counter. 

Astrid whipped her head to look at him. “You…you really don’t need to do that. I’d really prefer not to be in debt to people.” 

“I owe you,” he stated firmly. “For your kindness.” 

Astrid felt that lurch in her chest again. “You don’t owe me for that. Certainly not two silver pieces.” 

“Please,” he said softly, almost a lilt. “Let me.” 

Who was Astrid to deny the Pale Rider of anything? “I suppose…thank you.” 

He hummed, scooting the coins towards Gobber. 

“Oh a lad paying for a lass’s groceries? How sweet!” 

Astrid didn’t know how to express the very clear doubt she had about this ‘lad’. It was fair that the Rider had good intentions, but making any sort of romantic insinuation about it was just plain unfair. And wrong. 

Astrid took the package and backed away from the counter, allowing the Rider room. But she didn’t leave. Not yet. 

“And for you, Rider? What’ll it be?” 

“Chicken. Alive.” 

Gobber swallowed. “A…live chicken? Well, sure. Egg layer?” 

“Whichever has the most personality.” 

Astrid’s skin crawled. What was that supposed to mean? 

“Why don’t we go look at them, and you can choose?” He pointed outside, where the horse was grazing. 

The Rider listed to the side and walked with a shambling gait towards the back door. 

Astrid tiptoed after, just watching with a bit of horror and a lot of curiosity. 

Gobber gave the Rider a handful of chicken feed and stepped back. 

In turn, the Rider sprinkled the feed at his feet, and waited. 

One lone chicken was either brave enough or stupid enough to approach the Rider and started feasting. 

He watched it for a moment, then stated, “That one will do.” 

“Alright, I can get a box for her? Or if you want to just carry her by the feet—“ 

The Rider scooped the chicken up with both hands, awkwardly, like he had never held a chicken before. He tucked the bird under his arm and beckoned his horse over. 

Then he shoved the chicken in his saddle bag, rather roughly, with a flurry of feathers cascading down around him. 

“How much?” The Rider then asked. 

“Oh, five silver, please.” 

The Rider deposited the coin in the man’s hand, and then began to lead his horse back inside. 

Astrid scrambled back, standing in the corner, and pretending not to have watched. 

He led Toothless through the forge, nodding his head at her as he passed. Then he mounted up once outside, and departed.  

Astrid rushed to the counter. “What is he doing with that chicken?!” She asked, horrified. 

“Lass, I can’t begin to know.” 

“Is he going to torture it or something? Why did he want one with a personality?! That’s so creepy!” 

“Maybe he likes fresh eggs in the morning. I know I do.” 

“Gobber! You know damn well that’s not what he wants.” 

Gobber shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know what he’s up to.” 

“But you know him better than anyone!” 

“Aye, but that’s not saying much. In three years, I’ve only learned scant little things about him. I didn’t know the name of his horse! I was never brave enough to ask him!” 

“Really?” 

“Of course! I thought for certain the name was going to be something so ancient that it made your ears bleed when he spoke. But Toothless? Never saw one coming.” 

Astrid went to the front door and peaked out, wondering if she’d catch a glimpse of the Rider retreating. 

But he was gone. Just as he came, he was gone.

[sarnai4]

Appreciation

I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has been checking out "Son Swap!" Today, it just reached 100 kudos on AO3 and is my first story to ever hit that. Thanks so much for reading! 🤗🤗🤗❤️❤️!!

Below is a link to the latest chapter. One more to go after this!