Tip the Dragon Scales

Chapter 2

"Come on, Gothi," Ragnar says, pestle never stopping its practiced rhythm as he grinds up another medicinal plant. "I mean, Gobber can't be that bad of a teacher."

She gives him a pointed look before she goes back to stirring a small pot hanging over the fire.

"Really?" he asks skeptically, easily hearing everything she doesn't actually say. "He did that?"

Gothi nods with a slight smirk pulling at her lips.

He groans. "Odin help us all," he mutters. "We'll be out of bandages and salves in a week just from the twins trying to fight dragons."

She taps the spoon she's stirring with against the side of the pot and gives him another look.

Ragnar sighs. "You're right," he agrees as he drops the pestle and brings the mortar over to the fire. "Snotlout will be just as bad."

He starts to pour the ground plant into the pot a little bit at a time while Gothi stirs. They both hear the hut's door open, but neither of them looks away from their work.

"Evening, Chief," Ragnar calls still without ever looking.

Stoick pauses, always a bit thrown off by the way Ragnar just seems to know things. "Ah, evening," he returns. "I was wondering if you might have a moment, Ragnar?"

He phrases it like a question for all they know it's not.

Ragnar clicks his tongue as he empties the mortar and turns to drop it back on the table where it belongs. "Another search for the nest?" he asks knowingly.

Stoick nods. "One more search before the ice sets."

Ragnar frowns at him. "Not to be questioning you, Chief, but are you sure-"

He cuts off as he falls completely still and his blue eyes turn hazy, the hint of gray more pronounced like a film is covering them. Flashes of images race through his mind at a dizzying speed.

A ship with Hooligan sails. Dark ocean waters. Dragons. Roars. Battle cries. A damaged hull. Berk's dock.

Ragnar stumbles slightly as he comes back to the present. He blinks the film from his eyes and looks down when he feels a familiar hand grip his arm to steady him.

"I'm alright, Gothi," he tells her, smiling when she narrows her eyes and seems to check if he's lying to her or not. "Promise," he adds.

Gothi tugs on his arm, silently pleased when he bends to her height without protest. She studies his eyes for a long moment and only lets go when she's certain he's back.

Stoick clears his throat uncomfortably when he sees the vision has passed. He respects the boy's seidr- there is no other choice, really- but it always unnerves him to see the way he suddenly falls into another place and time.

If he's completely honest with himself, part of the reason is because he can't protect the boy from whatever he might See. A chief protects his own and he hates knowing there's nothing he can do about it, especially when he also knows Ragnar is his son's best friend.

The other part of the reason is because of how dangerous it is in general. Sure, the rest of the tribe suspects Ragnar is a seer, but he knows to never actually confirm it. If word were to ever get out there's no telling what trouble might show up on their shores.

Ragnar shakes his head and turns to the chief. "You can sail. You won't find the nest," he adds, anticipating the coming question, "but we'll be one step closer to ending this war."