Tip the Dragon Scales

Chapter 16

Ragnar starts to give orders even before he sees Hiccup for himself. He knows what an amputation requires and, while the smaller details may vary depending on the wound, the basics stay the same.

In no time at all he has Vikings running around to get him what they can. Ragnar ignores the noise around him as he focuses on the operation ahead. He pulls his medical bag off his back, and kneels at Stoick's side, Hiccup still held in the man's strong arms.

"Lay him down, Chief," Ragnar orders. He's vaguely aware of Toothless crawling closer to his wounded rider. His movements are slow and careful, obviously hurt himself.

Toothless makes a questioning sound, but he has no time to respond. He's too busy pulling supplies from his bag.

Stoick doesn't much care for the idea of letting his son go right now, but he knows he has to. He carefully sets him down on the large, clean cloth Ragnar spreads out.

Ragnar automatically reaches out and presses one hand to Hiccup's cheek while the other covers his forehead. He's warm to the touch, but not fevered. It's a good sign.

He pauses long enough to take a steadying breath before he moves down to his lower half, repeating a single thought to himself the entire time.

He's just a patient. He's just a patient. He's just a patient.

Ragnar closes his eyes for a single heartbeat. He gives himself that long to remember it's his best friend lying injured in front of him before he steels himself and gets to work.

He's just a patient.

Hiccup's right leg is largely uninjured beyond a few scrapes and bruises and a mild burn. His left leg is the priority. At least, what's left of it is.

The foot is gone along with the majority of the calf. Luckily, the wound itself ends nearly five inches below the knee. He'll have to take a couple more off to give him a clean cut, but it bodes well for a future prosthetic.

Ragnar carefully tears away the ragged remains of Hiccup's left pants leg, thankful to see the material didn't melt to his skin when he fell into the flames. He grabs a clean cloth and soaks it in the saltwater he requested and vaguely notices a couple of people lingering nearby, clearly ready to offer whatever aid he may need.

Gently, Ragnar cleans the wound. As he washes away blood and soot and who knows what kind of dirt, he thanks Odin Hiccup is still unconscious.

"How bad is it?" Stoick asks anxiously, wringing his hands in an uncharacteristic (but understandable) show of nerves.

Ragnar doesn't answer, too busy examining the now visible wound. It's jagged around the edges, but not like his leg was caught and twisted as he fell. It actually looks very familiar to anyone who grew up amongst constant dragon raids.

Ragnar looks over at Toothless in realization and feels his heart sink at the way the dragon lowers his eyes like he can't bear to look at him.

"Oh, Toothless," he murmurs. Before he can say any more, his attention is drawn by a familiar figure.

Spitelout steps forward with an axe in hand, face completely serious as he gestures at a few more people standing behind him. "We've got them, Ragnar," he says solemnly. "The sharpest blades here."

Ragnar nods and looks at the chief. "I need you to test them," he tells him. "Bring me the absolute sharpest axe there is."

"Spitelout can test them," he immediately says.

"Chief-"

"I'm not leaving my son."

"Chief-"

"He- he needs me here and-"