Talking with Hiccup was a nice restart to my life. He said his father was a chief on Berk, and he showed me the symbol he had from his home. I recognized it. The pattern was inscribed in the Tome of Trades, and I remembered that I had it tucked away in the cellar before I fled. Four hundred years of knowledge were lost in a single stroke of unfortunate events. I played with Stormfly in the stables, where I spent most of my time. I was stroking a Gronkle when a short, chubby blond boy walked in.
"Who are you?" He jumps back
"I'm Azalea," I said "And I am from the bølgeløper people"
"I've never heard of the Wave Runner people," He asks. I toss him my bracer
"Look at the insignia," I said. He looked at it and tossed it back
"So you're the daughter of the chief," He said. He was a bit more relaxed
"Adopted. My parents got killed in a dragon attack" I slid it back on "And I found out what I can do" I went back to stroking the Gronkle "I speak to dragons in their tongue"
"What?" He asks "Y-You talk to them?"
"Yes" I call out to the Nadder "Scale-kin, this human does not believe me" She reared her head and growled out her response
"That. Is. So. Amazing" He squeals. "I'm Fishlegs"
"Your dragon speaks highly of you," I say "She thinks you give her too much attention, but she loves it"
"Really?" Fishlegs asks
"I do not jest" I smile, and then a black-haired boy astride a Monstrous Nightmare comes in. He swings down from the saddle and walks past us, a smug look on his face
"Hey Heather, I didn't know you were here-" I turn around and face him "You are not Heather," he says
"Thank you for stating the obvious," I say
"His name is Snotlout. Please tell him the saddle is too heavy, Scale-kin" His dragon clicks
"So, Snotlout, why such heavy saddle?" I ask
"How do you know my name?" he asks
"Your dragon told me, dumb-dumb" I tug my braid out and start redoing it "So, why do you have such an elaborate saddle?"
"Because it looks cool" he snorts
"But it causes Hookfang there a large amount of difficulty when flying" I snap, then walk over to him and tug off the saddle. He comes and rubs against me. I stroke his head "Scale-kin, is that better?"
"Yes. So much. Thank you" He clicks
"You have such bright scales," I say "They contrast your horns well"
"Thank you, Scale-kin" I realised the others were watching me
"What?" I ask "Does it matter that I'm having a conversation with Hookfang?"
"No. But I never heard somebody speak like that. In the language of the dragons" Fishlegs squeals "Is there any way we could translate it?"
"I only know it because I was born with the skill. But I can try" I smile
And that is how I ended up talking with Fishlegs for the next two hours. I would say a phrase in Dragon, like "Please stop scorching the grass" and he tried to write it down
"Okay, now I need to address how Dragons greet other dragons. They call each other Scale-kin, no matter the difference. But for a Viking, being called Scale-kin is the greatest honour a Viking can receive from the Dragons. And no Viking has ever achieved it" I lied for the last part.
"The language is so complex. And impossible to pronounce" He says
"Every last detail matters in the dragon language. A higher tone means you're mocking them. A neutral tone is just conversation. Low tones are secrets" I add "And volume too"
"FISHLEGS!" Someone shouts. A blond girl enters "We leave tomorrow. Are you packed?"
"Yes, Astrid, I am packed" Fishlegs huffs "I'm trying to do some important work here with Azalea"
"It's okay, Fishlegs. I covered most of it by now. Getting specific about volume" I shudder "Would take years" I pick myself up, and decide to find a dragon to talk with. I wander over to the stables, and I befriend a small flock of tiny black dragons that are native to the island. They tickle when they buzz their little wings next to me. I miss this, being inside a flock of dragons as they talk amongst themselves. You feel wanted inside one of those.
I sigh as they fly away, screeching something about a big red dragon who scares them. I blink away a few tears as a splash of salty water crashes into the cliffs, and a fine mist lands on me. It's the perfect time to do it. I haven't done it in ages. I pull a few threads and open large slits in my shirt, on my back, and unfold the large, black and purple wings I keep tucked away.
"Oh, I missed this" I sigh, shaking them open, letting them flex away the stiffness. I walk to the edge of the cliff, spread them as wide as I can, and step off. I wait until I'm a few feet away from the rocks before I flap, rocketing upward "WHOO-HOOO!" I scream, letting my instincts take over and focus on the tiny things. The salt encrusted the rocks, smooth pebbles clinging to the paths. I swoop up and down the cliff, perching on rocks to catch my breath when I need to before I return to the thrill of flying.
I land with a few hurried steps, and I frame the flock of dragons flying by with my hand, holding it out. I badly wanted to join them, to feel the love of a family again, to feel wanted in a group. But I can only dream so much.
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The Whisperer
FanfictionAzalea is...Special. She is worshipped by her community as the dragon whisperer, the girl who can speak to the feared killers. Azalea's home is safe, she has what she needs, a community and a family that is safe from the dragons because she tells th...
