Heir Of Berk | A HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON FANFICTION |

Five | Storms

Hey guys sorry for the hiatus. I have been working on my other fic, No Turning Back. But I decided to update this fic because I suddenly got inspired after watching some httyd videos  and also I found music that matches this story.

Anyway, this chapter has a lot of angst and so many feels. it is quite long. I hope you will like it

-JenniferTjandrajana

       

"I'm telling you, me house is destroyed from last night's storm,"

For the last twenty minutes, Mildew complained to Gobber about his damaged home.

It was already past lunch time, and Gobber sat impatiently at the forge absentmindedly listening to the old man's complaints.

Though, his mind was set on going to the Great Hall to get something to eat. He was starving and if he had to listen to Mildew's irritated voice, he was going to explode.

Honestly, there was nothing he could do about the old man's damaged home.

The village despised Mildew because he was always the only to make complaints about every trivial thing. Hearing his voice drove the villagers insane.

Despite moving him away from the village, that didn't stop the old man from coming to the village to whine about things people hardly care about.

"Believe me, you're not the only one whose house got destroyed," Gobber said, pulling out of his stool, "But there's nothing I can do,"

Mildew gaped at the blacksmith with disbelief.

"What? Where's the decent customer service when you need it?" He fumed, following after the blacksmith, "Me house is hardly liveable! Have you no sympathy for a poor, frail, old man? Where's the compassionate when you need it?" he spat to the ground in disgust, "Some customer service,"

Gobber gave a snort, "No can do, Mildew. Go fix your home yourself. I'm not a handy man, you know,"

"But you mend weapons," Mildew shot back, "Now; fixing a home wouldn't be too difficult if you can fix weapons,"

Gobber heaved a sigh, "I'm a blacksmith. Not a home repairer. There is a difference,"

Mildew narrowed his cold blue eyes. He muttered something hastily to himself. Though, it was loud enough for Gobber to hear.

"What about my cabbage? My cabbage is destroyed!" Mildew fumed, not giving up until he gained decent customer service. "I need my home fixed! A frail old man can't do that himself!"

Sighing, Gobber rubbed his temple, sensing a headache coming on.

He was going to regret helping Mildew. But at least it might shut up the old man once and for all.

"Oh, Odin, what am I going to do with you," Gobber muttered to himself, "Fine. I'll see what I can do. But I don't want to hear another-''

"Gobber!" The blacksmith was cut off by a familiar voice.

Turning around, Gobber found the Berk Chieftain, and childhood friend, Stoick walking towards the forge.

The Chief's face was worn out; as if the day's work had drained on him that it left little life in him.

Gobber sense the chief had so much on his plate. Then again, when you're the chief of a village, you had to deal with stopping disputes between fellow Vikings, check the village still had livestock to survive through the winter and help repair homes destroyed. Of course, he would need to deal with civil matters from the villagers too.