"Thorfinn," I muttered, it felt like that was right. "My name is Thorfinn."
"Thorfinn, huh," Gobber said, stroking his blonde mustache thoughtfully. "That's a pretty good name. Strong too, like a proper viking name should be."
"Thanks," I replied quietly, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this was the only thing I could remember about myself.
Before we could continue our conversation, the old woman, slammed her wooden cane against the floorboard with surprising force and pointed determinedly at the door. The sound echoed through the room, making me jump slightly.
"Oh, and this old lass is Gothi, though you can call her what she is - an Old Bat, hahaha!" Gobber laughed heartily, his whole body shaking with mirth. I glanced nervously at Gothi, expecting her to wallop him with her cane again, but to my surprise, she merely rolled her eyes, looks like even she got tired of Gobber for some reason.
Carefully, I pulled my legs out from under the warm furs of the bed, keeping my head lowered as I tested my strength. The wooden floorboards felt cold against my bare feet.
"Thank you, Gothi," I said softly, still staring at the floor. Just as I was about to lift my head, I felt something gentle touch my hair.
A wrinkled hand.
The touch was incredibly comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold day. As I continued to stare at the floor, I noticed something dark dripping onto the wood. Confused, I brought my hand to my face, feeling warm tears slowly trickling down my cheeks. I tried to sniffle them back up but I couldn't stop them - they just kept falling as Gothi continued to run her weathered fingers through my hair with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
The action felt familiar, I wanted to remember but as I did so, the screams started to murmur again and my chest began to burn so I forced myself to stop. I didn't want to feel that again, no matter what.
When Gothi finally stopped her comforting gesture, I looked up to find Gobber watching me with an uncomfortable expression. The old healer made her way back upstairs, her cane tapping against each step, but not before pointing at the door one final time.
Gobber scratched his cheek awkwardly with his good hand before speaking. "So, do you remember anything else aside from your name? Parents? Where you're from? How you ended up on our shore?"
I shook my head slowly.
"Great," Gobber said, shaking his head with a sigh. "Then I guess there is no other way to go about this - you're staying with me for now. You okay with that?"
I nodded, not entirely sure how to feel about it. True, I didn't really know him, but he had helped me when he found me on the beach, and weirdly enough I didn't feel turned off by his demeanor, he seemed like a good person and I had no reason not to trust him.
"Can you walk?" he asked, eyeing my skinny legs dubiously.
I nodded again, more confident than I should have been. I placed my hand on the edge of the headboard to help myself up, but as soon as I put pressure on my legs, they buckled beneath me like wet parchment.
I braced myself for the impact with the floor, but strong arms (well arm and a mace) caught me before I could fall - Gobber had moved surprisingly fast for someone with a peg leg.
"Guess not," he said with a small smile that made his mustache twitch. He turned around and gestured to his back. "Come on then, get to it. Can't have you crawling around Berk now can I."
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he hoisted me up with his good hand and mace, adjusting me until I was secure. His gait was a bit uneven because of the peg leg, but it felt safe enough. When we stepped outside, I couldn't help but gasp at what I saw.
"Welcome to Berk, Thorfinn, your new home for the foreseeable future," Gobber announced proudly.
The village was breathtaking. Massive wooden houses with intricate carvings dotted the hillsides, connected by wooden walkways and bridges that seemed to defy gravity. Enormous torches stood at different points, though they weren't lit yet as it was daytime. Catapults and trebuchets lined the cliffs, ready to defend against whatever threats might come. I didn't question how I knew what these weapons were called - the knowledge was just there, even if everything else was missing.
Vikings of all sizes went about their daily business, some carrying weapons, others hauling fish or lumber. Children ran between the houses, playing some game that involved a lot of shouting and pretend sword-fighting.
"Hey Gobber!"
"Who's the little one?!"
People called out as we passed, their voices full of curiosity. Women, men, and children approached Gobber frequently, asking about me, but he just kept quiet while offering them cheerful good mornings. Finally, we entered a house that seemed to be bursting at the seams with half-finished projects.
The interior could be described with just one word, cluttered, if I had to describe it in three it would be, cluttered beyond belief - weapons in various stages of completion hung from the walls, prosthetics of all shapes and sizes were scattered across workbenches, and wooden statues stood guard in corners.
Gobber set me down carefully on a sturdy chair before stretching his back with a loud crack.
"Am I seriously getting old? I'm just 35, maybe it's because of all the fighting." He glanced back at me, noting my silent observation. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"
I shook my head, unconsciously pulling my legs up to my chest.
"Well then, I don't really have a proper room for you, but I guess I can build another bed. Until then you'll sleep in mine - I don't really fancy having a five year old- wait, are you five? You look about five." He squinted at me assessingly.
I shrugged my shoulders, feeling bad that I couldn't even answer such a simple question.
"Meh, I say you're five," he decided with a wave of his mace hand. "I don't fancy having a five-year-old sleeping on a sofa, especially not one as bony as you. Thor's hammer, we really need to fatten you up - you look more skeletal than a Boneknapper."
"Boneknapper?" I asked, curiosity finally overcoming my shyness.
"A type of dragon," Gobber explained, his eyes lighting up. "In fact, one tried to steal my belt buckle if you would believe it! But don't you worry about that now. What we need to focus on is getting some meat on those bones. What do you want to eat?"
"Meat?" I suggested timidly, my stomach growling at the thought.
"Mmm, meat, meat is good. I'll go see if I can get some goat from the butcher. Until then, stay here and don't touch anything sharp." He waggled his finger at me in what he probably thought was a stern manner, but his twitching mustache gave away his amusement.
After Gobber left, I found myself alone in the cluttered house. Boredom quickly set in, and I decided to try walking again. Gripping the edge of my seat, I slowly transferred more and more weight onto my legs. My first step was wobbly, and I quickly grabbed onto one of the nearby tables for support. Slowly but surely, I made my way around it, going in circles until my legs began to feel stronger.
With each circuit, I needed less time between steps and relied less on the table for support. My confidence growing, I ventured toward another table piled high with books. One particular volume caught my eye - its cover decorated with an intricate illustration of a lizard-like creature in a spiral pattern.
Opening it carefully, I discovered writing that I could somehow understand perfectly.
Dragon Classifications
Strike Class (page 1-19)
Stoker Class (page 19-39)
Boulder Class (page 40-59)
Fear Class (page 60-73)
Sharp Class (page 73-92)
Tidal Class (page 92-109)
Mystery Class (page 109-134)
Fascinated, I turned to a random page and began to read.
Skrill
The Skrill is one of the more reclusive dragons, preferring an isolated life in high mountain peaks or coastal cliffs that rise directly from the sea. Size: over 12 meters. They possess the unique ability to summon lightning, channeling it into devastating electrical blasts. The spiny Skrill attacks with balls of lightning more powerful than any natural storm. One of the fastest known flyers, making escape impossible. Extremely dangerous - kill on sight.
I continued turning pages, absorbing every detail about each dragon, until I reached a particular entry that made me pause.
Night Fury
Just as I was about to begin reading, Gobber's voice boomed through the house.
"I'm home, lad! Come on, let's get some food-" He stopped short when he saw me standing with the book. "Huh, you can walk already? That's good! And reading the Manual of Dragons, eh? Looks like we have a proper dragon killer in the making!"
I quickly closed the book and placed it back on the table, feeling oddly guilty. "Sorry."
"No need to worry, lad," Gobber assured me, setting down a wrapped package that smelled like raw liver, which now thinking about it could very well have been. "Every Viking needs to know that book by heart. Now come on, let's fatten you up properly!"
He patted his own substantial belly with his good hand. "Though maybe I should stop fattening myself up quite so much, hahaha!"