Fan-Fiction Contest Entry #8: Wedding Chairs

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victoriae350's picture
Supreme Viking Champion
Joined: 09/22/2014







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Rovena Cousland || Asiya || Arwen Lavellan || Imogen Trevelyan



Ailith Hawke (c Arrow)




Rosie Catherine Chattaway (c Arrow)



Amanda Bardsley [no picture available at this time]

victoriae350's picture
Supreme Viking Champion
Joined: 09/22/2014

Ruby smashed through the front door of her hut, letting it bang against the wall and making a beeline straight for her workbench. A crowbar, she needed a crowbar.


“Ru, slow down and shut the door!” called her sister. “How am I supposed to get this cake done with the wind blowing flour all over?”


Ruby pulled out a drawer. There was the crowbar, right where she always kept it. “No time!” Offering no further explanation, she grabbed the crowbar and hurried out of the hut again, slamming the door.


The wind whipped the strands escaping from Ruby’s short, brown-black braid into her face. She raced down the village paths, not bothering to apologize to the people she nearly ran over in her haste. Why stop? Ru had a deadline. Surely, making the finest set of rocking chairs possible for the chief’s wedding gift was worth a few disgruntled villagers.


And they had been fine chairs, if she did say so herself. Key word: had. Stupid freak windstorm.


Ru slowed a bit as she approached the woodworking shop where she worked as her father’s apprentice. A tree lay across one crushed corner. It was, of course, the corner she'd put the chairs in yesterday. Four corners the tree could have fallen on, and it had to be THAT one. Now a weeks’ work and the best wood she had were completely wasted.


“Maybe not totally wasted,” Ru muttered. She knelt and stuck the crowbar under the tree and began prying out what was left of the chairs. Some of the wood had to still be useable. Her crowbar touched something soft.




Ru jumped back in surprise, squeaking slightly as well.


A dusty purple Terrible Terror emerged from under the fallen tree, yawning and shaking himself.


“Dart, what in Odin’s name are you doing?”


The Terror blew a small, indignant fireball into the dirt. He had been napping, of course. What business did his girl have poking him?


“Don't be sulky. You're lucky you weren't killed!” Ru tried to hug the cross little dragon, but Dart just scampered into the corner and pouted.


Ru chuckled. “Fine.” She grabbed a chair leg and slowly wiggled it free, tossing it into the pile of salvageable pieces. “This could be worse. I can refinish the seats, rockers and backs. ‘Fraid these legs are done for, though.”


Twenty minutes later, Ru had moved everything she needed tidily into the not-destroyed half of the shop. Dart had quickly tired of being grumpy, and now flew on to Ruby’s shoulder, licking her face insistently.


Ru shoved him off onto the floor. “C’mon, I've got work. Can't you get your own breakfast?”


Dart gnawed on her boot.




Ru rolled her eyes. “I’m only getting enough fish to keep you from bothering me.”


Dart wiggled happily. He knew with Ruby, the word “fish” meant “twelve-course fish dinner”, no matter how cross she pretended to be.





The next evening was non-stop celebration from the end of the wedding ceremony until dawn. Vikings couldn't have a small party if they tried, and hey, Chief Hiccup and General Hofferson were getting hitched! Could there be better reason to celebrate?


Everyone in the village wanted to give their gift in person, to wish the newlyweds well and see their happiness. For this purpose they formed a long line before Hiccup and Astrid’s seat, piling gifts either useful or just plain weird depending on the giver.


There was a set of embroidered dish towels from Mrs. Jorgenson, a bouquet from Astrid’s little cousin, a pair of sheep from Silent Sven, and a matching set of heirloom swords from Gobber (you can never have too many swords, he claimed, wiping his eyes. Weddings always made him cry.) Phlegma the Fierce brought an enormous bag of seeds. Even Meatlug came forward, happily dropping a slobbery piece of granite at Astrid’s feet.


“Er... thanks, Tuff,” said Hiccup. “This fossilized boar-dropping centerpiece is probably the most... interesting... thing we’ve gotten tonight.” He gingerly picked it up and placed it off to the side. Astrid wrinkled her nose.


“Anything for the happy couple.” Tuffnut bowed theatrically and stepped aside.


Ru came forward with the two chairs in a wheelbarrow. “Made ‘em myself,” she grinned, dumping them on the floor. “See? Nice and sturdy this time. Good luck with the marriage!” And she skipped off without waiting for a response.


“Look, Hiccup,” said Astrid. “My axe is carved on the back of this one. And that one has a dragon. Isn't that thoughtful?”


Hiccup nodded abstractly. He was trying to figure out a way to escape long enough to wash his hands after Tuff’s gift.


On the other side of the hall, Ruby smiled. The extra touches had been worth it, they always were. Nothing better than a little extra to make someone's day. She stole a piece of wedding cake off the plate of someone who wasn't paying attention and sauntered off to find Dart.