55. Convince the trader

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"How do I manage to get myself into these situations? I'm a man of many talents, and tales, but espionage is not one of them,"  the wonderings were of Trader Johann as he fixed the sails on his ship out on the open sea before the dawn.

The merchant ship had been out on the waters for a good two weeks since his arrival at the island of Berk to conduct business as usual. Johann had been visiting the Hooligan Tribe in rising frequency since its slow downfall over the eight years the young Haddock heir had vanished. Increased commerce with decreased cost bordering on charity was Johann's way of offering condolences for the loss of who he always believed to be a promising ruler. His foreign wares were a joy to the villagers, bringing back their optimistic spirits that had been worn down over time with consequence. To say old Johann was surprised to see Stoick in front of a crowd of Vikings with little to offer but grim faces when he had docked was quite the understatement.

The two sat facing one another at the table of the Great Hall amidst a forest of tall and weary Vikings, dimly lit with a sparse amount of torches. Winter air filtered in from an abundant number of holes and cracks in the walls and doors, making goosebumps rise from even under his stocked sailor's clothing. Johann had seen the subsidence of the once proud village of Berk with his own eyes, but even he could not abstain from observing the destitute state of it all up close.

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"Johann, you have always been a welcome presence to Berk, and I would not ask this of you if there was another way..." Stoick had practically begged without even the dignity to look at him in the eye. A testament, Johann had figured, to his fall from pride. "But that is the simple truth – there isn't."

"So Master Hiccup is truly alive..." He mused. "This 'Selardalr,' – I've sailed across miles of ocean, visited nearly every island in the Archipelago, and I dare say I've never heard of such an island."

"Aye, you won' find selardalr on most maps nowadays." Gobber added. "The Silent Wolf keep ta themselves mostly, have even when the war was still goin' on."

"I'd wanna hide ma face too if I went 'n betrayed everything Vikings hold sacred." Spitelout muttered.

"Yes, about that, this... 'Dragon Whisperer' business, in my experience sounds a bit-"

"Stupid?" Snotlout barked.

"Crazy?" Ruffnut added.

"AWESOME!?" Tuffnut shouted.

"All of the above... except for that last one, of course. In fact, it reminds me of the time a merchant acquaintance of mine – mind you before he got into the trading business he was something of an explorer. Well, when he was a young man, he had sailed to a far off corner of the ocean. Off on the trail of a rumor of treasure buried on an island in that region; well, he was keeping' his sails steady, on the proper course, when suddenly out of the water came a razor-toothed eel the size of a-"

"JOHANN!" Stoick exasperatedly slammed his fist on the table. "My son is chaining himself to that island to preserve a heretic's paradise! We need your help to shake these ridiculous notions of peace with dragons out of him and get him back here!"

"And what am I supposed to do? If he won't listen to you, what says my words will make any more the difference?"

"Sadly, my immature son is beyond words. We need you to go and spy on them, find any weaknesses, anything we can use as leverage."

"Hardly the Viking approach as far as I'm acquiesced. Why not just give them the full strength of Berk 'n storm the island?" Johann asked.

"Hiccup has DRAGONS on his side!" Stoick exclaimed. "A whole island of 'em and their riders! We could equip every able bodied man, woman, and child-!

"An' Mildew..." Gobber added before being silenced with Stoick's glare in his direction. The old man himself just huffed from the back of the crowd while his wooly cohort Fungus the sheep gave an irritated bleat.

"-An' we'd still be slaughtered!"

"Besides, we've already explored that option," Fishlegs continued with a poignant finger raised. "And I for one am not of the mental or emotional fortitude to try that again."

"Fortitude?" Tuffnut asked.

"It means to possess a certain moral fiber, to have courage in pain or adversity." Ruffnut defined for him smugly.

"It does not! Do you always have to make up definitions?"

"Please! I happened to have gotten the good looks and the brains in the family!"

"Don't forget the issues..."

"That, I'm afraid, is something we both got. Of course you got, like, 85 percent."

"Yes, yes I did, and I am very proud of my 85 percent. 85 is the prime share of the gene pool pie, which is totally delicious, and tastes like blueberry, and includes masochism, sadism, uhhh... breaking-stuff-ism, and well... well a bunch of other –isms!"

"But why me?!" Johann had asked. "I mean, certainly, there have been few times where we've actually spoken but won't young Master Hiccup still recognize me?"

"Yes, but that's exactly it, you haven't interacted often. You weren't part of what's made him so angry, so odds are he won't hold anythin' against you!"

"So you're sending me to a dragon-infested island to die on the off chance I'll spot a chink in the armor, a crack in the foundation? Simply because I might be on speaking terms with him?" Johann asked nervously. "Chief Stoick, h-have I not been good to Berk, to the people of Berk, have I not been an-an asset to you in these times of misfortune? I beg of you, for all that is sacred in Midgard, don't-"

"PLEASE!"

The voice was ragged and weary, unfit to belong to anyone in this crowd who in self-respect gave themselves the title of Viking. Johann turned to the source of the voice to find a bedraggled Astrid out of a parted group of her friends, her silky golden locks frayed and heavy bags under her reddened eyes. Like the disgraced chief of Berk he faced with reluctance a second ago, she too could barely bring herself to raise her head and make eye contact in the same pleading manner. In all his years of travels and his many acclaimed experiences, Johann could say he knew what might have brought forth this degrading look in the shield-maiden, and it left his own heart with the greatest of pities.

"You're a trader, so we can't expect you to understand what it's like to lose something irreplaceable. But if you don't do this, it really will be the end of Berk! We don't know how much longer we can last even with your help. Please, just please, help us get him back!"

The way her voice cracked and how she choked on her own words really got to the old merchant. Not even in any of his lengthy tales could he recall the overwhelming feeling that came with the loss of something valuable. Such emotions didn't come with the job – in that way, he always figured himself similar to the Vikings who did not let emotions rule them. He'd always noticed the ties between the missing heir Hiccup and these same people all around him to be weak, but perhaps he had been mistaken. And if he could help repair those bonds, well...

With a sign, he gave in.

"Fine, but I'm afraid I'll have to put down my foot somewhere in this bargain of ours. I'll not be wrecking my own ship so as to feign being marooned! And it WILL affect our own business if any of this affects my schedule!"

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"Oh... I'm going to die. I'll die. I will DEFINITELY die," he mumbled out loud, staring at the island now coming into his sights with the rise of the sun.

Johann could already feel the teeth of the dragons clamping onto him tighter with every step as he made his way to the wheel at the back of his ship. In accordance with the marked map he had received from Stoick, his ship had managed to stay the course and it was no doubt Selardalr awaiting him. He quickly pulled out another paper from his pocket, a list of detailed instructions by the Berkians:

'1. Don't mention anything about spying. (As if it took a sage to figure that one out).

2. Steer clear of the dragons. (He'd be sure to do that).

3. Find out anything we can use against the Bone Heads.

4. Try to stay no longer than three days.

5. Dispose of this paper before getting to Selardalr.'

With another look to the imposing landmass drawing ever closer and a steadying inhale of air, Johann took both the list and map and frantically tore them into shreds. He tossed them into the air over the edge of his ship where the winds blew the bits of paper away into oblivion's grasp, without ever a trace that they might have existed. Even clearing himself from proof of subterfuge, however, did little to calm the thunderous pulsations of his heart about ready to break from his chest.

The trader then pulled out his own map and a charcoal pencil and made wild, nonsensical marks all over the parchment, as if to confirm he'd lost his way. He'd needed no sleight of hand to guide the pencil all over the map to give the impression of a sailor lost at sea. Giving one final look to the docks only a couple of miles away, every hair on his body up to the hairs on his mustache stood on end.

"Instead death, Here I come.."

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~~TO BE CONTINUED~~