Around now, back on Berk, it would have been time to start harvesting whatever the rough earth had let them grow. It wouldn't have been much, a lot of small, scrubby plants, and none of them tasty, but it would have kept them alive, and that was always worth being thankful for. The affair would have been pretty plain, a slightly larger bonfire, a
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Hester knew nothing of Hiccup's religion, and she was not very religious herself (apart from a few prayers spoken when death seemed imminent), but she knew a ritual when she saw one. She stood back and watched in respectful silence.
Still, when he was done, she couldn't resist chiding him a little. "Very nice," she said. "It still seems like bit of a waste of good fruit, though."
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"We'd normally have a festival at home. Or, well, what passed for one here."
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"How's the sword?"
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