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Since Garffiljorg had settled on the edge, his presence had been an ordeal, requiring the musical efforts of mostly untalented people.
And when Garf demanded, Fishlegs took upon him to entertain him.
He could play the flute pipe, so, when his turn to babysit Garf came, he resorted to this skill.
Normally his gentle nature would alone soothe the dragons he cared for, the flute’s sound matching his nature.
Unfortunately, he had a demanding audience.
As soon as he started playing, Garf began to shoot his amber towards both Meatlug and Fishlegs, an action that could’ve been playful towards an equally armed hatchling. Not so much for an unprotected human.
Fishlegs tried to dodge the amber. He tried.
coming near to the end of his song he knew Garf would expect more.
His legs and helmet were already covered in amber.
He took a big breath to resume playing immediately and in that brief pause Garffiljorg shot again, this time in the direction of Fishlegs’ face, sending the liquid amber through his flute’s pipes.
Immediately after Fishlegs had the vitreous substance lodged in the back of his mouth and throat. He started coughing, seeing bloody pieces of amber coming out.
At this point he had already thrown his flute to the ground.
He was the healer of the Edge, having learned directly from Gothi, however it would have been impossible for him to operate on himself without being able to see himself, besides, the pain made him want to drink.
He ran to the clubhouse.
Fortunately, Hiccup was already there.
Fishlegs ran towards him, clearly pointing at his throat, gaining Hiccup’s complete attention.
“What’s happening? Are-are you hurt?”
Unable to answer, Fishlegs just nodded and then showed a sharp piece of amber covered in blood.
“OH-” Fishlegs showed the inside of his still bleeding mouth. “-OH FUCK! Oh gods, ok, so, it’s in your throat, the amber?”
Fishlegs nodded.
“I’m getting tweezers. And ale.”
The items were already in the clubhouse.
“I should have thought this through, you can’t drink, of course, you’d swallow the amber, but I have tweezers and determination.”
Fishlegs made a sign to stop with trifles.
“Ok, sorry, I better hurry.”
Hiccup made him lie down to keep him from moving too much from the pain and sat next to his head.
He used his right thumb and forefinger as a mouth opener, holding the tweezers in his dominant hand.
Hiccup didn’t like being vice-healer because of his aversion to seeing people suffering, but managed to get all the pieces of amber out.
Fishlegs showed him how to disinfect an internal wound.
They both looked distressed. Hiccup kneeled with his hands on his thighs, the tools still not stowed.
“Your vocal cords are permanently damaged”
Knowing his words would come out hoarse and hurtful, Fishlegs chose silence.