The Secret is shared

    After he stashed the bundle, Urso began to close all the shutters on his Windows. Just as he finished, and was about to lock the door, Harla walked in. "So, why so secretive?" She inquired. "I...I don't know what your talking about." Urso answered guiltily. Harla then raised a blonde eyebrow. This motion suddenly made Urso feel like she was looking into his soul. To him, the piercing blue eyes in the girls face were hundreds of times more effective than his glare. He wasn't going to give up though, and so he set his brow down low over his eyes, and glared at her with his angriest eyes of all. He noticed a twitching at the corner of her eye, and smirked in triumph. She was crumbling under the pressure. Finally, she blinked and turned away. "Well it's not quite enough to kill a troll, but that stare of yours sure is potent." She admitted. This brought a grin to Urso's face.    How did he do that? Harla once stared down a wild Dragon in the forest, but her staredown with Urso had left her feeling like he'd singed her eyes out. As soon as the large man wasn't looking, she hurriedly rubbed her eyes. After this was done, she did a double take of her friend. "Did you change clothes?" She asked lamely. Urso turned back from brushing dust out of the fur lined hood on a coat. "I was wondering when someone was going to notice. I was wearing these down at the docks too." This answer made Harla feel stupid. Just thinking back, she realized that he HAD been wearing them. Urso looked big in his mail shirt, but the tunic and vest made him look even bigger. She just shook her head. "That bundle doesn't have anything to do with a certain pair that may be getting married soon, would it?" "Someone's gonna get married?" "Stuff it Urso." "Stuff what?" "The load of bull that you're clumsily trying to shovel off on me. That's something for when Hiccup and Astrid tie the knot." Once again pausing from adjusting garments on display, Urso raised one's half of his bushy uni brow. She didn't know why, but this irritated Harla. "URSO FOOTCRUSHER, YOU STRAIGHTEN THAT MONOBROW OF YOURS OUT! YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" The giant finally crumbled. "Keep your voice down Harla, I don't want anyone blabbing to hiccup." The garment maker hissed." He then retrieved the bundle from under the work bench, and unfolded it. "Urso." Harla gasped as the exotic skin's full striped glory came into her view. " That must have cost a fortune!" "An entire cart of sheepskin." "An entire cart? When you give a gift, you give a gift. Remind me to invite you if I ever get married." "Just don't tell anyone, and try not to let it slip." "I won't." "Swear by Thor's hammer." She rolled her eyes, took up a viking oath stance. "I swear by Thor's hammer, the holy Miloner, I won't tell a soul. If I do, may the gods bar me from Valhalla, and send me straight to the torture chambers of Hel herself." After she finished, she noticed Urso giving her a weird look. "What?" "Your a very morbid viking." "Shut up!" She gave him a punch in the ribs before leaving. "Some secret." Urso berated himself, and went to work on the cloak. He cut the skin as carefully as possible so it would be proportional with hiccup's lanky figure. Making sure each scrap piece was useful. After all, part of these were were going into the dress for Astrid. Once this was done, he laid it out, and laid a sheet of wool he had traded an old woman for. He then topped the pile with the bolt of green silk he'd received that morning. Once he made sure all the edges were even, he began stitching the layer together. Making sure not to stitch all the way through the skin. This task took about six hours of painfully careful stitching, but was completed. It was a hard job, but the cloak was nearly complete. Stashing it under a canvas cover, Urso took one of the bars of silver over to Gobber's forge, and paid the grizzled old blacksmith a few silver coins to forge it into two oval disks about four inches by six. Returning to his shop, the young man clamped them to the work bench, and began his engraving. When he had finished, each had a decorative edge,and bore inlay slots forming the face of a nightfury, with decorations in the background. He then began carving the inlays for the nightfuries. Checking the position of the moon, he realized it was almost midnight. So he stashed his project, locked up, and moved to his bed in the cottage on the side of his stall.